No matter how much Ray wanted it to, the pillow he held over his face didn't put him out of his misery. It was still damp from his drool, a sticky reminder of the state he was in when he'd finally climbed into bed the night before. Ray wasn't a big drinker and he hadn't set out to get drunk but when he had seen Del, he'd had one, then another, to steel himself before approaching. Somewhere along the line though, two had become seven and the rest was history.

As if his pounding head wasn't bad enough, Ray had to suffer with the clearest memory of his behavior at the party. Wasn't getting drunk off his ass supposed to come with the promise of blissful ignorance the next morning?

"Kill me now," he groaned, squashing the pillow against his face one last time before chucking it out of the bed in frustration. No amount of pain relief was going to let him open his eyes without weeping in agony.