Y/n's POV:
"I know you think this is a game shawn but this needs to stop," Scoffing at his immature behavior, I slowly sweep up the broken whiskey bottle that he threw, just wanting to go to bed instead of dealing with him tonight.
"You wonder why I do this?" The heavy intake on alcohol slurs his words, making what he's saying nearly impossible to understand, but what bothers me most is the hint of anger he holds.
"I already know why you do this," i look over my shoulder to see him sitting on the couch, looking at the ceiling, veins popping out from all the frustration coursing through him, "you don't know how to deal with pain."
"And who the fuck are you to tell me that?" Immediately he looks at me like I'm some sort of prey, and he's just waiting for his chance to kill me.
"I know you Shawn," tears brim my eyes, not wanting to believe someone I love so much can be so bitter because of some drug he learned to love, "and I know what people do to avoid things."
I take the dust pan full of glass and empty it into the garbage, hoping we'll just go our separate ways for sleeping tonight, I never loved the smell of whiskey coming from his lips.
"If you think I'm hurting over you, you're wrong," the slurring becomes worse and the hate doesn't lessen up, but the impact of the words he has is heartbreaking and brutal all at the same time.
"Why would I ever think I was worth hurting over?" With my back turned to him I cover my face with my hands, thinking of a way to get out of this.
For months he'd come home drunk, and violent, one night it ended in furniture being flipped and screaming, until my wails sobered him up enough to know what he was doing was wrong.
"Well you're not darling," I hear him shift around on the couch as I hold in my cries, "I never gave a shit about you."
I nod go myself, trying to convince myself that this isn't news, that I've known this for a long time, but somehow hearing it makes it so much more raw.
"Then I guess you won't care if I leave then," my heart begins to throb at my own words, not thinking I had the guts to do this.
"Damn right I wont," shawn chuckles a cold, cruel laugh and slowly dozes off, the effects of the alcohol taking over his common sense and functions
Crying I make my way upstairs, packing my suitcase of all my belongings, feeling a hole forming in my heart.
All I wanted to do was help him, but it became clear he wasn't going to change, and only a matter of time before the fights we have become physical.
Before leaving our home, I take one last look at the couch, seeing the shawn I used to know, the harmless, caring man that would do anything to make sure I was well.
Sleeping, it's almost like I can cuddle up next to him, but reality slowly reminds me that he isn't sleeping because he's tired, he's sleeping because he didn't think it was worth coming home sober.
"Goodbye shawn," i whisper wiping my eyes, "please go get help soon."
________________________________________~yo this is sad, poor shawn :-(
~Leah
