A Rock and a Hard Place

Before the Levee Breaks

tw: intoxication, violence

I won't be long, but before you read this chapter I'd like you to know something.

This is my fourth attempt at writing this chapter. It's heavy, and I struggled to convey the scenes as best as my ability would allow. There's complexity in the situation and the characters, and I had no interest writing a half-assed abuse scene for the sake of "plot" like some of the mislead writers on here do. My purpose in this chapter was to help establish a dynamic that I hope I'm writing well enough for you to pick up on. That being said, there's only one other chapter that I will be writing that will need to include a trigger warning, and that won't be for a few more chapters. What I want to assure you of now is that I've written this as best I could  so you might forgive a scene with trigger warnings, but also that it won't be a constant occurrence.

If you are even reading this, honestly, thanks. I'm trying my hardest just to finish this story. I don't need to tell anyone here that it's been a struggle as of late. I hope this finds you well and that everyone is doing alright.

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"Woah, Ronnie, hang on," Belinda cooed, helping me as I started falling. I crashed against the door and sent it into the wall, causing a loud thud! to echo through the house. I giggled, remembering the cars missing from the driveway. For once, I didn't have to worry about the noise I made as I stumbled in drunk. I shifted my weight toward Belinda, nearly falling into her too, but she held me up as she slowly stepped towards my bed. "Let's go, Coca Cola," she sighed.

I collapsed into it, the springs groaning under the sudden weight. My head spun as I turned my head out of the pillow to breathe. Most of me had made it, and as Belinda sat near the end she pulled my feet up so my body laid straight and wholly on the bed. Her tired form didn't leave the end of the bed. I reluctantly started turning over. My head was still spinning and I knew my movements were uncoordinated, but I just wanted to look at her.

Belinda's face was illuminated by her cell phone as she texted someone. Her hair, which she'd taken out of the braids she'd had all year, was pulled up tight into a bun. She'd spent time slicking down flyaways and smoothing her baby hairs into cute waves framing her face, and I remembered just watching her in the mirror as she had. Her lip gloss shined in the light, and so did the golden flecks of her eyes. Her long lashes gave her bedroom eyes. She kept texting, the way she always did. I watched her until my vision felt blurry again. Shutting my eyes, I threw open my arms which made me feel more drunk than I had a moment ago. "C'mere, pretty girl," I called.

After a few more seconds of texting, she sat up to put her phone on the nightstand. She turned on the lamp there too, finally illuminating the room, before slipping into bed. She laid on her side looking at me, so I turned to my side to back.

"Hm, pretty," I murmured, smiling, leaning in for a kiss. The edges of my vision were still wavy, but I could focus on her without getting nauseous now.

Finally smiling, Belinda granted me a few soft kisses. Then her gaze started to wander behind me, slowly scanning her surroundings. I realized then that this was the first time she'd ever been in my room, let alone the inside of my house. Instantly, my stomach tightened and my first crystal-clear thought in hours came to me; she's going to see how bad I had it.

Thinking quickly and without much logic, I leaned forward to kiss her again. She sort of gasped in shock and I accidentally bumped my forehead against hers. She laughed as she pulled away and rubbed her head. "What was that?" she asked.

"Just, look at me." I tried feigning casualty, but it sounded like begging in my ears.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I am looking at you," she said. "I've just never been in here before."