11:49 PM
Hanna arrived home clutching a half empty bottle of vodka, big fat tears streaming down her face.
She could barely keep her emotions in check when she fell to the floor. She took a swig from the bottle, drinking herself into oblivion.
Her heart broken completely, she took her cellphone out and opened Facebook. She chewed her bottom lip, unsure whether or not she should do it; however, pushing those feelings of doubt aside, she went to the freedom wall page and created a draft of the post, anyways.
Her stomach dropped then, vomit pushing its way up. She couldn't tell if it was because of drinking way too much or something deeper—perhaps she was too disgusted with herself, for even thinking about posting something of that caliber on the freedom wall page.
In hindsight, it also could've been the pregnancy.
"Hanna?"
At the sudden voice, she cried harder because even without looking up, she knew who it was—and it pained her to have him see her like this. Still, she hesitantly looked to the door and saw none other than Oliver standing there.
"Are you alright?" He quickly rushed to Hanna's aid.
"Oli, I'm in trouble," she wept, her blue eyes bloodshot, "big trouble."
Wordlessly, Oliver held her then, in such a comforting way that Hanna felt a portion of her troubles melt away—he held her so tenderly that the gesture seemed to say that she could tell him anything.
The two stayed on the cold floor still as Hanna said quietly but clearly, "I'm pregnant, and the dad wants nothing to do with me or the baby."
Oliver's eyes instantly widened, his mouth agape—but at the next moment, he quickly snatched the vodka bottle away from Hanna's grasp, his eyes seemingly full of fury.
"Pregnant women shouldn't drink."
Hanna glared at Oliver, her eyes overflowing with new, unshed tears. "I can't do this, Oli," she cried hysterically. "I can't—I really can't—"
"Han—I'll be here," he said slowly, as though emphasizing his point, as though making sure it was properly drilled into Hanna's drunk brain, "every step of the way."
Hearing Oliver's comforting words, all thoughts of Archer was immediately flushed out, and at that, she shut off her phone (but not before saving the post as a draft for a rainy day) then her eyes, as the warning signs of a hangover began to settle in.
1:14 AM
Trevor left early.
He had left early because he could no longer stand the dynamic between Archer and Morgan. He didn't want to see the suggestive looks the two were giving each other; he didn't want to know what they were giggling about whenever they sneaked off to a corner of the room. He was sick of being left out and pretending to be okay with Archer when clearly their friendship was on life support.
Trevor rolled around in bed, and his hand accidentally hit the person lying next to him, asleep.
This ended his drunken stupor, his eyes fluttering open then widening at the realization that he had just slept with someone.
YOU ARE READING
Blinded by Limerence
Teen Fiction"You, uh, plan to go out like that?" Furrowing my eyebrows, I cast my gaze downwards, and that's when I remembered I had changed into pajamas after my date. My face heated up - it was embarrassing to unintentionally let Trevor see my pajama set that...
