Page 6 of Bleeding Hearts
I soften my voice. “Lally?”
She groans, her head falling to the side. I push her pink, wavy hair behind her ear so I can see her beautiful face. She steals my breath, but I ignore my desire and focus on her pale, clammy skin and closed eyes. She’s really drunk this time.
There’s vomit on her shirt, and I don’t even know if she has her phone or anything.
Sighing, I carefully grab her skirt and tug it down so it covers her. She mumbles, slapping at me, but her movements are sloppy.
“Okay, baby, let’s get you home,” I murmur as I grab her hands. “You’re going to have to help me.”
It takes a lot of effort, but I manage to get her to her feet, my arms slung around her as she stumbles into me. It’s slow going, but we head around the house with stumbling steps. The fresh air seems to wake her up a bit, but it takes us almost thirty minutes to cover the ten-minute walk to my dorm since it’s closer.
I just make it to the door, leaning her to the side, when she burps. “I’m going to be sick,” she whines.
“Shit, hold on, baby.” I pull out my keys and unlock the door as quickly as I can then drag her inside, where I help her to the bathroom. She collapses on the tile floor before the toilet, huddling around the porcelain. Grabbing a hair tie from the bathroom counter, I slide my hand through her messy locks and knot it on her head before I grab some water and a washcloth.She burps and then dry heaves, and I wipe her neck with the cloth, offering her the water.
“Take a sip,” I instruct as I rub her back. She hiccups and leans back, and I uncap it and hold it to her lips. Her throat works as she drinks, but it spills down her lips and chin, so I put it aside and rub my hand across her soft mouth. For a moment, I remember the way her lips felt against mine before she jerks away and leans into the toilet and heaves, splashing vomit everywhere.
“Shh, it’s okay,” I murmur as I rub her back. I flush it with my free hand, grab some toilet paper, and help wipe her face when she leans back again. “That’s it, get it all up. You’ll feel better.”
She leans back against the wall, her eyes still closed. Grabbing the washcloth, I gently clean her face, clearing away the sweat and vomit. It goes on like this for at least twenty minutes before she pulls her legs under her, one arm draped over the toilet seat.
Her eyes open and narrow when they land on me, and she groans. “Why are you here?”
“To look after you. You drank too much.” I don’t mean to chastise her.
“It isn’t your fucking business,” she slurs.
“Lally, I don’t want to fight?—”
“No? Then why the fuck won’t you leave me alone?” she sneers, sobering up more. Her eyes are fully open now as she peers at me.
“You were in no state to be alone. You shouldn’t get that drunk. What if something happened?—”
“Something already did.” She laughs bitterly, tears flowing from her eyes as she looks away. “I lost my best friend, my brother, because of you.”
I recoil, swallowing hard as I stare at her face. Does she mean it? Does she blame me for Tommy’s death? Is that why shepushed me away? Guilt eats at me every day, but staring at her now, I drown in it.
“I lost him, so don’t you dare tell me what to do or how to feel. I’ll fucking drink until I drop if I want to. I’ll fuck every single person on campus if it means I don’t have to feel this fucking agony anymore, and you? You don’t get a say in it. You’re nobody. You’re just my friend’s sister-in-law.”
“Is that all I am to you?” I ask, hurt radiating through me until I can barely breathe. She’s drunk, but she could still mean everything she is saying.
We only talk when she’s drunk, but it’s all blame and arguments every time.
She hesitates before her eyes harden. “That’s all you ever were. Sometimes I wish we’d never met you, because then maybe Tommy would be alive.” Her words are slurred, but they destroy me all the same. “Stick to your art and finding yourself or whatever, and let me drink and party until I forget how much I hate you and myself and, even worse, how much I hate this fucking world without my best friend in it.”
Her head jerks around, and she spews once more. Despite the agony I feel, I rub her back. She tries to shake me off as she vomits, but I don’t let her. I rub until she stops, pressing her cheek to the cold porcelain, her eyes closed once more.
“It’s all your fault,” she slurs. “He’s dead, and it’s your fault.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Your fault,” she mumbles as she lifts her head, eyeing me as she leans closer. I freeze, feeling sick at the hatred I see in her eyes. She suddenly kisses me, but I don’t kiss her back, and she laughs as she leans her head back once more. “That’s what you want, right? To taste how much I despise you?”
“I’m sorry,” I croak.
“Fuck you, Alice. Fuck you all,” she spits, closing her eyes.
She falls asleep soon after that, and I grab a blanket and drape it around her before leaning against the doorway, my knees to my chest as I watch her. When I’m sure she’s asleep, the tears finally fall, dripping silently down my face.
