My eyes are attacked by fluorescent lighting and bright white at every wall. I feel like I've been bashed over the head a few times with an iron bar.
"Connor, calm down. She had three glasses. She wasn't drunk"
Where the hell am I? I close my eyes again and reach up to brush away a lock of hair that's tickling my cheek. The soft contact of my hand on my head stabs at my brain. "Stacy?" His voice is quiet and his hand clamped around mine. "Stacy, open your eyes"
I try my best, but it is too bloody painful. s**t! What is wrong with me? Is this the worse hangover ever? I don't remember drinking that much.
"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on!" he roars.
"You do not have the right to ask what's going on!" I hear my mother roar back.
I snap my eyes open again and gaze around my
