Cassie
The pulsating beat of the music pounds through me like a drum, making it impossible to hear anything. I navigate through the crowds of people, searching to find James. He had given me his beer bottle to hold, telling me that he was just going to step outside for some air.
I push my way through the crowd, and then out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Betty stumbling into a bedroom with a boy. I quicken my pace up the stairs, my instincts screaming at me that something isn't right. I push open the door and freeze in horror at the sight before me.
I see Dane on top of Betty, his hands pinning her down to the bed. She's crying, pleading for him to stop. Without thinking, I raise the beer bottle and swing it towards the wooden bed frame. The bottle shatters upon impact, sending shards of glass flying in all directions.
"Get the hell away from her!" I shout, pointing the broken bottle towards his neck. "Now!"
And then, with a muttered curse, he staggers backward, his grip on Betty's thigh loosening. Breathless and trembling, I lunge forward, grabbing Betty's hand and pulling her away from the beer-soaked bed.
"Are you okay?" I ask. Betty nods, her eyes brimming with tears. "Let's get you home, okay?"
I guide Betty out the front door, her arm draped over my shoulder as she stumbles along beside me. We walk down the dimly lit street, Betty's steps faltering with each drunken sway. Suddenly, her body lurches forward, and I quickly pull her to the side of the road as she vomits onto the pavement.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry," she whimpers.
"It's okay, Betty," I reassure her, holding back her hair. "Let's just get you home."
I watch as Betty leans against a lamppost, her face pale and streaked with tears. "Cassie," she whispers, her voice shaky. "Don't tell James about this."
I nod, the sincerity of her plea cutting through the haze of the night. "Don't worry, I won't."
She grabs my arm, her grip desperate. "Please, don't tell him about anything that happened tonight."
I hesitate. "I won't. I promise."
But just like that, she straightens up and starts to walk away.
"Betty!" I shout, running after her.
"I'm fine. I can get myself home from here," she snaps, her tone curt and defensive. "Just go back to the party."
I slow down, watching her figure fade into the dimly lit street.
YOU ARE READING
Tadpoles in My Jar
Подростковая литератураBetty and James grew up right across the street from each other, best friends from the start. As they grow into teenagers during the late 1980s, their relationship blossoms into something more. But as fate steps in, James and Betty must face the cha...
