Married At Nineteen

Chapter Forty-seven

This chapter is dedicated to dynma662 for the support she renders that motivates me to write. Thanks babe.

If one said that a nut was too difficult to crack, he was not being specific, if you used the right equipment, it would surely give way though of course you would still struggle.

Pleading meekly with Blake did not help but just being as fierce did the magic. All the time, he would threaten me to shut up but I didn't, I kept on pushing.

He had no idea of the stress Chris was going through to find his mother. Funny enough, he always came back. But not a word of apology would ever slip from his mouth. I cared less about that.

All I wanted was for him to forgive and forget. Move on. I want him to be happy again, with or without his once best friend. He was too stiff and if he didn't fix the root of the problem, the surface would keep on growing out of control.

A miracle happened tonight when I was at home. It was unexpected but needed even with the last drop of oil.

My door was on the verge of breaking from its hinges. Since it wasn't up-to nine o'clock, I wasn't so frightened.

"Eddy open up." I heard Blake slur from outside.

I unlocked the door immediately, pulling it open to let him in.

He strode forcefully in, running his hands through his hair down on his face. I closed the door, confused at his cold behavior. Then a smell hit my nose. The entire room reeked of it.

"Have you been drinking?" I asked in utter shock. He never drank. I never saw him drink.

He growled, kicking the sofa but the stubborn furniture made little movement. "You never give up!" He snarled, punching the wall nearest to him in infuriating anger.

I jolted a bit in my position but he didn't scare me. The pain that shot through him was proved as he raised his injured arm in the air, hissing silently.

I couldn't tell whether he was drunk or sober but I would bet on the latter.

"You've f**ked me up." He said, his voice changing instantly as he slid down the wall with his injured hand held in the other.

His lips quivered as I drew closer and knelt down beside him. He shut his eyes so tightly I feared it would pull in.

Inhaling a powerful surge of air, he leaned his head against the wall, expelling the carbon from his nostrils. His eyes peeled open, staring into space.

"You messed me up, big time." He tittered, combing through his rough hair.

"Tell me how I have." I finally spoke, sitting on the back of my legs.

"Are you real?" He asked, turning to my direction with his fiery red eyes on me.

"In what way?" I asked, not exactly understanding him. He still had alcohol in his system and was capable of saying bollocks.

"I swear if I find out you're being selfish, you're dead." He groaned, the words sounding throaty but scaring me to an extent.

"You know you are not being straight to the point. I'm left in a muddle here."

"You're smart, pick it up." He slurred again, turning his head to the side with his palm on his forehead.

"With you, one could be wrong." I said, frustrated a bit with his yet again suspense.

He didn't answer me and for seconds he was quiet, his face still the other way.

"Tell me the problem." I said, reaching for his face but he slapped my hand away.