Chapter 4: Sober

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❀Azalea❀

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❀Azalea❀

"Do you think I'll  ever see him again, Mr. Terrip?" I question which honestly makes me want to throw myself off a bridge.

It's been a week and a half. A week and a half of me wondering about him. A week and a half of me trying to tell me to stop thinking about him and to forget about his terrible manners and rude attitude.

"Who?" Mr. Terrip asks and I feel like throwing a book at his head.

"Albuquerque the turkey, " I deadpan and he laughs.

"Forget I said anything, I think I'm going crazy," I shake my head.

"I think you've been crazy for a while," Mr. Terrip teases and I point a threatening finger at his face.

"On that note, I'm leaving," I pick up my book for the night.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Azalea," he tells me goodbye as we walk out. I stay beside him as he locks up and once he's done, we go our separate ways.

"Where's your car?" he calls out and I wince.

"I walked," I smile.

"I told you not to do that," he scolds and I sigh.

"Goodbye!" I call over my shoulder and I can just see him shaking his head in disappointment.

I swear, he acts like I live an hour away or something.

This morning I just woke up with a little extra energy so I walked. I've grown to like walking better than driving anyway.

Although, I haven't walked to the bookstore since before the accident.

Maybe that's why my knee is slightly pounding.

I make it home and take notice that both parents are home.

God, please give me a good day here.

I open the front door and keep my head down as I walk through the living room. I catch sight of a couple of Jack Daniels bottles on the coffee table and I close my eyes in an attempt to picture the table the way it used to be before the wreck.

Fresh flowers in a clear vase. Maybe even a couple of 'Good Living' magazines.

I should've stopped walking when I closed my eyes. But I didn't.

For a kid, a father's arms should feel like the safest place in the world. Not the scariest.

The smell of alcohol on him was what hit my senses first, then I felt the tight grip of his hand on the back of my shirt.

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