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6

And I'm the one to blame, ain't no loving me — No Love by August Alsina ft. Nicki Minaj

***

What he had expected had come true, and what he hadn't had too. And while he said you had to expect things you never really wanted to, it was said that it was a possibility he wanted what he didn't expect to happen, happen. More or less. Did that happen to make any sense?

She hadn't returned till the next morning, 3:27 a.m. to be more specific. And while you would expect her to be drunk and the majority of her brain cells dead, she wasn't. She didn't seem to look like she had been crying either. Nothing about her mentally didn't seem different. Actually nothing was different. Well, except what he saw physically.

Oddly, the first thing he noticed was her hair. It was cropped short to her shoulders. He liked it, don't get him wrong, but he loved her long ginger hair. He was quite grateful that she at least didn't dye it. But God knows what else she's changed.

The next thing, she was actually sober which struck as quite surprising. That should have been a good thing, but in that moment he wished, more than anything, for her to be drunk or high. It would have been much more tolerable considering the fact she looked like she just left a fight with a lion...or elephant.

Blood was leaking from her mouth, nose and head. Her hair looked as though she asked a raccoon to comb it, and her clothes seemed as though she tried to punch a design into it with an oversized hole-puncher. As for her shoes, God knows what that pink stain is and how she managed to get the entire front of one of her shoes off. You would think she was playing with deranged people who spent their time in caves playing with dead dogs.

She looked mental walking through the door. Worry immediately occupied every corner of his mind as he stood up. He shouldn't be worried about her, or care for her as much as he did. He should have left her in pain, just to feel how he felt. But he didn't. She really didn't want to hurt him, but past experiences left her with that. Loving him would be too much for her. It was hard to actually acknowledge the fact that she is in love with him. And it's not just when you say "I love you", it's "I'm in love with you". She just isn't aware of it.

She didn't say anything as he watched her every movement. She took her shoes off, slowly, as if the simple action was causing her a hefty amount of pain. Her eyes slowly met his and he could see how glossed over they were; she was trying to hold back her tears. She stumbled slightly as she groggily walked over to him. She collapsed into his arms and he immediately enveloped her trembling form. Her skin was cold to the touch and he cursed under his breath when he heard her teeth chattering.

What surprised him he most was how she actually held onto him. She let him carry her to the small bathroom, holding her to him as tightly as he possibly could. She appreciated him so much in that moment but the thoughts running through her head contrasted how she felt. He's Allen. And he loves me. But I'm messed up. And I can't.

But she still let him. She was trying and that was something. It had to be something because she was putting more effort into this than all of her 5 years without him combined. He should be happy.

So she left him to strip her of the ratchet clothing and bathe her. She left him to wash and comb her hair, she left him to disinfect all her cuts and tend to her bruises. She left him to love her while she tried her dämned hardest to reciprocate the feelings. And maybe in that spasm of unexplainable feelings between the two, she realized she really did love him. Or maybe she was just high again and her thoughts possibly haywire. And because of that she didn't act on her feelings.

And for the first time since Allen met her. He couldn't.