𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀 | ✔️

11

CECILIA ADAMS

i wake up in a bed. not. my. bed. it takes me a second to realise that i am not. in. my. bed. WHAT THE FUCK!?

i put the blankets up to see if i'm wearing clothes. THANK FUCK! my clothes are still on. what happened last night?

"cecilia wait!" he calls as im storming off. i ignore him. "cecilia for fuck sake!"

ignore him, cece. ignore him.

"FUCKING ANSWER ME!" he yells as he runs up to me and stands infront of me and i stop.

i stare at the bottle still in his hands. i snatch it from him, open it and take a large gulp as the unfamiliar, disgusting liquid travels down my throat.

i shake my head and squint my eyes as i gag. yuck that was disgusting. he smirks a little.

"stupid bitch." he mutters under his breath.

i scoff and take another gulp.

"woah woah slow down."

i raise an eyebrow and open my wallet. "how much for the bottle?"

he gives a confused look. "what? nothing."

i scoff again. "i will not be in a debt with you." i tell him emphasising the 'you'.

"free of charge."

i throw two $10 bills at him and walk away with the bottle. i know that's more than this piece of shit bottle is worth but i wasnt really thinking.

i just needed to release my thoughts.

that's all i remember. my head is throbbing and i need advil and pancakes.

i get out of the random bed and try to escape through a window. i open the window, try to leave and then bump my head on the window frame as i try to leave.

i hear a chuckle from behind me and i quickly turn around. "the fuck am i doing in your room?!"

"you were drunk. i saved your ass." he tells me as he plants two advil's on the nightstand and a water bottle.

i look at him suspiciously. "you spiked the water didn't you?"

"what? as if."

i roll my eyes. "i don't need your pity, o'connell." i tell him as my head feels like someone is punching it continuously. "you're not my hero. you're no one to me."

his face changes. "fine. remind me to never save you again. i didn't bring you here out of pity, i would've done it for any whore. you were going to go home."

"you don't know anything about my house. or my family, last time i checked my dad stayed when my mom died. that's all i needed." i spat. "i don't have time for this."

"yeah, he stayed and released his grieving out on you!" he half-yells angrily.

"but where were you?!" i yell and calm down instantly. i take the advils aggressively and swallow them down with the water. i walk past him through the door feeling his eyes burn through me.

i turn around. "thanks i guess." i whisper it quietly and walk past him to his front door.

"i can't let you go home, cecilia." he says walking me to the door.

"home is fine. i'd prefer to handle my dad, than you."

"you need to talk to someone." he offers.

"talk to someone my ass."

"i'm going to call the cops."

i turn around quickly and grip my hand around his neck in an act of choking him but not really. just for him to get my attention.

"stay out of it." i tell him coldly pausing i between each word. "stay out of my life. i don't need your guidance."

***

"hey dad, sorry i didn't come home last night i-" im happily greeted with a bottle cap thrown at my head. good throw i guess.

i hold my head in pain. great. i'm still hungover so it hurt more. "sorry." i apologise.

"where were you?!"

"out." i answer bluntly as i grab a cleaning cloth to clean spilt whiskey. "i'm sorry, it won't happen again."

i lied. it will happen again, just not like how it happened last night. it was peaceful. i didn't wake up in the middle of the night to yelling or ringing sounds of glass shattering. it was nice, i guess.

samuel o'connell does not need an explanation to anything. he only brought me to his house to be labelled as a 'hero'.

samuel o'connell is far from a hero i'll tell you that much.

"it better not." he comments as he throws an empty bottle of beer on the floor of the living room. "clean that up would you."

i nod and continue cleaning my fathers mess.

"i'm going out today and i'll probably stay out. don't come find me." he tells me as he's almost out the door. wasn't planning on looking for him anyway.

"okay."

"when i be back, the house better be spotless."

"okay."

"don't okay me!" he snaps getting frustrated.

"sorry."

"kill yourself." he mutters and leaves.

damn. that hurt. he's said that to me multiple times and i've never gotten used to it. i've never gotten used to any of it. with mom gone it seems like life has just been slapping me in the face. literally.

all i know is today is going to be a boring day of studying and reading and sleeping.