Conceited [H.S.]

SEVENTY-ONE

Chapter Songs:

Slip Away by Luke Hemmings

Control by Zoe Wees

...

ANDREA WILSON

My eyes squint shut as I walk out the automatic doors of the hospital. The sun is now starting to rise after going into my meeting in the early hours of the morning, nearly the middle of the night.

I walk out into the peaceful, quiet parking lot, close my eyes, and take a much-needed breath of fresh air. The soft sound of the birds beginning to chirp, combined with the sunrise, begins to bring me back to semi-decent head space.

Every muscle in my body is begging me to lie down for a few hours. Maybe even a day at this point with how much has happened in the past twenty-four hours. I'm in desperate need of a quiet and safe environment, uninterrupted sleep, and an entire bottle of eye drops.

I'm surprised my eyes aren't swollen shut with how much I've cried.

That was one of the most mentally challenging meetings I have ever attended.

On a good day, I don't want to go. The only reason I walk into that fucking room is that I need to stay sober. That doesn't mean I always want to. Life seems to come with fewer responsibilities when I'm not sober.

Of course, that means I end up getting treated like a child. Sometimes it's worth it. Well, most of the time.

I miss that.

When I finally open my eyes, blinking a few times while attempting to get used to the bright sunlight. I don't even want to know what time it is.

I have no idea if Nate even stayed for the entire meeting length, mainly since I technically stayed for one and a half meetings. I arrived in the middle of one and stayed for the one after. Figured it was better than making a run for it away from Nate.

After a lazy effort of searching, I finally notice his car parked facing away from the street.

It warms my heart knowing he stayed. He easily could have gone home.

I walk over to the passenger side and try to open the door quietly when I see him peacefully sleeping in the driver's seat. Now I feel even worse for putting him through this.

The second I open the door, he jolts awake quickly and attempts to look as if he wasn't just asleep.

"Hey," he mumbles with a tired voice, "did your meeting go okay?"

I go with a nod as my response rather than dumping how it actually went on him. Plus, if I were to tell him I thought about sneaking out of it at least ten times, he'd probably get worried.

"I, uh," he stops to clear his throat and rubs his eyes, "I let Harry know what happened. Mostly the basics, and that you were in a meeting, but he wants to talk to you."

I bring my hand up to rub against my nose, desperately wanting the lingering itch it's been feeling for the past few hours to go away.

It isn't that I'm dreading this phone call with Harry. His voice is the one I've been dying to hear. I'm just worried that he'll be upset that I wasn't the one to tell him what happened.

Luke has managed to cause plenty of pain in my life, whether emotionally, mentally, or physically, but this was different. He knew precisely how to scar me permanently. Everything he broke or ruined seemed planned with the perfect amount of spite to make it sting even more.