Unforgivable

Chapter 6

The radio quietly played in the midst of the car ride. There was a prominent smell of cigarette smoke which forced me to roll my window down. The underside of my thighs began to feel unbearably hot against the thick fabric of my sweatpants.

"I'm sorry for doing bad things to you," Booker spoke abruptly, "I'm not a bad person anymore, I swear. I'm trying, Rhea, I really am."

My eyes continued to scan the filthy interior of his car, and I stifled a laugh. I caught a glimpse of an empty beer bottle lying on his back seat.

"Good people don't drink," I replied, rolling my window down lower, "or smoke."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and I noticed how his knuckles were bruised and scabbed. Sweat was beading against the dark brown hair that swept over his forehead.

"I tried to change, Rhea, for Matt. He make me realize that I was ruining my life. I was kicked out of the house a few months ago, and I was left to drink and smoke with the lousy bartender I now call my father, because as of a few months ago, I don't have one!"

His voice was raised to a shout, making me slump in my seat like a coward. I knew what Booker was capable of, and I'm usually sure not to make him upset. I watched as he made a sharp turn around the corner, tires screeching as the car shook in response.

"S-slow down," I pointed out, my hand stretching out to grab his arm, "I'm sorry."

He jerked his arm away from my hand, and reached into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes.

"Please don't," I mumbled, "it makes me feel sick."

"You make me feel sick," he grumbled, sticking one in his mouth.

We reached the hospital, and he was quick to be the first out of the car, giving me a cold stare as I grabbed my jacket and walked towards the entrance. I faced away from him, fumbling with it, trying to get it onto my shoulders. My body froze as I heard him slam the door, and my breath was cut short by the sudden whiff of cigarette smoke.

I struggle to keep my breathing normal, I was afraid that if I coughed at the smoke, I would offend Booker. I kept my eyes plastered to the dirty concrete as I waited for him to finish his cigarette. I looked up as I felt a rough tap on the shoulder, only to find Booker taking long, fast strides until he reached the automatic doors.

"Are you coming or not," he snapped over his shoulder, "you're so irritating."

I took a few fast steps to catch up, and then trailed behind him. It wasn't long before we were let into Matt's room.

I gently pushed Booker aside, who was blocking the entrance to room. I quietly walked over to Matt, who was sleeping. My heart beat faster as I watched him sleep, I felt a little crazy doing so, but it was hard not to watch the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. His messy hair scattered over his forehead drove me crazy.