“Daphni!” I shout as my fist connects with the door. I’ve been trying to find her for over an hour now, and after my fifth knock, I slip the key card into the door and let myself in.

“Daphni!” I call out into the empty hotel suite. I look around, but all I see are empty bottles of Patron and piles of discarded clothes. There’s no sign of a neon-haired Daphni, and I’m beginning to get nervous. She was supposed to meet Melissa downtown an hour ago, and though she had a habit of being fashionably late, she never completely blew off a meeting.

A sound coming from the bathroom grabs my attention and I make my way over. Slowly opening the door with my foot, I see Daphni in the corner of the large, walk-in shower chugging from a bottle of Tequila.

She looks like shit. Her hair is plastered to her face and her mascara is halfway down her cheeks. She’s wearing an old T-shirt, some underwear, and one sock. She hasn’t even noticed me yet, and I can tell she’s completely blitzed.

“Daphni,” I say louder, so she can hear me.

She looks up at me when she hears her name and slowly brings the bottle down. Her eyes are wide, her pupils completely dilated. I make a quick scan of the room, but don’t see any pill bottles. Still, I know that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any floating in her bloodstream right now.

I slowly walk toward her and crouch down to sit beside her. Gesturing to the mess around her, I look at her. “Daphni, what’s going on?”

She doesn’t say anything, but offers me a pathetic shrug of her frail shoulders. I gently take the bottle out of her hands and place it to the side.

“You can’t keep living like this, love.”

“It’s the only way I know how,” is her sad reply.

I nod in understanding. I had seen many of my own friends succumb to the temptation of drinking their phantoms away. It was an easy choice compared to facing them down.

I loop my arms around Daphni and pick her up. I set her on the toilet and turn the shower on, making sure it’s not too hot.

“Arms up,” I order, and she obediently raises both her arms. I take off her shirt and guide her back to a standing position in front of the shower.

“Take off your knickers and then go on in. Soap up—I want you in there for at least ten minutes.”

As she steps inside, I drop down onto the covered toilet. “Are you going to tell me what lead you to this latest binge, Daphni?”

The shower is open, with no curtain shielding us, so I know she can hear me.

“You don’t strike me as the type who wants to hear a rich girl’s sob stories,” she replies after a long moment.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. But you’ve got to stop with this drinking, Daphni. Don’t think I don’t notice what’s in all your water bottles. You’re crossing into dangerous territory here.”

“I’m just going through some stuff right now, Liam. I don’t expect you to understand. The drinking helps.”

“Aye, trust me when I say that I know it helps. But it only helps in the short term. That’s your mistake,” I reply.

“Well, it’s all I have.”

“No, no it’s not. And when you get out of that shower, I’ll show you that it’s not.”

_________

“You cannot be serious!” Daphni moans as I finish wrapping her hands in the black tape.

“Aye, yes I am, girlie.”

“My head is fucking killing me,” she whines.

“That’s why I gave you the Advil. Now shut your mouth and watch me,” I order. I bounce on my feet, shifting my weight from my left foot to my right. Keeping my hands up by my face, I punch out a jab and hit the black punching bag straight in the center. As my knuckles hit the hard bag, I can feel the tension sift out my body. I look over to Daphni who, thanks to her shower, looks a little more like a human.

“Your turn,” I tell her, gesturing to the bag.

She rolls her eyes but takes a deep breath. She mimics my bouncing and strikes the bag with her right hand. It barely moves and she pulls her hand back, swearing. Before she can walk away, I grab her by her shoulders and pierce her emerald eyes with mine, forcing her to look at me. “Look at that bag, Daphni. Look at that bag as the fucking traitor that it is. That bag hurt you, it destroyed you, it took advantage of you. That bag wants to defeat you. Don’t let that fucking bag defeat you, Daphni. You defeat it.”

She rips her eyes away from mine and faces the bag. Her thin body straightens and she brings her hands up to guard her face. As she bounces on the balls of her feet, she matches her breathing to her steps. After a few seconds, she steps in and her hand connects with the bag. This time, the bag sways from the contact. The swaying seems to encourage her, and she steps in with another jab, then another. Suddenly she’s throwing her whole body into the punch, screaming with every hit.

I grab her, pulling her away from the bag. She’s out of breath and her cheeks are flushed cherry red.

“You all right, there?” I ask.

She nods, catching her breath. “I hate that fucking bag,” she spits out, her voice shaking with fury.

Taken aback by the anger radiating off her small frame, I drape a protective arm around her. “Let me teach you some more moves.”