Life behind a photograph

Chapter 21 | Part I

Ash's pov

When I wake up I'm on my bed in my room. I can't remember how I got here nor anything that happened in between. The last thing being getting hammered with Tiffany.

I sit up and rub at my eyes. I'm supposed to feel like shit right now based on how much I drank yesterday but I feel refreshed honestly.

I swing my legs to the side and almost knock over Abigail. Whom I didn't notice sitting there. On a chair, her elbows propped on her knees and her face rested on her palms. Her eyes closed soundly, soft breaths sounding from her. But the thing that confuses me is that her eyes are puffed and her cheeks are tear stained.

"Hey..." I whisper and her eyelids immediately flutter open. She looks at me and sighs loudly. As I predicted, her eyes are red. Did she cry? If so, why?

"Do you feel better now?" 

"Yes. Why? Was something wrong with me?" I question.

"Do you not remember what happened?" her eyes are wide.

"No. I never do, whenever I wake up somewhere after being drunk I don't remember anything that happens after I stop drinking."

"Wow." she scoffs.

"Did something happen?" The last thing I remember is Tiffany making me go to a bar with her and me shutting her down after she started saying some shit that Abigail wouldn't be happy to hear.

After I explained to Tiffany in the washroom that me and Abigail were seeing each other, she took it pretty well. More than most times she would when I show even a little interest on someone. Tiffany would always go out of her to make sure I don't see anybody and do or say something to ruin it for me. I didn't care back then since I wasn't interest in seeing anyone in the first place. But now that I have Abigail I don't plan on taking any shit from her.

As much I shouldn't, I care for Abigail and this past week I have done so much better mentally than I have in my whole career. I actually compromised with the people I worked with just so we could get our work done and I could come back home early. And she would always wait for me, dinner ready. But I didn't let my original idea of distancing myself from her go to vain. I stayed as far away from her as possible. But the idea of even being in the same house as her made me a feel a lot better.

Anyways, the last I remember is Tiffany challenging me to what seemed like ten rounds of shots.

"Nothing important anyway." Abigail shrugs casually but avoids my gaze.

She stands up and puts the chair away, walking to the closet.

I'm changed out of my original clothes and I should thank Abigail for that. If I was sober enough to change my clothes I would surely remember that.

I get my phone from the bedside table and turn it on to a whopping thirty missed calls from Abigail last night and today morning. The time reads five pm.

"What time did I get home?" I ask knowing that she can hear me from the closet but she doesn't answer or she doesn't hear me.

I make a few calls to make sure that my earlier plans were still on motion and put on a t shirt that was on the bed and stand up.

I feel clean enough but nonetheless I go to the washroom to wash my face and by the time I get back Abigail is out of the closet.

A recreation of a sight I feared the most. 

Her hair is tied back and she struggles to carry her large suitcase from the closet to the door through the fluffy carpet on the floor.

The face towel drops  from my hand and I run to her, holding the handle of the suitcase over her hand so that she can't move it any further.