Chapter 5- Guilt

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Previously:

I look him in his gorgeous green eyes and wipe away his tears. "I'm happy I met someone as broken as me," I say honestly.

He giggles.

"Let's drink," he says and opens the freezer. He pulls out a bottle of vodka and a little shot glass.
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I shouldn't drink due to the fact that alcohol is single handedly the substance that caused my father to die slowly over the course of twenty years, but it was hard not to when Harry was upset, as well as me.

"Here," the handsome boy said. I couldn't say no.

I took the small glass out of his hands, trying to avoid the strong scent of alcohol hitting my nose. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and drank as fast as I could. The flavor of nail polish remover hit the back of my tongue, and I gagged. Harry giggled as he said," you're so cute," and took his shot like a champ. He opens a cabinet, pulls out a normal sized cup, and pours some apple juice. "Here's a chaser," he smiled.

After taking about four shots, I started to feel weird. Am I drunk? I kept asking myself every few minutes.

Harry seemed fine after the four shots, so we continued.

5...6....7....8....9

I need to sit down...

I sat down on the white couch in Harry's living room and closed my eyes. I feel the couch shift as somebody sits next to me.

"You okay, love?" I hear my curly haired "date" say.

"I feel a little..." I didn't even get to finish my sentence. I could feel myself get closer and closer to throwing up as I dart off of the couch and out the front door. I'm lucky I made it to the grass. The release of all the toxins in my body felt good, but I still felt sick.
I feel strong hands touch my shoulders and pull my hair out of my face as he says,"I'm a dick. I shouldn't have let you drink that much," he slurred. He was drunk, but functioning. I felt the guilt start to form a pit in my stomach.

Papa would be so disappointed with you right now.

"Lets get you into some clean clothes," Harry says.

I sit on the concrete and stare at the grass. I feel terrible. "Connie, love. Lets get you a new shirt."

I didn't move.

After a few minutes of sitting and staring, Harry's strong arms wrap around my frail body as he picks me up bridal style. I lay my head on his shoulder and sob. "I don't f-feel good-d," I cry.

"I know Con, I'll getcha fixed up," he says and plants a light kiss on my forehead.

He walks into his house, past the kitchen, and turns left to walk down the hallway. He continues walking, and enters the last bedroom at the end of the hall. It was the master.

Harry sets me gently on his bed and looks at me as he gives me a hug. "I'm so sorry," he says quietly.

When Harry lets go, I lay back and close my eyes. My head is pounding.

Even when my eyes are closed, my thoughts are morphed. When my eyes are open, the world is spinning and I feel like I'm going to vomit again.

"Sit up please, you're okay," he says as he props me up in his bed.
I feel his warm hands brush against my face.

"You're so beautiful," he says. I'm too drunk to react.

"I have a shirt for you," he says and smiles. I lift my arms up with my eyes closed. I can't function. "Oh," he says. "Do you need help?" he asked in such a kind voice.

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