The Devil Of District 7

Chapter {7}

BAILEY

The next few days seem to blend in together. They all feel the same to me. I spend them in the same places and the nights are composed of countless drinks at Tom's. They usually end when Tom has to keep me from dancing on a pool table - to the despair of the bikers present drinking their beers.

To my own despair, the mornings after are spent in the tiny and uncomfortable couch of my living room and medication always near me.

Today, to add to steaming cup of tea resting next to me, my phone is present and my eyes are glued to the screen. Before me lay updates of my sister's whereabouts granted by Sam - and I'm very grateful for this.

He started doing this not even two days after my demand on the rooftop.

He filled me in on Liz and gave me a little intel on that boyfriend of hers. I never answered because he always seemed to want to check on me at the end of his texts.

After thinking as hard as I could this week - and that was very difficult - I decided to cut all physical ties with Sam. We couldn't be friends, we simply couldn't.

This morning's text though, it holds a different vibe than all the others. It's about yesterday's classes and it looks a bit rushed.

Sam can't possibly think that I haven't read the texts at all. I made sure that they were all left on 'read'.

But that doesn't seem to be enough for him because the text reveals that he's worried. Maybe all the people from downtown type their texts like after being ignored for several days.

I have to admit. One of reasons for being practically MIA is because I'm just embarrassed of the poor excuse of a human being I've been this past week.I feel like I'm a mere shell of myself, always tired and on edge.

Being drunk pretty much all the time and feeling like shit right after. I know perfectly well that a teenager of my age shouldn't spend as much time drinking to numbness, as I do. But I do it, until I feel nothing.

With the pounding of my head my faithful companion, I start to make my way towards my bedroom so I can sleep the pain away.

But instead of doing exactly that, knock on my front door makes me jump and letting go the glass in my hand.

The water spreads lazily on the wooden floor, forming a puddle that will be a pain on the butt to wipe out later. I just watch it becoming larger and larger.

A louder knock at the door reminds me of the unexpected visitor. My footsteps are heavy and my eyes can barely stay open as I walk to the door, prepared to tell whoever it is to go to hell.

A surprised gasp escapes my lips as I find the one and only Sam standing there, with flushed cheeks and messy hair making him even more handsome than usual.

I quickly adopt stoic expression and greet him, trying to hide my shitty state.

The attempt at appearing somewhat normal is a total fail when he asks, "Are you hungover ?"

"Whoa thanks, bud. I love being insulted instead of receiving a hello." I scoff, I will not admit to Sam how much of a drunk I've been this week.

His eyes widen a little and he tries to say something but I cut him off, "How did you find me, Sam ?" I ask harshly, "You can't be here."

I don't want to hurt him but he's not supposed to be here. This apartment is the only place when I can get some privacy. No one knows about it except for my parents and- "Liz told you about it, didn't she?"

The answer is written on his face, she did tell him. Sam's shoulder slump and his whole demeanor changes in what looks like shame.

"Look, Bailey, I'm sorry for coming, I know that Liz wasn't supposed to tell me where you lived but-"