Chapter 9

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The next morning I stayed in bed a little longer than usual. Maybe it was the embarrassment of having to face Aspen after last night's events. I wasn't up for it in all honesty. I rather curl up in a ball and die of loneliness than have faced him.

But sooner rather than later my bubble burst as a knock echoed against my door.

"What?" I moaned, my head under my pillow trying to ease the headache pounding against my skull. I spent the majority of the rest of last night becoming well acquainted with my toilet. Who knew drugs did not react well with my system.

"It's me." An all too familiar voice which was probably the last voice I ever wanted to hear sounded from behind the closed door.

"Go away," I said rudely, not caring how I sounded. I refused to face him.

I swore I still heard my door swing open anyway.

Bringing up my head from my makeshift cocoon I glared at the intruder in the evilest way I could muster.

Aspen chuckled. "Bed hair suits you. You look like you just came out of hibernation."

I groaned, smoothing my hands against my hair, knowing it was in a futile attempt.

"Get out, Aspen."

"Ouch, not the way I would greet someone who saved my life only just last night."

"Cry me a river." I rolled my eyes, forcing myself to climb out of my bed. There was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep anyway.

"Well, you might just make me if you keep being a dick to me." He teased, offering me a hint of his pearly teeth. My heart involuntarily dropped the damn thing.

"Get out, Aspen," I repeated but this time in a sing-song tone. Annoyance dripping off of each word.

"Listen, I came in here for a reason."

"Uh-huh?" I prompted him, folding my hands one on top of the other.

He paused as if unsure as to ask me the thing that had clearly made him act irrationally and barge into my room.

Before he could continue I blurted out something that had been on my mind, "Who's motorcycle was that last night?"

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Mine."

"How did you afford that?"

"I bought it." His jaw started working back and forth. I seemed to have struck a chord.

"Sure." I chuckled, smugly. There was no way he bought that with his own money. Plus he now moved here. Aspen didn't look like the saver, spend thrifty type.

"Forget it," He said curtly and turned on his heel out the bedroom door.

He never got the chance to tell me the reason he really came for.

Thirty minutes later I managed to look moderately decent. Looking at myself in the mirror I grimaced. I had seen many better days and today was definitely not one of them.

My sad, dull eyes stared lucklessly back at me through the mirror.

"Wynter! Come down here right now!" My dad's voice traveled from the kitchen. The displeasure in his voice was obvious and there was only one thing he could be mad at me for. I was going to kill Aspen.

Grabbing my handbag off of my comforter, I raced down the stairs. There were only certain instances where my dad ever raised his voice at me. I could count all those instances on one hand.

"I cannot believe you got drunk last night!" His cherry-red face greeted me from behind the kitchen's island. His hands were clenched into fists, working back and forth on top of the counter.

Aspen was seated on the barstool next to him. A smug smile planted right on top of his pretty little face. I made sure to shoot daggers in his direction.

"But-" I didn't, was what I wanted to say before he cut me off again.

"You did an entire year of rehab because of the incident last year and for all of it to go down the drain! I trusted you! I thought you got over it. How could you hurt me like this Wynter? How can you stand up in front of me and not feel ashamed?" His chin was trembling, a telling sign that he was about to cry. Cry out of frustration? I didn't blame him. I was holding back the tears myself.

"I didn't dad," I mumbled out, my voice breaking. "I swear on my life I didn't take a sip of alcohol."

The tears were falling freely down my face and I did nothing to conceal them. I didn't care if Aspen saw. The look of horror on his face from what my dad said and what he probably hadn't expected in the first place was fitting.

"I don't want to hear it, Wynter! Aspen told me everything. How last night you had one too many drinks and he had to carry you out the party just so you wouldn't embarrass yourself further. And that was after you passed out on the floor? Really? You are a disgrace to this family's name!"

I dug my nails into the palms of my hands, welcoming the pain of freshly cut skin. My entire body was trembling, holding back the breakdown I was about to have. I tried so hard after that incident last year to show him I was good. I wasn't a drunk. I only want to make him proud.

I watched through hazy eyes as he dismissed me silently, turning his back towards me and to the kitchen sink. For some reason, my mind traveled to what Aspen was probably thinking about the whole ordeal.

"Sir, I don't think she got drunk purposely. She didn't make her own drinks. I shouldn't have said anything." Aspen tried to fix the mess he created but I knew it would be too late. My father already wrote me off.

"No Aspen, I agreed not to say anything to anyone as per Wynter's request but she broke my trust so you should know. Last year on Halloween, I got a call from the ER stating my daughter had almost died at a party. She was drunk and had three drugs in her system. Her best friends had told me the entire story and how they couldn't control her that night. I was so disgraced I wanted to disown her that night. But instead, I got her the help she needed and I thought she had been making progress." He paused and faced me before he continued." Heck, I really had hoped that she'd turn around to be the daughter I always wanted."

Well, that just sent me over the edge. My knees buckled from up under me and I sobbed, throwing my face into my hands. I sobbed, feeling like my life on this earth had no point. My mother was dead, my own father hated me for that and I had nobody else to turn to. And here Aspen was making my life an even worse living hell.

Without looking at either one of them I got up from the floor and ran up the stairs, slamming my door shut but not before my father could shout from downstairs that the conversation wasn't over.

The worst part was I hadn't even been home for a week yet.



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