#rosehilda

Rosethorn clutched the trashcan to her chest as she sat in bed, and tried to open her eyes. Squinting meant minimal pain, so she slowly looked around the room, taking in the levels of mess. The mini fridge was left open, there were clothes everywhere, none that she had worn last night. There was a heel in the lampshade, something unrecognizable on the ceiling fan, and a person in the bed with her.

She groaned, putting the trashcan back on the ground before rubbing her face, willing the hangover to go away while she tried to remember the night before.

Bits a pieces were here and there. The casino, then the nightclub, then the… strip club? That couldn’t be. But she then remember GRimhilda shoving ones into someones underwear. She quickly looked down, suddenly feeling something. A few dollars and some poor man’s g string were pulled out of her bra, and she was too tired to be surprised. Instead she groaned louder, disgust weighing heavy in her heart before she weakly tossed the buried treasure to the side.

She felt the covers shift. Rosethorn clutched her sheets, just now processing there was someone in her bed. With wide eyes and a thundering heart, she slowly peeled the covers off them. She breathed a sigh of relief as she noticed a well manicured hand sticking out of the covers, and let Grimhilda keep sleeping. Why was she here? Rosethorn rubbed her temples trying to figure out what had happened. Nothing, only a big patchwork of memories and nothing about coming home.

Rosethorn shakily stood up, and slowly made her way to the bathroom. The hotel’s cleaning polished bathroom seemed to be the only place untouched. She tiredly looked at herself in the mirror. Smudged makeup, a ratnest of hair, body glittered she hadn’t put on before she went out. She slowly opened the lid of the toilet and the rest of the night came out.

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Grimhilda sat up with a start. She rubbed her temples trying to remember what had happened. She was hungover, but she was used to the feeling enough for it to not be a surprise. You drink that much, you get hungover in the morning, it happens.

She moved her hands to her hair. Clips, a tiara, bobby pins, only the latter were hers. Her foggy mind tried to decipher the code on the tiara.

“jus… just- hmm- just married…” She murmured, trying to keep down her drinks. Great, stole something from a married couple, wouldn’t be the first time, or the last, but she felt a little bad. To fix her woes, she simply put the tiara back on, and sat quietly, staring off into space as she tried to remember how she got here.

She heard retching from the bathroom, and her stomach churned.

Where was Rosethorn? Her heart skipped a beat as the worst scenario set in. Had she come back to the hotel with her? Had she lost her friend in Vegas? That little girl that she brought out was probably dead! Or kidnapped! Grimhilda couldn’t believe she could misplace her friend like that, she was the one that wanted to go out anyway!

She stumbled to her feet, wobbling to the bathroom to ask whoever was in there if they knew where she was.

Her happiness to see her friend bent over the toilet was snubbed by the sound. She felt her stomach do a summersault, the martinis, shots, and god knows what trying to make a reappearance.

Grimhilda helped hold her friends hair back.

“I’m never- drinking again” The girl cried

“You were crazy last night” GRimhilda smiled before long burp escaped and she covered her mouth.

“I don’t know what happened…” Rosethorn sat back on her feet, still kneeling in front of the toilet.

“Why don’t you go lay down… i think there’s some gatorade or pedialyte in the fridge.” Grimhilda said, reaching for the bottle of advil on the counter before dumping its contents into her hand. Pills went falling to the floor, and she clumsily handed Rosethorn a handful. The girl was too out of it to question.

Grimhilda helped her friend to bed, and found the pedialyte she had bought before they went to Las Vegas because she knew they would need it. Rosethorn dumped the advil on her bedside table before picking out the amount she was supposed to take.

“You drink up… I’m going to take a shower.” Grimhilda said, taking one of the bottles of baby water into the bathroom with her.

She clumsily got into the shower, bottle in hand, and began to clean herself up, feeling a little bad that she had to wash off all the glitter.

Rosethorn sat in bed, memories coming back to her. She clutched the bottle, only to notice a glint on her finger. She hadn’t had a ring there before.

She examined it closesly. A gold band on her left hand, it was obviously fake, but it did bring back something. A pamphlet tapped to a wall in the strip club, a chapel, a man in a terrible elvis costume. 

She heard the shower turn off, and Grimhilda strut out in her big fluffy robe, looking better than ever.

“You look… good.” Rosethorn mumbled.

“I only threw up in the shower once.” She replied cheerily, sitting down on the bed.

“Grim… what happened last night? What is this?” She asked, holding up her hand. “It looks like a wedding ring.”

“Well, you did get married.” Grimhilda said as if it was obvious.

A long, low wail of a groan came out of her friend and she frantically held her hair, almost like she was going to rip it out.

“Hey! Relax, it’s ok.” Grimhilda smiled, patting her on the arm.

“No it’s not! i go out for drinks and end up married to a stranger in an elvis costume!”

“No, Elvis was the minister, and don’t worry, you got married to me!” Grimhilda laughed, holding out her hand.

“What?! Why did you let that happen?”

“What? You always said how you wanted to get married, besides, it was perfect to make you forget about stupid boys” Grimhilda saw her friend wince at the last part.

“This isn’t a joke-”

“It’s not real!” Grimhilda couldn’t believe how ridiculous her friend was being, and a little insulted Rosethorn wasn’t happy, she was a catch!

“… really?” Rosethorn asked, pushing her brain to remember.

“… well i’m guessing it’s not real! i would never really get married by the king…”