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She’s mumbling to herself, more unaware of her surroundings than I’ve ever seen before. She needs to be taught a lesson, but honestly, she’s past the point of heeding any sort of warning as drunk as she is. Any energy on that front would be a waste tonight.
It doesn’t stop me from moving in front of her and blocking her path.
“Move, motherfucker,” she grumbles as she’s forced to a stop. She reaches her arm out in an effort to shove me away, but she’s got no real strength behind it.
Her affect remains flat when she looks up at me. Even when it dawns on her who I am, she can’t seem to muster any emotion other than irritation. She isn’t happy to see me, and that makes my heart clench.
“Where the fuck have you been?” she growls, her ineffective fists swatting at my chest.
The I miss you is gone, and I find myself aching to hear it a third time.
Maybe this is my punishment for staying away for so long and trying to forget about her.
When she tries to step around me, I clamp her chin in between my fingers and get in her face.
“You need to start acting your age instead of like a fucking toddler whose toy got taken away.”
“I’m not—”
Her face screws up, and I only have a second to step away before she gets sick. I only grab a hold of her to keep her from face-planting on the sidewalk because I feel obligated to get her home. I’d prefer to do that without her being covered in puke.
I look away, my nose scrunching up at the scent of all the alcohol making a reappearance. It’s absolutely disgusting. I’d rather deal with blood than vomit any damn day of the week.
I’m annoyed beyond fucking words by the time she’s done heaving. I spend probably a little too much time trying to convince myself that dragging her back to my motel room and showing her exactly what happens to careless women would be a terrible idea.
This has to be the last time I come here. I’m not responsible for her choices any more than she’s responsible for mine. If anything, I think I’m just making it worse for her. I’m not her fucking savior and we owe each other nothing, but she still seems to hold some sort of expectations where I’m concerned.
“Enough,” I spit as I grab her arm again and start pulling her toward her dorm building.
I may be walking away for the final time tonight, but I’ll be damned if I leave her standing in the middle of nowhere.
“Let go of me,” she growls, her attempt to jerk away from me ineffectual.
She fights me all the way there, growling and snarling like a deranged animal. People look at us as they walk past but even as aggressive as it looks, and as unhappy as she is to have me pulling her along, no one steps in.
That’s what’s wrong with the entire fucking world these days. People are so worried about offending the wrong person, they just gape and stare rather than offer a helping hand. One guy literally walks past holding his phone out in front of him, recording a goddamned video for social media with us in the background.
“Your generation sucks,” I mutter, refusing to believe that I’m also a part of any of this shit.
I wasn’t raised this way. Yeah, I’ve done my fair share of turning a blind eye, but the way these college kids act is beyond fucking words.
“You suck,” she hisses, her feet getting tangled together somehow. I manage to stop her once again before she hits the ground.
My sigh is more of an irritated rush of breath than anything else. I pull her closer to her dorm, reminding myself that getting pissed is ignorant because all emotions are wasted. The fact that she even has that level of power over me pisses me off and that just makes this entire night one giant fucking circle of mistakes… which I hate.
“I’m tired,” she complains, her steps growing shorter, her eyelids heavier.
“Jesus, fuck,” I grumble, catching her under her arms before she can pass out.
The knowledge that she never would’ve made it on her own makes me raving mad.
There’s no way that she only acts this way when I’m in town. This has to be routine for her at this point. How many times has she acted irresponsible that every time I come to town she’s putting herself in danger?
I lift her, slinging her over my fucking shoulder and muttering a warning about puking down my back as if she isn’t fucking passed out and dead weight. From watching her enter this building more than once, I type in the passcode, tugging the heavy door open when the lock deactivates.
“Sir,” the girl at the desk snaps at me when I go to walk past.
