Sinking

had to write this for english. the teacher gave us each a pic of a shoe and we had to come up with what the owner was like, then we had to write a short story about a day in their life. this is mine.

The music pulsed in time with the swaying bodies of the nightclub crowd. Millie pushed through the throng with her friends, heading for the bar. Pushing a couple of drunks off the stools and back into the mass of people, they sat down, laughing.

‘Hey you! Get us three beers!’ Millie yelled at the bartender. Then to her friends, ‘Did you see the way he looked at me? Like he wanted to throw me out! I just asked him to do his job!’

‘I know, people like him are so rude these days, aren’t they, Patty?’ asked Sophia, fanning herself with her hand.

The bartender came back with their drinks. Ignoring him completely, Patricia grabbed her beer and gulped down a few mouthfuls before replying, ‘Who cares? He’s just a bartender.’

The three of them snickered. Millie reached for her purse which she had bought that day on sale – only $700! She pulled out a twenty and practically threw it at the bartender. ‘That should cover it, and too bad if it doesn’t, it’s all I’ve got.’

There was a moment of silence while they finished their drinks, if people yelling and music throbbing could be called silence.

‘Come on, let’s go back and dance! I need to wear these shoes in! I only got them yesterday,’ Millie called out. They finished their last few drops of beer and made their way back to the dance floor.

After a few minutes, she felt a beer being pressed into her hand. Looking around, she saw a group of teenage boys staring at her, Sophia and Patty, who also had a bottle of beer in their hand. Shrugging, they took a sip of the ice cold beer and kept on dancing.

Within half an hour, the beers were finished, the bottles discarded onto the floor. Millie was feeling dizzy, her head was pounding. She shoved her way through the crush of people, and headed to the front door. Out on the street, her chauffeur, Charles, was waiting for her.

‘Miss Millie! Are you alright? You look dreadfully sick!’ he exclaimed. Ushering her to the Rolls Royce, he took off his coat and put it around her shoulders. He opened the door and shut it behind her. After he’d slid into the driver’s seat and was heading towards home, he began to worry even more. He’d seen Miss Millie drunk before, of course, it happened at least once a week. This seemed worse though. She was slumped in the backseat, staring vacantly into space. Her face was pale, her skin cold and clammy.

‘Miss Millie? What did you have to drink in there? Was it all from the bar?’

She didn’t reply straight way. After a minute, she lifted her head with an effort and mumbled, ‘Teenagers…gave us beer…feel sick…’

Charles turned into the driveway of the mansion, and instantly ran inside. He returned with the maid, Annette. Together they led Millie out of the car and into her bedroom. Annette left for a moment, and came back with aspirin and a glass of water.

‘Here, Miss Millie, take these, they’ll get rid of that headache,’ she insisted.

Millie eventually swallowed the tablets and lay back down. Charles covered her up, and both the servants left her to sleep. They didn’t know what the beer had been spiked with, but Miss Millie had looked worse after a night of clubbing. They’d see what she was like in the morning, before beginning to worry.

Back in her room, Millie sank into deep unconsciousness.