Chapter 16
Donavan
If admitting to a problem, or a weakness in my case, is the first step then I figure facing it and being able to walk away from it would be the second step.
As I watch her once again swaying to the music, I don’t feel any closer to getting over this shit than I did when I was hundreds of miles away.
Unlike the last time I was here, she’s drinking heavily. Her arms are heavy, the movement of her body to the music seeming forced more now than ever. From what I’m watching, it’s clear she doesn’t want to be here, so it makes no sense why she is.
Even the guys around with their eyes on her don’t approach and it makes me wonder what she’s done in my absence to cause them to act that way.
Several girls pass by, looking at her with disgust, shaking their heads at the sight of her, before whispering god knows what to their friends.
She’s worse than a fucking mess, and her spiral seems to now be circling the drain. I don’t notice the guy that she was with that first night I was sent to protect her and it makes me realize I didn’t see him the last two times either.
I don’t exactly have time to fucking worry about some other guy right now because as each minute ticks by, she seems less and less capable of even standing on her fucking feet.
As much as I want to intervene, I don’t. It’s not my place. Who would step in if I weren’t here? Why doesn’t she have friends? Where the hell is that roommate of hers I’ve seen around before?
It’s been months since I was here. This seems to be the semester opening party, but tonight doesn’t seem like a celebration to her.
Makeup streaks down her face with random tears, making me wonder what has happened to her in my absence.
How many nights has she spent acting this way? How did she spend her summer?
The party carries on, getting louder and louder. She only stops dancing to grab another drink.
I watch as the guy manning the keg shakes his head, looking at her with such disgust you’d think he was looking at a dirty homeless person encroaching on his space rather than a drunken college girl.
She walks away after spitting cuss words at him, but she doesn’t return to the dance floor. People move out of her way, choosing to talk shit about her as she passes rather than offer a helping hand.
I jolt, fighting the urge to rush to her, when she trips at the bottom of the steps.
A group of guys laugh harder as she struggles to stand rather than helping her.
My need to follow her as she stumbles away is the only thing that keeps them from dying tonight.
The sight of blood on her skinned knees is nearly enough to make me take their heads off, and I don’t mean that in a metaphorical sense either.
She’s mumbling to herself, more unaware of her surroundings than I’ve ever seen before. She needs to be taught a lesson, but honestly, she’s past the point of heeding any sort of warning as drunk as she is. Any energy on that front would be a waste tonight.
It doesn’t stop me from moving in front of her and blocking her path.
“Move, motherfucker,” she grumbles as she’s forced to a stop. She reaches her arm out in an effort to shove me away, but she’s got no real strength behind it.
Her affect remains flat when she looks up at me. Even when it dawns on her who I am, she can’t seem to muster any emotion other than irritation. She isn’t happy to see me, and that makes my heart clench.
“Where the fuck have you been?” she growls, her ineffective fists swatting at my chest.
The I miss you is gone, and I find myself aching to hear it a third time.
Maybe this is my punishment for staying away for so long and trying to forget about her.
When she tries to step around me, I clamp her chin in between my fingers and get in her face.
“You need to start acting your age instead of like a fucking toddler whose toy got taken away.”
“I’m not—”
Her face screws up, and I only have a second to step away before she gets sick. I only grab a hold of her to keep her from face-planting on the sidewalk because I feel obligated to get her home. I’d prefer to do that without her being covered in puke.
I look away, my nose scrunching up at the scent of all the alcohol making a reappearance. It’s absolutely disgusting. I’d rather deal with blood than vomit any damn day of the week.
I’m annoyed beyond fucking words by the time she’s done heaving. I spend probably a little too much time trying to convince myself that dragging her back to my motel room and showing her exactly what happens to careless women would be a terrible idea.
This has to be the last time I come here.
I’m not responsible for her choices any more than she’s responsible for mine.
If anything, I think I’m just making it worse for her.
I’m not her fucking savior and we owe each other nothing, but she still seems to hold some sort of expectations where I’m concerned.
“Enough,” I spit as I grab her arm again and start pulling her toward her dorm building.
I may be walking away for the final time tonight, but I’ll be damned if I leave her standing in the middle of nowhere.
“Let go of me,” she growls, her attempt to jerk away from me ineffectual.
She fights me all the way there, growling and snarling like a deranged animal. People look at us as they walk past but even as aggressive as it looks, and as unhappy as she is to have me pulling her along, no one steps in.
That’s what’s wrong with the entire fucking world these days.
People are so worried about offending the wrong person, they just gape and stare rather than offer a helping hand.
One guy literally walks past holding his phone out in front of him, recording a goddamned video for social media with us in the background.
“Your generation sucks,” I mutter, refusing to believe that I’m also a part of any of this shit.
I wasn’t raised this way. Yeah, I’ve done my fair share of turning a blind eye, but the way these college kids act is beyond fucking words.
“You suck,” she hisses, her feet getting tangled together somehow. I manage to stop her once again before she hits the ground.
My sigh is more of an irritated rush of breath than anything else.
I pull her closer to her dorm, reminding myself that getting pissed is ignorant because all emotions are wasted.
The fact that she even has that level of power over me pisses me off and that just makes this entire night one giant fucking circle of mistakes… which I hate.
“I’m tired,” she complains, her steps growing shorter, her eyelids heavier.
“Jesus, fuck,” I grumble, catching her under her arms before she can pass out.
The knowledge that she never would’ve made it on her own makes me raving mad.
There’s no way that she only acts this way when I’m in town. This has to be routine for her at this point. How many times has she acted irresponsible that every time I come to town she’s putting herself in danger?
I lift her, slinging her over my fucking shoulder and muttering a warning about puking down my back as if she isn’t fucking passed out and dead weight. From watching her enter this building more than once, I type in the passcode, tugging the heavy door open when the lock deactivates.
“Sir,” the girl at the desk snaps at me when I go to walk past.
“Let me guess?” I snarl. “I can’t be in here this late.”
Her lips form a flat line, irritated she didn’t get the chance to deliver the line herself.
“You want to carry her to her fucking room?”
She doesn’t say a thing.
“Exactly,” I growl when she sits back down behind the desk.
The stairs are no harder than they’ve usually been because she doesn’t weigh much of anything. She’s even more gaunt tonight than she has been in the past. It makes me wonder what the fuck Ayla has been doing with her life because it certainly isn’t fucking watching over her goddamned sister.
“Put me down,” she complains when I take no care in preventing the jostling as I climb up to her room.
“Where’s your key?” I growl, knowing the doors lock instantly when they close, much like most hotel room doors do.
“Lost it.”
I grip her thigh harder than I probably should, but the thought of someone out there possibly having that kind of access to her makes my vision turn red.
I bang my fist on the door, deciding I may just have to kick the motherfucker in, but then it opens.
I shove against it, earning a screech from the girl inside.
“Really?” she snaps, backing away. “Again?”
“The fuck do you mean again?” I ask. She’s not the same girl she shared a room with last semester, but from the frown on her face, this still seems to be Alani’s room.
She snaps her jaw closed, but one glance at the wiggling girl on my shoulder and she opens her mouth to speak.
“This happens all the time, some random guy carrying her home. I’ve reported her to the dean, and it looks like I’ll be doing it again tomorrow.”
“Shut the fuck up, Della,” Alani snaps, lifting her head only a few inches off my back. “Don’t listen to her. She’s a fucking liar. She’s just mad because the guy she likes hit on me last week.”
Della shakes her head, but she doesn’t refute what Alani is saying.
I don’t know who to believe, but none of this is my fucking problem anymore. Hell, it never was my problem in the first place.
I pull her over my shoulder, dropping her to her bed like a sack of horse feed, but instead of walking away immediately, I inch closer, pinning her face between my fingers. I lean in close so there’s no room for misinterpretation.
“I miss—”
I squeeze harder, forcing her to shut up. “You need to get your shit together.”
Tears form in the corners of her eyes, but I force myself to ignore them. I can’t keep getting tangled up in her shit.
“This will be the last time I rescue you. The next guy who snatches you up in the dark will hurt you.”
She swallows, her eyelids lowering before she jerks her face out of my grip.
“Fuck you, Donavan.”
I leave her, walking out of her room, not even bothering to close the door behind me. I’ve wasted too much time on her, and I don’t even understand why I’ve done it.
She means nothing to me.
Just like everyone else walking this stupid fucking planet.