"There...there she is..." Groaning, I felt my body being drug from the fuzzy carpet. My mood lower than my alcohol tolerance, I drearily met eyes with her. Immediately pulling me into a hug from worries, she sighed in relief. "Y-You're okay...you are," she smiled, her eyes watering. Shamefully avoiding eye contact, I looked at my hands. They were dirty and dry, stained from tears and blood. I did a lot of shit that week that I wish I hadn't, but I couldn't change the past.
Her soft, pure hands crept over to mine. Interlacing fingers, she leaned forward and kissed my forehead. Looking up into her vivid eyes, I winced the lingering pain in my stomach growing. "Y/N, what's wrong?" She asked. Shaking my head, my hands foolishly held my stomach. I didn't want to worry her more than I'd already did. She stayed awake night after night worrying about and calling me while I slept soundly on that fuzzy rug at some drug dealer's house.
Thanking the girl for keeping me safe, she helped me to her car. The first second into the drive I cried harder than I'd ever done before. "I'm such a shitty person...this entire week I did stupid shit. I just felt like there was something missing in my life and that I was so boring. I kept you up night after night worried sick about me and I didn't even bother to apologize. Lauren, I'm so fucking sorry that I'm the worst person in the world," I wept, crying into the sleeve of her shirt. Rubbing my back comfortingly, I stopped her. "Don't comfort me, hurt me like I hurt you...please," I begged.
She laughed, focusing on the road. "And what will me abusing you solve? You had a rough week, I understand," she said.
At home, she made me shower and eat. After worrying about my health, she brought me downstairs to talk. "I want you to tell me everything that happened this week," she said softly. "Okay, I'll try," I complied.
