𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ➀

14 CAPTIVE

"Ohhh my heeeaaad..." Monica groans from the bed.

"I've been there." I call out from the kitchen knowing exactly what that feeling is like.

At the sound of my voice she sits up abruptly from the bed looking completely freaked out. I lean against the counter top, crossing my arms over my chest as I study her. Monica looks dazed and confused.

"Sean?" She looks at me with squinting eyes and I can practically see the gears slowly starting to turn in her brain. "How'd I get here? What am I doing here?"

I feel her pain, I really do. I know what it's like to black out and not remember the previous nights events. Although, Trevor is usually the one telling me what insanity I took part in the previous night and I usually blackout on purpose. I sigh, "What's the last thing you remember?"

She pauses for a moment, looking at nothing in particular. That's when I can tell she remembers something because her eyes are now as wide as saucers. Now she's looking at me as if I were the devil himself and I know she's remembering my little episode at the club. She jumps out of the bed, which completely surprises me, looking like she's going to sprint for the door.

"He deserved it." And I may have not known it at the time but he more than deserved it.

"You're crazy!" She yells "Jesus Christ." She puts both hands on the side of her face. "You're totally insane, completely bat-shit crazy. I can't believe what you did to him."

She's not entirely wrong... "Keep thinking, sweetheart."

"I..." She begins recollecting "I can't remember really. I just... we were outside, then your truck..." Monica face palms herself and I know it's all coming back to her now. Then it all definitely clicks because she starts crying.

I hate when people cry and that's because I have no idea what to do. I suck when it comes to handling any kind of emotional situation. Thankfully, after a few moments, she collects herself and looks back at me. "Thank you for taking care of me." She murmurs.

I nod instead of saying anything because I am suddenly even more uncomfortable. I spent my entire night and day looking after her, even lying next to her at one point. I didn't want her dreams laced with any more sadness and the only way she finally stopped pouting for good was when I was on the bed with her. I made sure I was the farthest thing away from her and made sure I didn't sleep, but it was more than I'd ever given to anyone willingly and without being completely black out drunk.

"I got some breakfast." I hold up a bag from Dunkies. "Figured you'd be hungry when you woke up."

She stares at the bag in my hand then quirks a brow at me. "You, asshole-of-the-year, went out and got breakfast?"

"Yes, the best-looking asshole-of-the-year went out and got breakfast." I smirk at her which only results in a hearty eye roll.

She looks at me and then looks at the door as if she's contemplating something. Most likely contemplating whether or not to fucking run for dear life or not and I don't blame her. Getting as far away from me is most definitely in her best interest. She lets out an overexerted breath of air before shaking her head and walking up to me.

She grabs one of the bagels out of the bag, eyeing it cautiously before taking a bite. She should've probably fucking done that last night with the questionable drinks dumb-blonde-fuck was giving her, but I digress.

"What time is it?" She asks as she glances around the dark apartment.

" It's six pm." I tear open my own wrapper and take a hearty bite.