Drowning

IV. Falling

He looks shocked. Did he not see me practically run over here?

"What are you doing here, Emma?"

"I saw you here and I wanted to see if you were okay,"

"What's it to you? You don't even respond to my messages on time. Do you even care about me anymore?"

What is he talking about?

"Of course I do, that's why I'm here," as I say this, he picks up a brown paper bag. He's drunk.

"What? You act like you've never seen liquor before,"

"You need to get home. Who brought you here?"

"I walked, duh. Not everyone has a car like you," Ouch.

I don't know why I haven't noticed until now, but the smell of booze is so strong that my eyes are watering.

"Come on," I grab his arm and tug him upward. He's like dead weight. Dragging him is hard.

We make it to my car and he slouches in my passenger's seat.

"Where are we going?"

"To your house," I know he has keys because I hear them in his pocket.

The ride is stressful. He's flopping every where and won't sit still. He keeps screaming and it's freaking me out.

When we get to his house, he pulls at the car door and flies out. He stumbles up his porch steps, jiggles the keys, takes a swig from his bottle, and kicks open the door.

"Ryder, relax," I reach for him but he steps away.

"How can I relax when my grandma is in the hospital, huh?"

So that's what this is about.

"What happened to her, Ryder?" I place my hands on his shoulders and sturdy him. He starts rubbing his head, trying to remember.

"I-I-I heard a-a thump so I came downstairs and she was—there. On the floor, barely conscious," he's tearing up again.

"She was cold. I tried to stay with her and help but I didn't know what happened," he's crying harder now.

"So I called 9-1-1 and they came in like, 3 minutes flat. When I tried to go with her and see what was wrong, they wouldn't let me. I don't have a car so I couldn't follow them so I sat in here and drank this crap to calm my nerves," he holds up the bag. Poor Ryder.

"They say she had fallen, which I figured. But she fell hard and landed on her chest. The force winded her and because her bones are brittle, they say she may be in worse condition then she looks. I waited so long to call. SHE MIGHT DIE AND IT WOULD BE MY FAULT!" he's screaming now.

"Why would it be your fault?"

"I should've called sooner—I can't lose her, she's all I have left, Emma," he's sobbing.

I go to hug him but he pushes me away. He starts hitting himself. The blows are soundly and loud. I run and grab his fist. Pinning them above his head, I push myself against him to keep him from resisting. Who knew I was so strong?

"Let's go upstairs now," I plea and he walks in front of me, hands behind his back, my fingers pinioning his wrist.

We get to his room and he collapses on the bed. His room is nice. He has lots of collectables and—oh my gosh. I look up and see a picture of him and another man. He's a small boy and he has on a leather jacket that's way too big. The man sits, kneeling beside him. They have the same pretty smile.

"Stop staring at my dad. He's dead, you can't have him," I turn around and see Ryder sitting up on the bed. He takes another swig of booze and blinks at me. I gotta get that bottle.

"Gimme the bottle, Ryder, now,"

"Um, no.. Why would I do that?" his speech is more slurred.

"Because you're killing yourself,"

"Good," and he takes another sip, a long one.

"Give me the bottle, Ryder," I'm more forceful with my speech.

"You want it? Come get it," and the fight is on.

I launch after him. We tumble around on his bed. At a time, I get the bottle but he snatches it out of my grasp.

I fight ear and limb for that bottle. When it's out of his hand, he starts mumbling.

"You're hot,"

"You're drunk," and a sly grin crosses his face.

"Yeah, I'm totally smashed," and there he sits, drowning in alcohol.

He grabs me and pulls me close. Because I'm standing and he's sitting, you can only imagine where his hands are...

"Remember the first time I touched you here," he's caressing me. "That was fun," he's smiling. But he stops.

He runs to the bathroom and vomits. He's holding the seat like a life preserver. I walk over and put my hand on his back.

This guy can upchuck. It's about 15 minutes later when he's fully emptied. He walks to the bed and falls. He's exhausted, I can see it in his eyes.

"Can I have your keys? I don't want you going anywhere," he gives them to me. Too tired to fight, I guess. I check my phone. It's almost 9. Geez, I have to get going.

"I'll visit you tomorrow morning before DS, mkay?" he nods. I run my fingers through his hair and and he closes his eyes, letting himself feel it. "Goodnight Ryder, go to bed"

I lock the door on the way out. I throw the bottle away in the outside trash bin. I don't need him finding it.

♡ ♡ ♡

When I get home, Karen is freaking out.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick! Are you drunk, you smell like you're drunk. What happened to "coming home after Mel's", huh? What happened?"

"Karen, I'm okay. I haven't been drinking. A friend of mine is going through something and I stopped by to help, that's all. Sorry I didn't text you but I rushed right over once I knew what time it was,"

She nods, clearly seeing I don't want to discuss it.

"We'll talk about it in the morning," She says. I nod.

Once I get upstairs, I crash. I'm so tired. This bed really suits me, I should get in it more often.