[ Human ]

Drunken Tendencies (11)

Timeskip
Your POV
•-•-•-•-•

I stumble backwards, falling onto my back as the door gets slammed in front of me. Hurriedly shuffling to get onto my feet, I try to open the door, but it's locked from the outside.

I start pounding on the door, almost desperately, and yell, "Hank! Hank!"

Regaining my composure, I realize that no matter how hard I hit this door or how loud I scream at him to let me out, he won't.

Not until he's sober, at least.

I sigh heavily as I plop down on the edge of the bathtub, knowing I'll have to wait in here for god knows how long for Hank to release me.

Turning around to place my covered feet in the tub, I push the transparent and thin curtains away from the window and try to open it, but no such luck. It doesn't have a lock, meaning it doesn't open.

I don't want to damage Hank's property, as I know I'll have to pay for its replacement later if I do, so I face the bathroom door again instead.

Raising my left hand, I wipe the blood dripping from my nose and mouth, ignoring the throbbing pain along the left side of my face.

I bite my lip, worried about what's going on out there with Hank. He's my friend, and I don't want him hurting himself.

Eventually, I give up on wiping the blood away from my face as it trails down it, just letting it happen. Unless the red liquid dripping from my nose reaches my mouth.

I then mentally facepalm as I tear some toilet paper away from the roll, using it to catch the blood from my nose.

Clicking sounds can be heard and minutes later, I hear a thud from somewhere nearby, causing me to abruptly stand.

Back at the door in an instant, I start banging on it again, "Hank?!"

Groaning in frustration, I kick the door once and growl, "Come. On!"

I don't break it down, though.

I just sit back down on the edge of the tub, waiting impatiently.

My phone is left on the kitchen table, so I can't call anybody or occupy myself with it.

I shift so that I'm parallel with the length of the tub, bending my left leg as I let the same side's foot sit on the tub's lining with me. My right foot is set on the ground, my hands in my lap as I lay my head back to rest against the yellow-tiled wall.

The aching slowly simmers down as time passes, the boredom setting in pretty fast. The concern stays in the pit of my stomach, my right foot tapping against the floor anxiously.

"Lieutenant Anderson?" a familiar voice distantly calls, startling me. "Anybody home?"

"Connor?" I yell, standing up.

I throw the toilet paper stuffed up my nose away, the bleeding less intense now.

"Connor?" I repeat, getting no answer.