model call || h.s

86.

" What did you do to my eyes?

What did you sing to that lonely child?

Promised your love but you lied

You better slow down baby soon

It's all or nothing to you "

3:20 A.M

Nora couldn't explain or justify her reasoning for waking up at the hour that she did. Something just wasn't right, whether it was mother's intuition or just...a gut feeling. She slipped out of bed and hugged his flannel closer to her body. Her feet padded down the hall as she checked on the kids, who were both sleeping soundly...peacefully. To be safe, she peeked inside each room in the house as she descended further. Everything was clear, including the guest room, unfortunately. Harry wasn't on the couch, nor was he down in his studio. All she could think was that he'd gone out...gone drinking. Left. She climbed back up the basement steps, her feet dragging behind her. When she stepped back up into the kitchen, the smell in the air was...unpleasant, to say the least. It was something she hadn't totally paid attention to when she'd first come down. She turned the light on and walked around the island. The scene in front of her wasn't her worst nightmare, but her stomach still dropped as she took it in. Harry, sitting—sleeping up against the cabinet...a practically empty bottle of the cheap whiskey beside him, and a massive puddle of puke surrounding him. "Oh, Harry..." She whispered, although he was passed out and probably couldn't hear her. His phone sat there, on the counter and she grabbed it. he snapped a few pictures of the scene before her, she needed him to see what he'd done to her...to their family. Then she put every ounce of her strength in pulling him up, into her arms. He was heavy and covered in vomit, but he was the love of her life and he needed her help. She struggled to walk them both up to the second floor, but she turned on the shower in the guest bedroom and sat him softly against the tile wall. She sat in with him, the water raining down on them both, and piece by piece she removed the barf-soaked clothes. Her face was stoic as she did so, and once he was naked, she used soap to wash and clean him thoroughly. He must've been pretty plastered, because he didn't wake once, he barely stirred, but his breathing was even and seemingly normal. Her clothes were drenched at this point, but she towel dried him and then laid him on the bed. She brought his soiled clothes down to the laundry room, and took clean ones back up to him. Once he was dressed and tucked inside the sheets, she trudged down to the kitchen and surveyed the mess. It truly was one hell of a mess. She used up plenty of rags and towels...disinfectant, but at one point she felt entirely drained. Her sniffles came first and then the reality of what was happening hit her hard in the face. As she sat perched on her hands and knees, she began to cry—no, she began to weep. Was this it? Was this her life? Would she have to leave him? Would he change? Would he fix this? She broke down, she sobbed and she prayed to a god she wasn't even sure she believed in. "Please, help him...please help him come back to me...oh god, please..." After a few more minutes of crying, she wiped her face with her water and soap soaked flannel sleeves, and then she got back to work. She cleaned the whole mess until there wasn't a trace of it left, and when she finally stood up, she had a splitting headache from crying so hard, her knees were bruised, her hands were raw...and she was utterly exhausted. Nora cried more, and harder in the shower, which only worsened her headache. After she pulled on a clean shirt, she sat down in the chair beside his bed and she watched him sleep. She felt waves of different emotions. Anger, sadness...hatred, love over that hatred and then just...exhaustion. Both mental and physical. She needed him to be her rock again. She needed him in every sense of the word. She needed this to end.