Vincent

Edge of Seventeen

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A/N: Y'all about to hate Alexis (and most likely me too) in about two minutes but happy reading:

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My eyes fluttered open, trying to make out the shape. I had to blink a few times as the person crouched, their hand going to my shoulder while the other grabbed the bottle. "Alexis?" They shook my shoulder. "Doll, you shouldn't have drunk this much- look at me." They shook me again.

A groan left my lips. I closed one try, using one to try and focus. "Vince?" I mumbled.

He held up the bottle. "Lex, I don't even drink this much, this is a strong blend." I just sniffled, bringing up my hand to rub my eyes. He grabbed my hand to stop me. "You're smearing. Let me take you upstairs, I'll take care of you, Alexis," he gently said, leaving for a moment. When he came back, the bottle was gone. "Come here," he sighed, picking my limp body up in his arms. I've only gotten drunk one other time. It was at a party. I wasn't this depressed. I was partying.  "Keep your eyes open, Lex," he added, walking up the stairs.

"He cheated on me," I whispered. He glanced down at me, a small frown on his lips. He didn't say anything, just made his way into my room and then my bathroom. He carefully set me down and grabbed my toothbrush, handing it to me. I grumbled before brushing my teeth, Vincent holding my hair back. I was so tired and sad. "Do you have makeup wipes?" he asked me and I nodded, bending over the bathroom counter to put my head in my hands. "Come here," he said as he gently grabbed my chin, wiping away my makeup.

He got frustrated halfway through and grabbed my hips to sit me on top of the counter. I just wanted to sob. Tears kept leaking out of my eyes. Vincent kept shushing me, rubbing my thighs to make me feel better as he grabbed my moisturizer, rubbing it onto my face. He picked me back up, taking me to my bed. "Get undressed," he told me as he walked away but I just flopped back down on bed, some hair flying over my face.

I just wanted a hug and someone to talk to. I wanted my dad to support me like he did when I was seven. He loved me then. He loved Little Alexis. I bet he thought I was still worthy to be supported. I wasn't a bitch then. I was just his little girl. The little Princess that he adored and always complimented because he loved her.

My shoulders shook. I heard Vincent sigh as he came back over. "Alexis, ti ho detto di spogliarti," he muttered.

"English," I whispered as his hands went to my pants to take them off. "Your Italian confuses me," I whined. My head hurt too much to process anything.

Vincent just sighed, moving to take off my shirt and bra. I cracked one eye open, hoping he'd at least stare at my chest if not grab my breasts but he didn't do anything. He just slipped a shirt on me. My lips frowned, a small sob left my lips.

He didn't want to take advantage of my drunken state and feel me up? I couldn't do anything if he did. Rape me and waste me and hate me like Nirvana. Kiss me and feel my chest and ignore me the next day and then tell that whore you love her. Stick and burn with me. Hurt me. I don't care, as long as it involves me and him.

Was there something wrong with me? Was I not worthy of his sins?

If I was sober, I would never think this way. If I was happy, I would never think like this.

But I wasn't sober right now. I wasn't happy.

They say drunk words are sober thoughts but I never thought that was true. I had the worst headache. My thoughts were all tangled. I guess drunk words could be sober thoughts but drunk thoughts were definitely not sober words.