https://youtu.be/Uf99QO5Qk4s

(Author's Note: If you would wish to listen to Chapter 23 parts 1 and 2 on audio, please click the videos. Thank you and enjoy!)

 I'm woken by banging and barking. I glance at the clock on my nightstand, it's three in the morning! Now, who could be here at this hour?

   I ruffle out of bed and when I'm heading to the door the banging gets louder.

   Bang, bang, bang!

   Sadie starts barking again. I put my finger over my lips and say, "Shh Sadie. I'm going to check it out, and then you can attack whoever it is."

  Bang, bang, bang!

   "Alright, I'm coming!" I shout as I switch on the lights, so I know where I'm going and I won't accidentally smack myself. I head to the door, and Sadie follows right next to me.

  "Whoever it is, better have a good explanation as to why they're here at this time of night!" I shout as I swing open the door.

  My sleepy eyes move to a tall, black hair, blue-eyed man. "Chris?" I ask and pinch myself to see if I might still be dreaming. I know it's not a dream when pinching myself hurt like hell.

   I stare up at him, his eyes are dark and bloodshot. I smell an all too familiar smell, that I can remember when I used to smell this. It's not his usual peppermint smell that I came used to, but it's alcohol fumes. He reeks of vodka.

  "I like your pajamas." He smirks, but it's a drunken smile. He points toward my hair. "I see you put your hair back up. I prefer it when it's down." He slurs his words.

  "Chris, are you drunk?" I ask, but I already know the answer to my question.

  He chuckles. What's with him constantly laughing at me?

  "Yeah, it doesn't take a scientist-" He grins. "Or an m-marine biologist to realize that." He slurs again.

  "Are you going to let me in or not?" He asks.

  "Not."

  "Why do you have to be like that, Sus... Sussie... Susian... Sussiian," he stutters my name. "Fuck! Why does your name have to be sooo fucking long? Your name is so hard to p-p-pronounce!" He spits.

  Yes, it would be if you are drunk off your ass. I never have seen Chris drunk before and I don't like it. He came here drunk and what am I supposed to make of this?

  "Would you keep your voice down?" I whisper.

  If he gets any louder my neighbors will hear him. Gosh! Ms. Nelson heard him, then it would be a tribulation. She would only keep asking me what he was doing here at this time of night. And then she will call Camille and tell her Chris was here. Just one big ass problem after another.

  He grits his teeth. "Why? Y-You afraid your neighbors will hear or Ms. Nelson?" He waves his hands in the air. "I could wake her up!"

   I can't do this at this time of night. I can't think straight; I can never think straight to begin with when he's around me and it's worse if I'm half asleep. I go to push the door shut, but his foot stops it- I notice he's wearing black sneakers, my eyes travel back toward his eyes and I give him a nasty look.

   "If you don't let me in, I'll keep shouting and wake up the entire neighborhood!" He yells and his face looks dark, hollow, and... seems to antagonize. "Plus, you would not want me to go drunk home and get into a wreck..." He shrugs. "I might hurt myself or even kill myself. You wouldn't want me to do that? Would you?"

   He's trying to make me feel guilty and it's working. I don't want to have another guilty conscience for another person to die in a car accident because of me. I already feel guilty for my parent's death and then to top it with Chris and him getting hurt on my account, I don't need that in my head.

  I open the door and he smirks. I roll my eyes as I step back into the room so he can enter.

  He stumbles through the threshold, tripping on his feet and he catches himself by gripping the wall to stop him from falling. He's struggling to keep his balance. I shake my head; this man is a drunken wreck.

  "Go sit down on the couch," I demand.

  "Yes ma'am," he says as he continues stumbling on his feet, and once he's finally reached the couch, he flops down.

  Oh, Chris what am I going to do with you?

   I head to the kitchen. I open the cupboard, pulling out a glass; I put it over my sink and fill it up with water. Then, I bend down and retrieve the trash bin.

  I walk to him, set the trash bin in front of him, and hand him the glass of water.

  He doesn't take it and he eyes me over the glass. "Drink it," I order him softly.

  "Someone is so demanding."

  "Well, you come to my house in the middle of the night, and top it you're drunk, so I have the right to be so demanding. Now drink this," I say as I hold up the glass.

   He grabs it from my hand and even when he is drunk, the touch of his hand has me going crazy inside. My inner thoughts want me to kiss him again, but I shake my head because when we had kissed before he was cruel to me, and I don't want him to do that to me again.

  He takes a small sip.

 "All of it, please." I'm being demanding again, but I have the right to be. Right?

  He doesn't take his blue eyes off me until he finishes the glass of water.

 "What's with the trash bin?" He asks as he lifts his head to the trash.

 "In case you have to throw up and you can't make it to the bathroom on time, you have the trash bin," I say as I point to the trash, I wouldn't want him to puke on my floor and have my house smelling of vomit. I know the smell of vomit because I used to be covered in it, and it smells disgusting and the sight of it is worse.

 "You act like you've done this before."

  You have no idea. I never had to deal with someone being drunk in my presence, before. It was always me, who was the drunk one. I was just like him- stumbling on my feet, slurring my words, and puking everywhere. It was not a pretty sight to see and I can't believe I used to act like that. When reliving my past, I was so immature and irresponsible back then; I'm glad I changed from those years ago, but it wasn't really too long ago.

 "You can sleep on the couch," I say.

  He pouts. "I'm not going to sleep with you."

  I shake my head no. He is not going to sleep in my bed with me, and who knows what will happen if I let him sleep in the same bed as me. I can just think of the possibilities, not just kissing him, but maybe even more. But what more would I have him do? Am I considering having him in my bed? What the fuck am I thinking? I scold myself because there I go again for even wasting my time thinking of him.

  "I can keep my hands to myself," he smirks.

   Sure, he can. I still shake my head, no, and say, "The couch makes into a bed." He can pout all he wants; I'm not giving in to him. "Can you get up for a minute?" I ask.

   He looks confused, and I put my hands on my hips and glare toward him I-don't-have-all-night.

  "As you wish, ma'am," he says as he stands up from the couch.

   I can't help but smile. Why am I smiling, anyway? I head to the sofa and pull out the seating cushions, and unfold the thin frame of the mattress. I place back the cushions and now what was once a couch is now a bed.

  "Let me go get you some blankets," I say as I turn toward Chris.

  He's in front of me and leaning over me. He comes closer to my ear and whispers, "You're a good kisser."

  I giggle. "I think you are still drunk."

  He chuckles and shakes his head. "If you hadn't told me you had never been kissed before, then I would never known."

  He just being modest. If I was that good of a kisser, he wouldn't have acted the way he did. 

  He moves his hand to the length of my hair and tucks it behind my ear and I can hear his pulse has quickened. His hand moves down to my cheekbone and his thumb gently strokes over my cheek. My breathing has slowed, and the feel of his cold touch feels good on my hot skin.

  I gently put my palm onto his hand to stop him from touching me and push it off of my face. I shake my head, and utter, "Chris, I don't think this is a good idea." 

   I look down, not able to look at his face, and I think if I did I'll regret it later. He remains silent and I move past him. I go to my bedroom, and I pull out a blue blanket from my closet. I grab my pillow from my bed; since I don't have extra pillows, he can just borrow one of mine.

  Believe me, I wanted to kiss him, and I knew Chris wanted to kiss me too- I could see it in his eyes. But my subconscious told me, no, and I agreed with her. I don't want to get the chance of getting hurt again. I wonder if he had told anyone about our kiss? Gosh, I hope not. Hopefully, he would be too embarrassed to have told his friends about "this twenty-year-old woman has never been kissed before, until now. And did I forget to mention that she's also a virgin?" I would just want to kill myself if he told anyone this, but I'll take it to my grave if anyone asks about me because it's really none of their damn business about my personal life.

  I walk back to the living room and he's sitting on the sofa that looks like a bed now. Sadie is sitting right next to him.

 "Here you go," I say when I hand him the blanket and pillow.

  He smiles and he takes it from my hands. "Thank you."

  I don't know what else to say and at the risk of being awkward, I tell him, "Good night, Chris."

 "Good night, Sussianna."

  I smile. Sadie gets off the couch and stands by me. Sadie and I head to my bedroom when I hear him almost whisper, "Sussianna?"

  I stop and turn around to face him. "Yes?"

 "Never mind."

  I want to tell him what is it. Ask him what he wants to say. But instead, I nod and say, "Okay Chris. Good night."

  Once in my bedroom and Sadie is in the room with me, I close the door behind me. I feel exhausted; well with someone waking me up in the middle of the night, who wouldn't be worn out? I climb into bed and put my head on my pillow. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in, and fall into a deep sleep of a blue eye drunken man, and then it's clouded by something else, back to the one thing I try to escape.

  "It's all your fault! Look at us!" My mom shouts. Oh, no. Not again.

   Headlights and the honking of a large semi-truck come into play once again. And instantly the truck hits them. "Noooo!" I cry out! I look up from the blood flowing down my body to see a second semi-truck coming toward me and automatically hitting me.

  "Sussianna! Wake up!" A deep voice screams and I also hear a dog whimpering. The voice tries to shake me to wake up.

  I wake up startled by a tall figure hovering over me and I know it's Chris. Even with the dim light, I can still see his blue eyes.

  "Chris, my parents, and then me," I gasp. It takes a while for me to collect my thoughts and to only realize it was my nightmare again.

  "What about you and your parents?" He asks.

  "Nothing," I shake my head. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry if I did."

   Instantly, Sadie comes next to me and lays down by my side, so she can comfort me. I put my hand over her back and pat her.

  "No, don't be sorry. It was just a bad dream. Right?"

  "Yeah," I shrug. A dream that never goes away.

  "You're shaking," He says as he comes on top of my bed and lays next to me. I'm disorientated. Can this be another dream? Am I still dreaming? I unravel my brain and realize this isn't a dream, this is really happening. He's in my bed laying with me. 

   I move over, so we can have enough room for his muscular body. "Did you want me to leave?"

 "Did you want to stay?" It's clear in my voice I'm shocked by the way he cares about me.

  He shrugs. "Yeah, I mean if you want me to."

  I nod since I can't seem to get another word out.

  He puts his arms around my waist and pulls me close to his chest. I breathe in a deep lungful scent of vodka, but a hint of peppermint, which is the smell I become so devoted to and love. I don't ask him to remove his arms and I don't move him off me either. I wouldn't want him to detach himself from me. For some reason, I feel safe in his arms and feel nothing will hurt me, maybe not even him. I drift back off to sleep, so confused than I have ever been.