Weirdo //h.s. [Editing]

[10] Drunk

Harry (*Unexpected twist! You're welcome*)

I stand up and quietly exit the room, shutting the door softly behind me. After a few minutes of sobbing uncontrollably, Sydney fell asleep on me. I had been rubbing her back soothingly to calm her down and after awhile, I heard her breathing slow, she had fallen asleep. She looked so exhausted and drained, physically and emotionally, and it's all my fault. I did this to her, and it actually kills me to think about it.

But I did what I did and I can't turn it around now. It's too late to fix my mistakes, I couldn't even if I tried. It hurt to see her look so broken, and to think that I was the cause. I'm a horrible person, I know I am, I can't even deny. But I can't change now, and I won't. I'll continue to convince myself that I don't want to.

Harry, stop being such a soft ass! You need to do this, it'll be worth it in the end! My conscious tries to convince me. He's right, it's so worth it, and I am being too soft.

I shake my head and laugh to myself, I am such an idiot. I walk over to the fridge and pull out a beer, popping it open and plopping down on the couch in the living room. I turn the tv on and flip to a channel that is a minimal amount of stupid and try to enjoy my drink. I haven't had a drink in forever and with the amount of stress I'm going through right now, I need one so bad. I bring the can up to my lips and welcome the familiar burn that runs down my throat as I swallow. I have missed this so much; sitting and having a beer. I will admit, I didn't quite think this whole thing through. I was convinced that I wanted to take Sydney, but she's such a handful. She is so damn stubborn and reluctant about everything, and she always disobeys me. That girl is such a piece of work, she annoys the fuck out of me.

She angers me to no end and she pushes my limits the farthest they will go, and that's why I lose my temper so damn easily. That and the threat I have looming over me. It's her own fault for all the shit I put her through, if she'd just cooperate it wouldn't be so bad for her. I always get so into the moment that I hit her when I think I'm supposed to. After words, I feel so much guilt about what I have done, but after awhile, I manage to convince myself that what I did needed to be done. I push that guilt away and the cycle starts over.

I finish the last gulp of beer and throw it on the floor, not caring about the mess; I'll pick it up later. I let out a grunt and stand up to go and get another one. I think I deserve it.

~~

I groan and groggily stand up from the couch, feeling dizzy as I do so. I slowly and not-so-steadily walk into the kitchen, peering up at the clock on the wall in the process. It reads 6pm and I crease my eyebrows in thought. Has it really been that long? Last I remember it was only like noon. I shake my head and open the fridge, grabbing one last can of beer, promising myself this one is really the last. I had said that at least four cans ago.

I had spent the whole afternoon on the couch drinking away my nasty thoughts. Sometime throughout those hours, I managed to pass out, only to wake up an hour later for more. I'm such an idiot it's not funny. I wasted my day divulging in booze, I can't remember the last time I've done that, and I had always hoped it wouldn't happen again. Too late for that now I guess.

I chug the remainder of the drink and toss the can in the bin, the first one to be properly put away, as the others lay empty on the floor. I look at the living room floor, trying to count the cans laying around, but my mind is too hazy to get past five. My thoughts eventually wander to Sydney and how she is just a few rooms away from me right now. I haven't seen her all day after her breakdown earlier, and paying her a little visit wouldn't hurt. I smirk to myself as I quietly make my way to her door, pushing it open slowly and welcoming the soft sound of the creak it makes. I see her lying there, on her bed, ever so peacefully. She looks like an angel with her brown hair fanned out across the pillow, and her mouth partly open. It takes everything in me not to go over to her, but apparently everything in me isn't enough because I find myself walking over anyway.