Page 20 of Perfect Tragedy
“I told him to stop,” I whisper. “Why can’t I move? What’s wrong with me?”
He doesn’t say a word, but I realize he’s straightening my shirt and my pants, then picks me up in his arms.
He carries me out of the room, through the house, and outside, all the while tears continue to fall. I feel stupid, confused and embarrassed. How did this get out of control so fast?
I hear the familiar beep of his truck as he disarms it and he somehow manages to open the door and place me inside.
“I’ll be right back.”
Fear grips me, and I manage to grab his arm, “Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not,” I can see his face clearly in front of mine. His eyes are soft, familiar, full of worry and… something, “Give me one second.”
He shuts the door. I hear his steps disappear, but it doesn’t seem like he’s gone long. I hear voices, it sounds like arguing because I hear anger. I can make out the murmur of Blake’s voice, but nothing clearly. Soon, he’s back in the truck.
“Here,” he has a bottle of water to my lips. “Drink some of this.” I comply. When I’m finished, he places the cap back on the bottle. He doesn’t start the car and I roll my head toward him. He’s sitting still, his breaths coming harshly. His hands grip the steering wheel and his head is bowed.
“Blake?”
“I just need a minute,” he murmurs. “God, Sienna, if I had been just a couple minutes longer…”
Shivers go up and down my spine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I feel horrible and feel like my words are coming out in slurs.
I know they made sense when he tells me, “Do not apologize. This isn’t your fault.”
“I drank too much.”
“Yes, but I also think Todd put something in your drink.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yeah, you drank a lot, but not so much that you should barely be able to move.”
Just the thought of drinking now makes me want to be sick.
He finally starts the truck and begins to drive in silence. It takes me a moment before I freak out, cry, and begin to stutter, “I-I-I c-can’t go home. M-m-mom and dad - spending night V-Vanessa.”
He knows what I’m saying.
“We are going to my house. Mom is working. I’ll get you home tomorrow. Now just relax if you can.”
When we get to his house, he turns off the truck and comes to my side. He helps me out of the truck and I try to pull away. His arm around me, his care and concern is making me feel things I know I shouldn’t even in my pathetic state. He’s just being kind - like a brother -alwayslike a brother.
“I’m fine. I can walk now. I think the water helped.”
“No, I’m helping.”
“Actually, maybe you should just take me home. I-I’ll come up with some excuse. You don’t have to take care of me. Thank you for your help but-”
“Sienna, stop. You’re drunk, maybe drugged, I’ve got you.”
“Really, I’m-”
That’s as far as I get before projectile vomit gushes without warning. All over Blake’s shoes. All over the ground and all over myself. I feel much too horrible to feel embarrassed.
Without a word he helps me inside, takes me straight to the bathroom connected to his bedroom and eases me down to the toilet. He spends the rest of the evening holding my hair back, pressing cold compresses to the back of my neck, giving me sips of water. He alternates between whispering soothing words of comfort one moment, then promises to kick Todd’s ass and make him pay for what he did the next.
Eventually, I begin to feel better. Blake gives me a t-shirt of his to change into and leaves the bathroom while I peel my soiled clothes off of my body. Pulling the shirt over my head, I can’t help but draw the fabric to my nose and inhale his scent. Opening the door, I stand there a moment, feeling awkward. Blake’s immediately at my side, “Are you okay?”
