withdrawals/withdrawals

chapter 5

"Scott!" I shouted, jiggling the door handle to get outside and break the two men apart. I felt a weight pull the door back as I tried to yank it open, and Scott's voice rumbled on the other side. He was seething.

"Stay inside, Mae. Just give me a minute."

Sam was quick to cut in. "Excuse me? I'm here to see my friend. You don't get to talk to her like that-"

"Do not make me into the villain here, boy. You are one to fuckin' talk."

Jesus Christ. I finally managed to summon up enough strength to whip the door open against Scott's grasp, and step right in between him and Sam, who were getting frighteningly close to one another. I placed a hand on each of their chests while they stared each other down with crazed eyes.

"Both of you need to shut the fuck up," I snapped with a light shove to try and create some distance between everyone. "This is ridiculous."

Sam nods and rolls his eyes as if we've been on the same page this whole time. "Yeah, I agree. Let's go inside, Mae, this guy's insane."

I watched with fear as Scott's nostrils flared, his tattooed hands balling up into dangerously tight fists. His knuckles turned white as he spoke through gritted teeth, his voice dripping with venom.

"I'll show you insane."

In the blink of an eye he lunged at Sam and tackled him downwards, hitting him square on the nose with a loud crack.

I gasp and rush to pull Scott away, but before I can touch him he's already back to standing position, wiping sweat off his forehead and towering over Sam like a lion about to finish off its prey.

"What the fuck?!" Sam squeaks out, holding a hand over his nose as he glares between Scott and I.

I was completely frozen, my mouth hanging agape as I tried to force my brain to process what had just happened and how we got here. Scott, a man I had met six days ago, just punched my best friend of five years. Sam was on the ground outside my apartment door, feet away from me, bleeding from the nose profusely and whimpering like a wounded animal. I wanted to feel bad for him. I really did. But I just couldn't.

Because he deserved it, a tiny voice somewhere deep in my subconscious thought. But that wasn't true...was it?

"Will you help me up?" Sam pleaded, sitting up on one elbow and attempting to stop the blood pouring from his face with his other arm.

As I nodded and moved to kneel down beside him I heard Scott's mocking tone behind me.

"Will you help me up? Pussy." He snickered, spitting onto the ground.

As scary as I found Scott, I couldn't help but notice the similarities between his and Sam's childish, blind fits of rage. The main difference, however, was that Scott would apparently act out on his, while Sam would just complain about something until someone, usually me, told him to shut up.

Men, I thought to myself with an undetectable snicker as I helped Sam to his feet. He draped his free arm dramatically across my back as if he had just escaped a battlefield. I began to shuffle past Scott to bring him inside, but was halted by his hand's gentle touch on my arm. He finally met my eyes for the first time since Sam had showed up, his gaze soft and apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Mae," He muttered. "Didn't mean to lash out like that. Happens sometimes."

I open my mouth to reply but Sam cuts me off. "You should be apologizing to me, asshole."

All traces of guilt and empathy vanished from Scott's face in an instant, and his head cocked to the side as he looked Sam up and down. "Actually, you should be apologizing to her," He responded aggressively, jerking his head in my direction before turning away completely to   dig a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and bring one to his lips.