Master [s.m]

23.

•rebecca•

The beautiful bird on the balcony flies away as I hear stumbling sounds behind me.

I've been talking to the bird for hours, and he didn't make a move until now. Although I did leave to find a blanket but the bird waited for me.

I walk to his room, curious of what that noise was only to find him on the floor groaning.

Watching him, he gets up and looks at me clearly intoxicated. He walks towards me slowly, burping on his way.

"Oh, kitten." He breathes out before laying his head on my shoulder. It sends me lightly tripping back, since his weight on weighing on me.

He reeks of vodka, like he swam in a pool filled with it.

I lightly push him off of me, and he almost trips. He walks towards some cabinet next to his bed and takes out a large bottle of a clear substance.

He also takes out a glass. After staring at the glass for a moment, he sets it back in the cabinet and brings the bottle to his lips.

I walk to the door with the idea that this man is probably going to overdose if I leave him with that bottle in my mind.

With the doorknob in my hand, I look back at him as he talks to himself, sipping the drink every ten seconds or so.

My feet drag my body towards him, and my hands grab the bottle from his hand. It's like my body is taking over my mind, and I'm completely not in control of what I'm doing.

"Give." He pauses to burp. "It back."

He reaches for it but I walk towards the bathroom to pour it down the drain. I hear clinging sounds and walk back to his room to find him another bottle.

I grab it again and grab the four other bottles in the cabinet. Walking back to the bathroom, I pour them down too.

He watches me throw away the substance he's craving on his knees. It's so weird to see him this way.

Does the way I feel for Grant really affect him this much?

I could've walked away and let him die there... Why the hell didn't I?

For everything that he's done to me, I would love to watch him die. So, I have no idea what's causing me to do this.

I sit on the toilet as he sits on the floor at a distance. This man is so drunk.

We stay in silence until I hear noises so foreign to my ears come out of his mouth. I look at him with his arms covering his face, his red face visible through the darkness. Is he... is he crying?

Oh my god.

I stare at him gobsmacked at what I'm seeing in front of me. He's completely breaking down in front of me, and this situation is absolutely divergent because the roles between us are usually the switched up.

I'm always the one crying in front of him, so I have no idea how to handle this predicament except widen my eyes and have my mouth fall to the floor.

"The only reason why I'm drinking is you, and now you're the reason I'm not drinking." He sobs, followed with a small chuckle.

I want to take a picture of this and show him next time he tries to intimidate me to show him he's not as hard as he thinks he is.

Seeing such a powerful and dangerous man be in complete desolation is overwhelming and comfortable at the same time.

Overwhelming because this is so much to handle. Well, I don't even know how to handle it.

Comfortable because seeing an evil man with feelings just reassures me that he could maybe have an ounce of sympathy.

After coughing multiple times, he covers his mouth and seems like he's about to vomit.

I get up from the toilet and sit on the bathtub.

He crawls towards the toilet and throws his whole life up. I look away, not wanting to see that.

"Why can't it be me?" He wipes his mouth and gets up. "Why is it Grant that you like and not me?"

"Because you're crazy." I feel myself take advantage of his state to confess all of what I feel towards him. "You scare me."

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you anymore. Why are you still scared?" He questions taking a seat on the bath next to me.

"Just because you say that you won't hurt me, it doesn't take the fear away." I tell him truthfully. "I mean, you shot two people already."

He scoffs, and runs his hand through his messy hair. "One of them I killed for you and you still hate me."

"Yes. And I'm grateful that you came that night. But you ruined my life." I say and he looks down at the floor.

We stay in silence and I look at his face thoroughly. There's a small cute above his eyebrow with dried blood pouring from it.

I cross my arms, hesitating if I should ask him what happened. "W-What happened to your face."

He looks at me like he's surprised. "Some idiot smashed a bottle on me."

I stay silent, not wanting to know what the hell he did to cause someone to smash a bottle on his head.

"You have a first aid kit?" I ask him and get up. He points at the cabinet under the sink and I open it to grab the box.

Taking out some rubbing alcohol and bandages, I turn on the light to get a better look.

Standing in between his legs, I cringe at the disgusting deep cut on his forehead.

I apply some alcohol on a cotton ball and wait for him to wince when I press it firmly on the cut. Instead, his big brown eyes look up at me, his face showing that this isn't affecting him at all.

"You're so beautiful." He tells me with his blissful eyes looking up at me. Two minutes ago, he was just crying. "Did I ever tell you that?"

"You have." I find myself giggling. A noise sounding so strange. I can't even remember the last time I laughed. The last time I smiled. The last time I was even amused.

I put the bandage on his cut, trying to ignore his powerful gaze on my face. "I wished you weren't so beautiful. I wouldn't have bought you, and I wouldn't be feeling like this."

"Feeling like what?" I ask him, letting go of him but staying in the same position as I was.

"Like I want to let go of something but I just can't." He says and I stare at him.

This is exactly what I'm feeling. Like I want to just let go of my life but the only thing holding me back is hope. Hope it will get better.

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