She's The Artist

| Chapter 29: Scared Of Apologies |

(Listen to song at the top) 

Warning: Mention of drugs, Violence, Alcohol, and Death

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"You know Sam, I just don't care anymore."

I am currently on my third glass of vodka and spilling my guts to my best friend Sam who, at the moment is high as a fucking chicken.

Chicken? Am I really that drunk already? 

"Here we go againnn. . ." Sam moans and throws his head back against my couch. The couch I've been living on for the past two weeks. I know, sad.

"What? I'm for real this time. No more crying, No more looking at my phone 24/7, and no more, I mean noo more spying on my neighbour." I slur.

Okay, maybe I feel bad for throwing Ethan's tine tiny trust in me out the window. But what I said to him was the truth and nothing but the truth. I do know a few people that can give me information on him and his past and give the evidence. I've done it before and it really did cost me but, it was for the right reasons.

"Honey, you really, really need to get over that man eater. Like. . . now." Sam whispers the last part. Knowing him and being high, he probably thinks Ethan's in the room right now.

"Sam, that's the thing. I just. . . can't" I say and sigh in frustration, picking up the glass next to the couch and filling it to the top with alcohol. The more the merrier. . .

Sam sees this and, to my surprise, gets up from the couch and sways himself over to me, and slaps the glass out of my hand and making yet another stain on my rug.

I just bought that rug three days ago. . . 

"What the hell, Sam!" I question and look from the rug, to him.

He stands in front of me with his arms crossed across his chest and a strain look on his face. A serious look. A deadly look. A, If-You-Don't-Look-At-Me-Right-Now-I-Will-Kill-You look.

Okay, no more vodka.

"I think you had enough to drink, don't you think?" he tilts his head a little to the side and glares at me. Well, I guess he's not that high then.

"Hey, you're the one who said. . ." I hiccup. "Who said that drinking, and not taking my meds where the best way to forget. Did you not say that?" I lean back and throw my arms around the backs of the couch. I lean my head back and look up at the ceiling. I think I'm higher then Sam and didn't even take drugs.

I hear Sam sigh heavily and not even two seconds after, I feel his hand gently grab my chin, pulling down to were we are back to eye level.

Sam looks deeply into my eye's, my soul. Here's the thing with Sam. He can read me like an open book. As long and as hard as I try to hide whatever I'm feeling about something or someone from him, he sees right throw it. That's why I never hide from him.

So, right now he can probably see how sad, guilty, frustrated, and half-drunk I am.

"Alex, I know that you know that I know that you can't hide anything from me. Well, emotionally that is." he chuckles a little and I pout, nodding my head a little as well. "But keeping all this built-up emotion isn't good for you. I've known you for almost 6 years now and I saw how much pain there was in you. How much shit you were keeping inside and I, for the record, didn't say anything because I was scared. I was so scared."

I look at him curiously, keeping my head in the little tilt it was.

He can read my confusion and questions right at the tip of my togue. But, I keep quiet and let him talk.