𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒚

Seven

𝚃𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚋𝚋'𝚜 𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚎

𝟷𝟹 𝚁𝚎𝚞𝚡 𝙻𝚗, 𝚀𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚘, 𝚅𝙰

𝙵𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟷𝟼, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸

𝟷𝟷:𝟹𝟺 𝙿.𝙼.

Tillie woke abruptly from her sleep with a sharp inhale. The urge to go to the liquor cabinet was intense, as if a rope was tugging her there, but she knew she shouldn't. She stood up and paced the floors by her bed, tugging on her hair from the roots. 

"No, Tillie. No, you can't, this isn't healthy," tears threatened to escape from her eyes. She knew that she should either call Spencer or Adam, but she couldn't seem to find the motivation to find her cell. "Not tonight, you can make it one night without a drink."

She continued arguing with herself, while thirteen minutes away, Spencer just arrived at his own apartment. 

"You can do it, tonight's the night," she muttered to herself over and over. Looking up and walking into her kitchen, her eyes avoiding that one cabinet that held her ABSOLUT, passing to the sink. 

Hastily, and almost violently, she filled a glass with tap, chugging it, trying to take her mind off of the vodka. She opened the window, letting a chilly breeze float in the stuffy house. Closing her eyes, and taking in deep breaths, tranquility slowly washed over her. 

The loud, obnoxious ringing from her phone startled her, making her jump into the air. 

"Shit," she whispered placing a hand over her heaving chest, trying to calm her heart rate. The familiar number flashed across the screen of her phone on the island in her kitchen. Picking it up and hitting the accept button, she answered the call. 

"What do you want, Dad?" She sighed. 

No, she hadn't gotten any closer to making the decision to cut ties with him. It wasn't something she could do just like that. 

"Cut the attitude," His  southern accent scolded. "I taught you to be more respectful. Didn't I?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's better," he seemed more pleased with this response. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure of talking to you, Dad?" Her words were sickly sweet, overcompensating for her annoyance.

"I just wish you would try and stay in contact with me. After you moved from the house and got that fancy job with the plant people, you haven't came in visited me in a while," He took a drag from what she only assumed was a cigarette. 

"Do you mean give you money for whatever the hell you-" 

"I don't need your money!" He shouted, the volume making her wince, pulling the phone from her ear a bit. "No, I just miss my daughter, but apparently, she's just like her mother. Selfish and conceited and only caring about herself." Tillie bit her lip. The guilt rose up to her cheeks, making them red with embarrassment. 

"I'm sorry, Dad, I'll try to be better about seeing you more often."

"Are you really sorry, or are you just saying that, like you said that the last couple times?"

"I'm free tomorrow, maybe we can catch up," she replied. Forgetting everything that Adam and her had been working on in the past few months, she went straight back to her self destructive behavior, putting herself back into the clutches of her abusive father. "I'll pick you up and we can go to lunch." 

"There's my daughter, I had wondered where she went." And a sharp beep ended the call. 

What the hell was she doing to herself? Right back to square one.

She inhaled, closing her eyes and tossing her phone back on the counter. Moving to the liquor cabinet, she grabbed a bottle of clear liquid. 

"Fuck it."