This Love ✔️

6: This House

This House

When I'm finally done Bash is still passed out in the back seat of my car. Clueless of what to do I walk across the street to the gas station in hopes by the time I get back I will have an idea.

Ten minutes later I come back with a new air freshener for my car, a bottle of water and crackers for when Bash wakes up because apparently I'm stuck babysitting him for the night, and a small disposable toothbrush since I'm sure he won't like the taste of puke in his mouth.

I've never been drunk before. The first time I've actually drank alcohol that wasn't champagne for New Years with my parents was last night when Bash offered me his beer. None the less from the shows I've seen and from my next door neighbor Ms. Green, I would assume this is what you need for when you wake up.

To my somewhat happy surprise I see Bash sitting up in the back seat as I walk by. I get into the drivers side and turn to see him still kind of out of it.

The blood on his face is dry now making it look black and his eyes are barley open. Not to mention his breath stinks.

"Here have this." I hand him the bottle of water. He takes it hesitantly, looking at me weirdly.

"Why am I in your car? And where are we?" He says unscrewing the bottle and lifting it to his lips.

"Well I was going to take you wherever you wanted but then you passed out and we're at a car wash."

"Why?" He asks setting down the half full bottle.

"Here's some crackers and a toothbrush if you want it." When he doesn't grab the bag that contains it I throw it beside him on the seat. "We're at a car wash because you puked all over my hood but I have a feeling you didn't know that." I say slowly.

"I puked on your car?" He asks shocked.

I nod my head in confirmation and wait until he digs through the bag from the gas station. He pulls out a bag of salty crackers while I hang the new air freshener I pulled out early around my rear view mirror.

I was expecting him to say sorry at least but I'm not surprised after I've seen that he doesn't have manners all the time.

"So where to?" I ask him after moments of silence. Well not really silence, I turned on the radio and he chomped noisily on the food.

"Eastern street in West Peak." He mumbles with a mouth full of food.

I pull out of the car wash and head down to the bad neighbor-hood. I've lived here my whole life to know that West Peak is where the people who worked two jobs just to buy drugs lived. Even a few kids from my school live there. They are hardly at school and when they are they get kicked out for being high or wasted.

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"This is it." Bash speaks up for the first time.

I slow to a park in front of a worn down town home. In the yard is a yellow and red bicycle obviously owned by a little kid. The porch steps are split in some places and the light on the wall is smashed. If the dead grass or the broken toys on the lawn doesn't say something then the broken door definitely does. It's torn off its top hinges so it's hanging diagonally to the ground. I would not feel safe sleeping in that house at all.

Screaming starts from inside the house. It sounds like a man and a woman. I can't tell what their saying but I can hear glass breaking inside. It sounds like a war zone in there.

Bash stops on his way out of the car. His feet are on the sidewalk, the door wide open, but he's just sitting there staring at the house. His home I assume.

"Hey Bash?" I call to him looking at him through the rear view mirror.

He is shaken out of his trance to look towards me. "Yeah?" We make eye contact in the mirror.

"You live here?" I say quietly.

He looks sullen for a little bit before he diverts his eyes casting them downward. "Yeah." He says just above a whisper.

I've never seen domestic violence or been anywhere near it but my heart breaks for people who are in it. And from what I can still hear coming from the house Bash is in it.

I rummage through my purse to find an unused napkin and a pen that hardly works. Quickly I scribble down some numbers while saying, "This isn't my place to say anything but if you... if you need anything like a place to stay or just someone you need to talk to you can call this number. We have an extra room ever since my sister moved out and I'm a really good listener, I'd like to believe."

I hand him the folded up napkin with my name and number written on it. He takes it hesitantly while looking at me in the strangest way. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course. Remember anytime okay? I promise I won't be bothered by it." I give him my best smile.

He looks at me one last time before he suddenly gets out of the car and slams the door behind him. He walks up the pathway without a word but stops mid-way to look at me.

"You can go now. Leave." He says with eyes blazing with anger.

Maybe that wasn't the best idea to try to reach out to him. It doesn't always work when people try to help.

I give him one last look, silently praying to God to keep him safe. No one deserves what he's walking into.

Then I'm driving down the barren street leaving him there. As I'm about to turn the corner I let myself look back at him through my mirror. He's standing there looking down at the folded up napkin then to the house. Then finally to me.