InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ 99 Bottles ❯ For Comfort ( Chapter 1 )

99 Bottles

The first one had been for comfort. That's the one I remember very clearly. When I think back to it, it was almost as if I was watching myself start the descent into insanity. I also remember what it was that I made. It was a Cosmopolitan. One of the first drinks I ever learned to mix. It was in a glass that I had gotten for a Christmas present the year before. Yeah, it had come in handy, best gift I ever got.

Numbers two through eight were for my sanity. I drank those to get rid of every ounce that was left of it. I thought it would be a harder task. But in the end it only took seven bottles of sake to do away with it. Apparently I had lost most of it before I started this task. It was a lovely little thought that made me continue to drink.

When I started on my ninth drink the world spun around twice. I remember this because I saw my China cabinet go around me in a hazy circle that many times. It really didn't bother me that much. But bottles numbers nine through twenty-two were for remembrance. So when I woke up I wouldn't remember anything. I don't even think that I wanted to remember my name. And at the rate I was going, I wouldn't.

After the twenty-third bottle, a Smirnoff I think, I fainted. I don't really know or care how long I was out. I didn't dream, thank some unknown god. I really don't think that I could have survived if I had dreamed. It would have brought me right back into the reality I was so desperately trying to escape. And then the first twenty-two bottles would have been in vain. And that would have meant that I would have to start all over.

It was somewhere in-between my twenty-fourth and thirtieth bottle that I realized that reality is an illusion created by lack of alcohol. This world which I was slowly sinking into was a lot better than reality. My systems lied to me and my brain swam away from all my problems, which were every where but up. I slowly fell in love with this counterfeit world and I couldn't fall back out.

Between the thirty-first and thirty-ninth bottle I puked twice. My insides weren't used these foreign liquids that I was continuously forcing upon them. But that didn't stop me. After my intestines were dumped into my toilet and some on the floor, I went back and started again. My fortieth bottle I know for a fact was a Bud light. I know this because I wondered into my kitchen after I threw up, you know, to gather myself together, only to find a twelve pack of Bud light staring at me.

Forty to fifty-two, it shouldn't take a rocket scientist to know that was the twelve pack. Funny thing is I can't even remember how it tasted. I remember thinking about taking a drive around number forty-five. The only thing that stopped me from wrapping my car around a tree was the silly thought that one shouldn't drink and drive because one might spill one's beer. And that in itself was quite pitiful.

The hilarious thing about bottle fifty-three was that I actually started believing that I shouldn't listen to myself. I mean I was drunk after all, right? See, Miller light would do that to you. I made a decision to go for that drive. But somewhere on my way to my car I passed out. I actually remember what time I woke up that time. It was 4:45 in the morning. And what was it that woke me up? The biggest hangover of the century, that's what. But the best cure for a hangover in more alcohol. I wonder, what idiot said that first?

Shots, yeah that was what I started at five o'clock in the morning. I recall taking out fourteen glasses and lining them up on my bedroom floor. Then I filled each little glass to the brim. Within ten seconds all of the little glasses had become empty. The buzz was so loud now that I couldn't feel the hangover. Weird way to put it but it was the only way I could explain that feeling. So after my sixty-seventh glass I tossed up my insides again. I really started to hate my body for rejecting the little help I could give it.

Sixty-eight to seventy-two, my house had swallowed up almost all of my alcohol. Okay, I guess I really can't blame my house but most of my stashes were raided. Even my mini bar was empty. It stared at me mockingly as if saying, `Ha-ha-ha, let's see you escape your life now…' I kicked it for saying that and I think I sprung my ankle right then. So I sat on my bed craving for something that probably didn't exist in my house. I couldn't walk at all because of my ankle. But then again that zigzagging I had been doing didn't count as shit anyway.

Lucky me, as I wondered/crawled from the bathroom after a fourth encounter with my guts, I found a stash under my bed that I had completely forgotten about. It is very easy to forget such things when one has chugged more beer/alcohol in less than twenty-four hours than many people see in an average year. Seventy-three up to eighty- two had been strictly Bloody Maries and Margaritas. Now at this point, you're probably wondering how in the hell I knew what number I was on. There's a small chalk board in my room, every single drink I took I forced myself up to it and marked it off.

When I found eighty-three to ninety-three under the kitchen sink my ankle had finally began to swell, gruesome sight too. I also realized that I was probably going to end up dead. At first I thought this to be quite amusing but in the end I really didn't give a damn, I just needed the buzz to continue. So down my throat the not so innocent liquor went. And after the last drip reached my lips, I passed out again the glass falling from my hand.

I woke up to find that I had cut my hand on the glass that had fallen and shattered. But once again, I didn't care at all. I just needed to get somewhere to empty my bowels again. The kitchen trashcan did just fine this time. I dragged myself into my room again to find another forgotten stash in my closet. Ninety-four and ninety-five, by now my hands were shaking uncontrollably. This had started in the late forties, early fifties but it was really bad now.

After that, the last four went by fast. Ninety-six was the last of a bottle of gin which I had mistaken for water all throughout this escapade. Hell no H2O was my new saying for the evening. Ninety-seven was coke-and-rum. I was seriously on a low supply of booze to result to such a drink but who cares, alcohol is alcohol and caffeine is caffeine. Ninety-eight was a small bottle of stuff I was given for some holiday. Now that I think about it, it probably was moonshine from some southern state in America. Finally, ninety-nine was a Sam Adams; I only remember that because I was so delusional that I started laughing at it for no reason. I think it was because the guy on the bottle started to tell me jokes or something of the sort. I passed out again after this last drink and fell into a coma.

That's how I ended up here. Sitting in this stupid hospital, being stared at by people I swear I have never seen in my life, as they walked in and out of the room. And out of all the nameless faces, I saw one that brought me some type of comfort. It was a soft, sad face with golden eyes. So I turned to it and asked the first question, “Do I know you?” He nodded slightly and then looked away from me. I thought I saw tears as he turned around and a curtain of silver hair followed him. “I'm sorry but what is your name?”

“Inu Yasha…”

“That's a funny name. Do you know my name?” I asked. He nodded again. “What is it then?”

“Kagome…”

Okay so how was it… I was in the mood to write about someone being drunk. To tell you the truth, I was really trying to figure out if this was going to be an Inu Yasha fanfic.

I was also thinking about making it a Cowboy Bebop with Faye as the narrator, post series, after Spike dies. But I decided against it at the last moment, might regret it later. I decided against shounen-ai because to me, it just sounded more like girl getting drunk, I don't know why though. I almost made it a Full Metal Alchemist, Edward getting drunk, post series, trying to forget about Al and blah. But I knocked that idea out too.

So this is more Kagome getting drunk because Inu Yasha told her he couldn't be with her post series. And Inu Yasha comes back to find Kagome in a coma and blah because he was wrong. I really don't care; this will probably be a one-shot. I only wrote it because my birthday is coming up and I'm getting slightly depressed. See my birthday means school and school means a load of shit.

Anyway if I get enough reviews I might drag this out and make it longer. You know add a deep plot and some drama a few chapters and bam! I've got myself a real story! But this will not be touched again until after August 2nd because it just won't. I don't have a real reason.

Well, okay maybe I do, I have to finish the first chapter to Blood Red Moon so I can post it up on my b-day. And then I'm working on this story called A Goddess's Forbidden Blood, and then Not my Fault needs to be tweaked a bit and posted and not to mention A.T.T.I.C. I've just got a lot of stories I want updated on my b-day, so this won't be touched until the day after. Anyway I'm out, please Read and Review… Star…