Walking around to the front, my confidence subsided to fear.
I was moving too fast for my own good with Willow. Had she been expecting things to all of a sudden sprout between us? I wasn't sure, and neither anything I did.
With even the thought of Rachel my mind goes completely bitter. Not only towards her but letting someone have that much power over my feelings again.
I wanted to stop this. Sounding weak and vulnerable wasn't me, nor was it going to help the problem at hand. A swig of burning sensation down my throat always helped.
The sun still hid behind the clouds, making hard to see if it was mid day or not. It kind of reminded me of myself. Hiding away but still exposed in some sense.
Taking a trip on the sidewalk made me realize on how worried Nonna must've been. Passing the flower pots every person had out of their window, a red Camaro grabbed my attention.
Inside, I noticed a bottle of whiskey in the cup holder. Looks like somone needs to handle their convulsions.
Way to make that fair, hypocrite.
A rage built up inside of me, requesting me to pull the handle and fuck all of the risks.
Giving in, the door was shockingly unlocked and the smell of alcohol reigned my senses. It seemed I had smelled the same waft of alcohol before. But where?
Before someone got suspicious, the bottle's in my hand in mere seconds. The glass of crown royal was not familiar in my hold. Vodka was more of my preference.
Also noticing a pack of cigarettes on the passenger side with a lighter on the dash. This was wrong, I knew, but the day's events were going to keep getting carzier. This was much needed.
Both the pack of smokes and lighter were in my pocket. Somehow, the mission was for Nonna not to see the beverage at all.
Picturing my springy matress triggered such restlessness. Hating that I had to face my worried grandmother did not help in the slightest.
The crown royal was incredibly hard to hide. Obnoxiously round and half empty to my dissatisfaction.
Finally my plan surfaced from my foggy mind. It seemed best to climb through my window and avoid any confrontation for the time being.
Slowly heading to our first floor apartment, loud footsteps stomped down the concrete steps quickly. Softer feet followed behind as well.
By the time I heard this I was near the dark green door filled with fear at Nonna's punishment on the way to the window, crown royal in hand.
"Al please, you have to understand! She's not my child, I have no baggage. Please!" The woman pleaded and sounded a lot like, Lydia?
A deep rugged voice replied, "Damn you woman, let me go! I don't have time for this!"
It had to be about Willow, there's no way that wasn't the voice of that hateful tramp. My attention went toward the low tone, her uncle maybe?
Couldn't be, the way he talked so careless about a teenager. Very doubtful, she'd be his niece.
Pitiful sobbing bounced off of the walls when a car door slammed and the start of an engine.
Suddenly Lydia retreated to a black Range Rover, from my line of vision, that contained the mystery man I had yet to see. She slammed her weak fists on the trunk as the vehicle backed out. The outfit she wore was slightly revealing. A sparkly red evening gown that appeared crinkled and the strap of it sliding off of her shoulder. Her balance was slightly off and the dress made sure to leave attention on her rack for interested eyes. Hair in a frazzled state and only one heel on her left foot. In other words, Lydia looked a mess.
Tears streamed the eyes of a pained woman who deserved it in my opinion.
Tires screeched, leaving Lydia behind and heartbroken. Her hands covered the pain stricken face she wore, screaming out profanities to the man that left.
Begrudgingly with a teary eyes and clumped mascara face, she dragged her feet against the pavement to the apartment Willow had gone to. The red lipstick was smudged and resembled a clown who failed at putting on face paint.
The closer she had gotten, the more I backed away. Although, I was captivated by the sight in front of me. Karma's a bitch, isn't it?
All of that vanished quickly. Cold, menacing hazel eyes found my dark brown ones. Fear grasped my spine while the hairs on the nape of my neck stood completely up. I didn't want her to intimidate me but that was out of my hands.
Sounds of dragging feet entered my ears once again while the same ominous eyes stared me down. Luckily, the whiskey was behind me and out of sight.
Stepping back to get away, she spoke, "Stay away from Willow boy."
A laced threat very evident, yet the words were completely unexpected. Surely she didn't mean the statement. Willow seemed moreso of a burden to her. Obviously she said it, believing it'd get to me. Hell no.
I escaped before any other words were exchanged. Heading to the window in a hurry. My mind didn't pay the skank any mind. She had no right to give me threats when it came to what I witnessed nights before.
Still, sleep burdened over me like a dark obnoxious cloud. Carefully walking to my window with the dewy bothersome grass rubbing against my ankles due to low cut cheap shoes.
Cold glass met me and both hands. Putting the Crown Royal down, I forcibly tried harder to move the window upward but it wouldn't budge.
Nonna locked it.
I wanted to break the damn thing. All I could do was stare at the whiskey. Opening it and immediately taking in large gulps, the contents burned my throat. Slowly it coursed through me, doing what I so desperately wanted it to do.
It alleviated pain and frustration, the anxiety rolled off of my shoulders in waves. Next thing I know, the bottle was empty. Then, I'm barely awake. Throwing it across the yard, my hands reached for the ledge of the only way into our apartment.
Pants wet from the grass, a headache grew and the pounding got worse with every wicked movement. Sleep was needed at that point, almost noon.
My head tried to wrap around everything but to no avail refused any thoughts on what else to do. It hurt knowing that Nonna most likely worried all night. Especially when her only grandson fucked up every situation he got in.
Either way, out of all the things I fear, it'd be my grandmother's wrath the most. Everything aside—I had to face it. Shit.