The Shy One

Chapter 15

I had never seen him cry until this day. His normally perfect hair was spread about his hair in an extremely messy way. His eyes were red and puffy, tears spilling down his soft cheeks.

"I'm sorry little one... Daddy just needs..." he started crying again and I stared at him, slowly driving out of littlespace. 

I sat next to him and wrapped my arms around his broad frame. His parents were always picture-perfect around me. He never told me what his dad did inside. What his mom did back. How their dynamic was so...imperfect.

His arms migrated across my back and closed around me, holding me as tight as he could.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing my cheek. I used the bottom of the Tshirt I was wearing to wipe the tears off of his cheeks, kissing his lips gently.

"You never have to say you're sorry,"

************

It was three AM when I heard the crash. I sat straight up and looked around. It was coming from the kitchen.

I got up and ran down the halls, entering the kitchen with a start. My mom was there, on the floor, her hands cut open, shattered plates all over the floor. Her breathing was rapid but inconsistent. 

She looked at me and opened her mouth, ready to spit more disgusting words at me. The scent of liquor reeked off of her broken looking frame. 

I walked past her to the pantry and grabbed the small broom I kept there, silently starting to sweep up the shards of the broken dishes. 

"I can do it myself. Give me that," she tried to stand, but tripped and grabbed the counter with a wince. I dropped the broom and helped her up. Her hands left blood on the spotless countertops.

"Come on, don't be stubborn. Go to your room. I'll grab some gauze other stuff," I got her started in the direction of her room. She cursed under her breath as she drunkenly staggered down the hall. I walked around the sharp mess on the floor and made my way to the bathroom. She never kept medical supplies in her bathroom because she was never home.

I grabbed some supplies from my bathroom and walked back through the maze of glass, turning and going to my mom's room. She was in the bathroom on the floor, glaring at her bloodied hands. I wasn't sure she knew how to take care of them.

Silently I ran some warm water in the sink and helped her up, sitting her on the closed toilet before starting to clean her hands. She might be able to type, but she wouldn't be writing things down for a while. 

Once her hands were clean I wrapped them in pristine, white gauze, securing them with some medical tape.

"Get out," she grumbled.

I sighed and grabbed my supplies, walking out the door before turning back and saying, "you're welcome".

I walked back to the kitchen and finished sweeping up the glass before wiping the bloodstains off the counter and staggering tiredly down the hallway.

I crawled into my bed and hugged Bubs to my chest.

What the Hell just happened...?

I tossed and turned for a while before giving up on sleep and sitting up. I had to be up in about three and a half hours from now, but I couldn't fall back to sleep.

"What happened?" I whispered, staring at the wall. This was different. This had never happened before. She was always composed. Proper, and had more sass than ass. But drunk? Staggering down the hall? Never...