The only one for me || Colby Brock

Part 10 - Consequences

No one's P.O.V

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, Sam rubbed his eyes, fighting the feeling of sleeping as he sat up in bed. The sounds of muted shuffling and hushed voices in the living room caught his attention. He ran a hand through his messy hair and stepped out to see what was going on.

The first thing he saw when he came out was Colby. When had he come over? Clohie was slumped on the couch, her hair tangled and her eyes barely open. She wore the same clothes from last night, wrinkled, evidence of the chaos that had unfolded. On the floor nearby, an empty bottle rolled around on the livingroom floor, meaning she had kept drinking after there talk.

Colby was crouched beside her, a worried expression etched on his face. "Hey, man, I thought you were supposed to keep an eye on her," Sam heard him say softly.

Sam's heart sank as he turned to face his sister. "Clohie," he said, using a tone that made him sound like a disappointed parent. "What the hell happened last night?"

Clohie's eyes fluttered open, confusion marring her features. "Sam? I... I don't remember."

"Of course you don't!" he burst out. It was hard to keep his frustration inside of him, but he didn't want to yell. Not now. Not when he was trembling with concern. "You were completely out of it. I found you in the guestroom, on the floor. Do you even realize how dangerous this is?"

Colby stood, crossing his arms as he gave Sam a cautious look. "Maybe take it easy on her, dude. She didn't mean—"

"Didn't mean to what?" Sam cut in, his voice sharp. "Drink and forget about everything? Clohie, this isn't just a phase anymore, This is your life!"

Clohie finally sat upright, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch. Her face was pale, and Sam felt a flicker of sympathy. "I'm sorry. I'm just... it's hard. I didn't want to ruin your night."

"Ruin my night? You are ruining yourself! You need help!" His voice echoed, and he instantly regretted raising it. The tension hovered in the air, thicker than any silence he had ever experienced.

"I'm not an alcoholic, Sam!" Clohie snapped defensively, but the guilt in her eyes betrayed her bravado. "I just had a rough couple of years, and you fucking know about it!"

"Rough years? You say that every time! When do you stop making excuses?" Sam's heart raced, each word punctuating the truth that had been gnawing at him for weeks. "What will it take for you to get it? You're spiraling, Clohie!"

Colby shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to behave during the rapidly escalating conversation. "Maybe we should just sit down and talk about it—"

"No!" Sam interrupted, his frustration bubbling over. "This is not a discussion. This is a wake-up call. You're putting yourself in danger and dragging us down with you."

Clohie's expression shifted, a mixture of anger and despair. "You think I want this? You don't know what it's like to feel this way... to feel lost!" Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she blinked them away, fighting to maintain her composure.

"You're right, I don't know," Sam said, his voice quieter, but still firm. "But I'll never understand if you keep drinking away your problems instead of facing them."

He turned away, unable to look at her face any longer. The weight of their unresolved issues hung over them like a storm cloud, ready to unleash its fury.

"Sam, don't walk away from me!" Clohie cried out, her voice breaking.

But he didn't turn back. He felt sick and helpless. The thought of his sister drowning in her addiction, again, felt like a weight on his chest, suffocating him.

Colby stepped forward, clearly caught in the middle. "Maybe... maybe we should just give her some space?"

"No!" Sam's voice broke as he faced his friend, desperation spilling out of him. "She needs more than space, she needs help, and I don't know how to get her to see that!"

Clohie remained silent, the reality of the situation settling in like a heavy fog. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she stood up, her demeanor shifting from defiance to resignation. "I don't need your help, and rehab dosen't help, trust me" she whispered, but the conviction behind those words was fading. "I can handle this."

"Clohie," Sam started, but the words tangled in his throat. Colby moved to her side, trying to offer comfort, but Sam felt the rift between them growing.

"I'll be fine," Clohie said, her voice cracking, but a hollow quality echoed behind her bravado. She turned and headed towards the door, "I just need to go home."

"Clohie, don't!" Sam called after her, but the door shut with a quiet finality.

Silence filled the apartment, the air thick with unresolved tension. Colby looked at Sam, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had widened between them.

"What now?" Colby asked quietly.

Sam sank into the couch, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know. I thought... I thought I could save her."

Outside, the world continued. Sam knew, deep down, that he might not get a second chance. And that fear of standing by while Clohie drifted further away, was the fear that haunted him most. He wanted to be there for her this time, this is the first time in years they had seen eatchother and all they do is arguing with eatchother.

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