I wake up with a splitting headache. My whole body feels heavy and I feel violently ill.

I glance around the room. The blonde girl is slumped on the ground next to me, mascara around her eyes, fast asleep. It takes me a moment to realise it's a living room and I'm curled up on a couch.

The ceilings are high and there's a fireplace. It's so much more fancy than what I'm used to. I glance down at myself. My tights are ripped, the laces on my boots undone and fraying, as if I spent the evening trodding on them. My dress has ridden up around my waist, and I pull it down quickly before anyone catches me exposed. In a house as nice as this one, I'm already out of place enough. I don't need to be seen with everything on display.

I sit up slowly and make some effort to comb my fingers through my hair. It's naturally curly, however, and I can tell it's tangled.

What do I do? Surely this girl doesn't own this house- she's my age. Do I wait for her parents to find us? Maybe I could pretend to sleep and let her deal with it?

I'm about to lie back down, when someone enters the room.

He's not tall, but he stands in a way that makes him seem so. I notice, immediately, one half of his body seems to be completely disfigured. There's a golden retriever at his feet.

He spots me and he looks on in surprise. Then his eyes drop to the blonde girl. I can't even remember her name.

"Grace..." he sighs. "Hi, are you one of her friends?"

I give a quick, nervous nod. "I- yes." I manage to say.

He looks me up and down. "I don't recognise you but my eyes aren't great this time of morning. Do I know you?"

"No, you don't. My name is Ophelia."

The man nods. "Where are you from?"

"Greece. I moved here not long ago."

He gives a derisive laugh. "You're from Greece and you came to Liverpool of all places? Jesus Christ."

I sink into the couch. I don't know who this person is, but I don't appreciate being interrogated when I've just woken up with a hangover.

"That's a... a nice dog." I say finally. He looks down.

"Yeah. She's a service dog, so..."

"Right." I nod. I glance at Grace, willing her to wake up and step in. He's just stood there, staring down at me.

"What's wrong?" he says. "You scared of me?"

"No! Of course not, sir, I'm not."

He snorts. "Sir? That's new. Usually I get 'monster' or something. Granted, that's usually by little kids."

Grace stirs, moans, and opens her eyes. "Fucking bellend..." she mutters.

"Ah, she's awake." the man says.

"Christ on a bike, Conley, you scared the shit out of me." She says. She looks behind her. "Oh, fuck, you've not been harassing the piano girl, have you?"

"The piano girl? How long have you two known each other?"

Grace looks at me and shakes her head. "Go get us some aspirin and water?"

"You're seriously making your disabled brother do something for you? You know my right arm is poorly."

"And so are we. Go on, Conley, I'll give you a fiver."

"Fine." he says, and heads to the kitchen.

"Sorry about him." Grace says. "I didn't think i'd be up this late..."

"No, it's okay. He seems... nice."

She smiles slightly, running her fingers through her long, blonde hair. I notice despite the night's turmoil, if manages to remain silky and straight.

"You don't have to lie. I know he's a dick. But he's a good person, really." she drums her fingers on her leg.

Conley returns to the living room, carrying two bottles of water in one arm. Grace takes one from him, and he hands me the other.

"Couldn't find the aspirin. You know my eye's bad."

"Yeah, it's fine, it's whatevs." she yawns. "Ta, Con."

He shrugs. "No problem, G."

He shuffles out of the room, the dog guiding him.

hi i remembered this exists