My memory of the rest of the night was still hazy. Somehow, I made it back to my apartment. There was a vague recollection of catching a cab, but that was all.

When I got back to my place, I headed straight through to the bathroom. My dress and underwear were thrown to the bathroom floor, and I went straight into the shower. I was convinced that I was covered in Tony's blood. I could see it all over my hands and arms as the water ran clear down the drain.

After scrubbing myself in the shower for twenty minutes, I climbed out. I didn't bother drying myself, I just grabbed an old sweatshirt and pulled it over my wet head. Then I headed out towards the kitchen.

The other thing Desirée had told me to do was to have a strong drink. I didn't really have any strong drinks, so I decided to make a cup of tea instead. But when I got to the kitchen, I saw the bottle of champagne on the counter that Lucas had given me earlier that day.

I looked at the bottle for a moment and pondered how to open it. I remembered seeing my dad open a bottle before to celebrate his new job. From what I recalled, there was a kind of metal wire cage you had to take off, then you pulled out the cork.

It seemed simple enough. I took hold of the wire, and twisted it until it came away in my hand. Then I took hold of the top of the cork, and gave it a tug. At first it didn't move, then with a loud pop, the cork flew off.

The top of the bottle erupted like a volcano of bubbles. I didn't want all the champagne going all over the floor, so in a panic I put my mouth over the top of the bottle. But then, instead of going on the floor, my mouth was filled with bubbles. They seemed to expand rapidly in my throat, and came back up again until the champagne came spurting out my nose.

With a cough and splutter, I took the champagne bottle out of my mouth. A few more bubbles dribbled down the side, but the worst was over. I placed the bottle down on the kitchen counter, and looked for something to pour it into. I didn't have any champagne glasses, obviously, or wine glasses. Instead I grabbed a coffee cup, and poured the champagne.

The mess and chaos of trying to open the champagne bottle had one positive consequence. It had done a good job of distracting me from how sick I was feeling. The guilt of what I had done had been hitting me right in the stomach. After a few sips of champagne I remembered what I was feeling guilty about, and the sickness started to come back. I quickly gulped down the whole cup full, and poured myself another. Soon the alcohol started to do its job, and my memory faded away to black before I passed out on my couch.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of someone banging on my door. The thumping sound mirrored the pounding I felt in my head. When I opened my eyes, the sudden unexpected daylight stabbed me right in my retinas. Wincing in pain, I  rolled off the couch and tried to stand up. When I did, I felt instantly worse as I was hit with a wave of dizziness.

As I staggered over to the front door, I nearly tripped over the empty champagne bottle on the floor. My head was awful by the time I got to the door. It had started to spin when I moved too fast, and I felt like I was about to be sick. But before anything else, I had to do something to stop the loud banging on my door.

Peeking through the spy hole in the door, I saw it was Lucas outside. I opened the door to tell him to shut up with the damn banging.

"Hey," I said with a scowl, but he interrupted me before I could shout at him.

"Olivia, you're okay," he said, with a look of relief.

"What? Yeah...I...no, I'm going to be sick," I said, then threw my hand over my mouth and ran as fast as I could towards the bathroom.

Collapsing to my knees in front of the toilet, I lifted the lid, then vomited into the bowl. The acid burned my throat as it came up. After a minute, my stomach was empty and there was a terrible taste in my mouth. Lifting myself off the floor, I stumbled across to the sink to wash the remaining vomit from my mouth.

When I got back to the main room, I saw Lucas sitting on the couch. He was holding up the empty champagne bottle and looking at me with an impatient expression.

"Something happened to Tony," he said.

"I, umm, need a drink," I said.

Lucas just nodded at me, while I waddled off towards the kitchen. I tried to think of what I could say to him while I poured myself a glass of orange juice. The juice helped clear my mind slightly.

Lucas stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter. "Did anything happen after you left my house?" he asked.

I gulped down the last of the juice, then tried to take a deep breath to calm my nerves. "No," I said. "Tony dropped me off here, then he said something about going to get a bite to eat."

Lucas banged his fist down on the counter top and gave an anguished groan.

"What's wrong?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Tony didn't come back after he dropped you off," said Lucas. "I think the Colombians got him."

Columbians? That sounded familiar. Someone else had mentioned Columbians, but I couldn't remember who that was.

"What would they want with Tony?" I asked.

"There was a hit a while back," said Lucas. "Me and Tony took out one of their guys. Looks like they came after him to get some payback."

That was a relief. It sounded like they didn't suspect me at all. Maybe I didn't have to be so worried after all. Plus it sounded like my parents were not the only people that Tony and Lucas had murdered. So that meant they definitely deserved whatever happened to them.

"And then to top it off, some fucking whore tried to sell the Merc to one of our own chop shops," said Lucas, angrily. "Luckily our guys recognised it as my dad's car, and they managed to grab her."

Oh no, it sounded like Desirée was in trouble. The thought that she could get hurt because of me hit me like a stabbing pain in my chest.

"What happened to her?" I asked, as casually as I could manage.

"The guys roughed her over a little to get the truth," said Lucas, with a little sadistic gleam in his eye. "Turns out she found the car abandoned near the river, so she decided to steal it for some extra cash."

The thought of Desirée getting hurt turned my stomach. I almost needed to rush back to the bathroom. But at the same time, I felt a little relieved when I heard she had covered for me. If I ever saw her again, I was going to give her a really big thank you.

Lucas walked back to the couch and slumped down with a sigh. He looked kind of sad, and the sight of him made me feel like maybe I should go over and comfort him. I walked around to the couch and sat next to Lucas.

After what I had done with his father, I had thought Lucas wouldn't want to see me again. He had seemed so upset and angry the last time I saw him. But he didn't seem that angry with me any more.

"Hey, I'm sorry, about what happened with your father and me," I said. "I never meant to hurt you like that."

Lucas looked up at me and frowned. "I wasn't angry at you, I was angry at my dad," he said. "I just couldn't believe he would do something like that when me and you were in a relationship."

"Oh right," I said, feeling strangely relieved that he wasn't angry with me. "Yeah, he figured out we weren't really dating. That's why he made a move on me."

"But why would he think that?" Lucas asked.

"Well, umm, he knows that you are gay," I said.

Lucas jumped up off the couch with a look of fear. "What? You told him?" he said.

"No, I didn't tell him. He already knew," I said.

Lucas looked confused as he slowly sat back down on the couch. He sat for a moment and silently stared at the window.

"Maybe you need to go talk to your dad?" I said. "But he seemed okay about it."

Lucas looked kind of surprised at that. "Really? I always assumed he would hate me," he said.

"I'm sure your dad would love you whatever your sexuality is," I said. "He seemed like a very, umm, loving kind of guy."

"Hmmm," said Lucas, as he appeared to be considering what I had told him. "I guess I never really thought about him that way. It's the kind of thing my mom used to say about him."

"Oh yeah, where is your mom?" I asked. "She wasn't at the party."

"No," Lucas said, sounding distant and thoughtful. "She died about five years ago. She got cancer."

"Oh, I didn't realise. I'm sorry for your loss," I said, instantly regretting asking him about her.

"That's okay," he said. "But I should get going. I need to search for Tony, I just wanted to check if you were okay first."

"Well, good luck," I said. "I hope you find him soon."

Lying like that made me feel uncomfortable, but I knew that I had to keep doing it. I also really needed to take an aspirin, as my head was still pounding.

Lucas stood up, then he leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "We'll talk again soon," he said as he left.

Once Lucas had gone, I flopped over sideways on the couch and buried my face into a cushion with a groan. I was never going to drink alcohol ever again.