(Present)
TIFFANY WEST
Blackness. Inky and stagnant. It dripped into my subconscious.
It was often an escape from reality, a comfort in the madness. But this time they whispered to me, telling me not to wake up now, not to wake up ever.
Unfortunately, a pulsing ache in my head wakes me up. Feeling like roadkill, I let out a groan as a wake of nausea hit.
“Dear God,” I groaned.
Throwing the covers, I almost fell out of bed. Even my steps felt loud as I stumbled to the bathroom.
Fuck. How much did I drink last night?
The ache in my head stopped every attempt to remember how last night ended, all I could remember was Elena and I kept downing shots of alcohol at The Vincenzo wedding. We'd attended here in Las Vegas with her husband, Dimitri. Apparently, Dimitri Castello and Mr Vincenzo
