The eternality in our ephemerality

Chapter 68. How was that for a plot twist?

We walked a couple of steps until finally, we reached the sofa in the garden. He moaned and protested but it all came down with a bunch of saliva and nonsensical words, I hate drunkies. To my own luck, he fell right into the red couch and with the remainder of my strength I helped him sit down. I sat next to him.... Foolishly

"Are you okay?" I asked innocently

"Yes, the booze helps"

"Helps on what?!" I snapped "You know it is just a liquid right?" I said sadly

No answer. He grabbed the bottle and began to place it under his lips.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" I said as I stopped him before his lips touched the bottle.

I was also worried, he was a nice guy, a guy who liked me for who I was and neglected everyone's prejudices; he had only been nice to me and I would only cause more damage and cruelty if I left him alone right now... besides no one deserves to fall on the alcohol's lie.

"Nope." He drank. I stood silent watching him end the bottle all by himself. Reducing the decent guy I thought I knew, to a guy barely recognizable with puffed red eyes and a hoodie filled with guilt and sorrow.

"I have enough when I say so" He said angrily, his hand wiped off the saliva rolling down his cheeks as his fists clenched. The bottle was soon thrown out of sight as it smashed against the floor. I jumped.

"Okay then" I said as I began to scoot my way away from him and stand up. I was not going to deal with him as a drunk person....

He is not this guy. He is not this guy, I constantly reminded myself.

"Are you leaving?" He asked. My eyes zoomed at his fists only to notice that they were still clenched and tightened. The glasses of the bottle were still on the ground, his head was tired and his eyes were red. He looked despicable, absolutely disgusting. But I couldn't leave him... Especially not in that state.

"No" I said, the survival instinct kicked but was scold off by my good side. I could not lie to him as easy as it was, he should have a friend to rely on, a shoulder to cry on. Or puke on my subconscious added. I goose bumped the thought out.

No, no. He is just drunk, no need to over react.

But I schooched my way a little further...

My hands zoomed to my jeans and accommodated them so nothing could be misinterpreted. A memory soon came over me. I was warned about him, that he got violent when he drank, that he smashed things and destroyed every speck of decent humanity he had in himself. He destroyed the good image I possessed in my mind about him. Who is as foolish as I was to stay with a person who could potentially hurt me? Well, I know I am.

I just thought that that sweet boy could never be twisted by the alcohols influence, that he would still be kind and appreciative just a little bit more energetic.... I was clearly mistaken.

Maybe people are true about calling me innocent and naive, after all my diet consists of candies and I've been hurt several times.

Was this going to be another one?

I scratched my way a little bit more...

Fear begun to increase

"Don't go," He demanded. I gulped. His voice was rough and cruel, like the edge of a knife. His white big hand clenched my own. I slowly tried to get away from him as my eyes locked with his veins. My inner pity told me to stay and help him be himself again, but my truthful harsh voice screamed and howled at all costs that I got out of there.