Giggles. Monica's giggles.

So much for not running into her this evening. Just my fucking luck. Nadia bites my lip playfully and my hand tightens around her wrists involuntarily. The action causes her to moan out and rock herself against me.

"I like that." She whispers like a wanton kitten. "If you remember, I like it rough, really rough. Just like you. I want you to make me scream like you did last time. Make me beg for more."

I cringe thinking how Monica probably just heard those words. She just heard that I've had intercourse with this woman before and not just that but, from the sounds of it, extremely rough sex. Her eyes open when I don't respond, when none of me responds to her.

I step away from her, letting go of her hands in the process. She almost drops to the floor but I hold her steady so she doesn't. I pull her dress down, the one that had managed to hike up past her waist, exposing her little red thong. I give her a sad look as she stares up at me in bewilderment. Clearly she hadn't heard the noise I had just heard.

"No need to stop on my account, Sean." Monica's voice slurs out from behind me.

I close my eyes, gritting my jaw in frustration as I fasten my pants and redo my belt. I take a few deep breaths as I adjust myself, willing myself to calm down. Looking over my shoulder I see Monica sitting on the floor, leaning against her door. She looks absolutely fucking wasted.

Well, that's not exactly what I was expecting to come home too...

"By all means, keep going. I was getting ready to enjoy the show, Sean." She lets out a few more chuckles to herself. "Why not just fuck her right in front of me? Do some of that rough sadist shit she was talking about. Sounds like it was a good time. She looks like she'd probably let you fuck her anywhere too." Monica looks around me to Naomi. "You would, wouldn't you? You'd totally let him fuck you right up against th..."

"Monica, that's enough." I interrupt her because she's way to fucking wasted right now. She probably doesn't even know what she's saying.

Her gaze turns back to me. Well, it's not a gaze, it's a glare. She looks amused and infuriated, an interesting combination I don't think I've ever seen before.

"Excuse me, bitch?" Nora asks as she tries to step around me but I hold her back.

"Oooo," Monica laughs again "what're you going to do, Miss BDSM?"

"You little bi..."

Aaaaaaand we're done here.

I turn around and look down at her. "I think we should call it a night, Nora."

"My name is Nadine, asshole." She spits venomously. "You know you should've probably told me you lived with your fucking drunk, loser of a girlfriend before trying to take me back to your place." She looks around me and down to Monica, "just so you know, your boyfriend here fucked me at his friend's place. Fucked me hard and all night long."

"Listen, cunt, that was months ago. And the only reason you're here right now is because you were practically begging for my dick at the liquor store. So why don't you fuck off and find somebody else to go spread your legs for."

"You're a prick."

"That'd be me, now get the fuck out." I don't say anything else as I turn around to assess Monica.

Yup, she's fucking wasted. She looks like a fucking mess. She's sitting, on the god damn floor, with her back pressed up against her apartment door. Her head is now leaning on the doorframe as she looks up at me. She seems like she's trying to be mad but she just looks drunk and lost.

"What the fuck are you doing on the floor, Monica?"

She shrugs, at least she tries to shrug. She does manage to counter with, "where the fuck have you been for the past month?"

Nearly fucking comatose, looking pretty much how you look right about now.

"Monica, come on. Let's get you into your apartment." I kneel down in front of her and her eyes start to droop and flutter. "Hey, hey" I say trying to regain some of her focus "Where are your keys?" She shrugs some more. "God damn it, Monica."

"Errdernknow." I'm pretty sure she meant she didn't know since I am pretty fluent in impaired speech.

I pat her body down and find them in her pocket. I stand up and unlock the door, swinging it open. Monica almost falls straight backward but I catch her before she can smack her head against the floor and lay her down in the entryway.

"Monica?" I call out but there's no answer. She's passed the fuck out. "Of course you would just pass out on me." I sigh but am thankful for the fact we no longer have to have a conversation about where I've been or what just happened.

Hopefully she just forgets...

I pull the rest of Monica into her apartment, letting the door slam shut behind me. I lean down, pick her up bridal style, and bring her to her bed. Once she's laid down I wrap her up with her covers. She's a mess, a beautiful fucking mess but a mess nonetheless.

I begin to turn away to leave when something catches my eye. My gaze locks on some prescription bottles atop her nightstand and I automatically tense up. This is probably why she is so fucked-up right now.

Please don't tell me you started with this type of shit, sweetheart.

I reach out and grab the different bottles off the nightstand. I turn them around in my hand one by one as I study the names. I don't recognize any of them aside from the painkiller. With another hearty sigh I take them over to her couch and sit down.

I turn them in my hand a few more times before setting them down on the coffee table. If she's mixing pills, especially with alcohol, I want to make sure she doesn't accidentally overdose. Lord only knows how fucking guilty I'd feel if I just left her here for something like that to happen.

I pull out my phone and google the name on the first pill bottle which is nearly empty. Google lets me know it's an anti-nausea medication. The next bottle is completely empty, so I'm not sure if she's even taken it this evening or not. Regardless of either, I type the name into my phone. I drop the bottle and my phone the moment the result shows up.

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.

I stand up and walk directly out the door. I grab the bottle of Tanqueray from the hallway floor, unscrew the cap and make my way back to the couch. The moment I plop down on it, I chuck the cap somewhere off into the room. I bring the bottle to my lips and drink in hearty gulps. More accurately, I begin chugging it.

Fuck. Why do I damage everything I touch?

I look down at the empty prescription bottle on the floor and then over to the bed where Monica is now soundly sleeping. As I watch her I am reminded of a night, a little more than a month ago now, when she was on my bed mumbling in her sleep. The tears had been dripping from her eyes after that douche bag had drugged her.

Fucking hell.

I think back to the exact words she had whispered to herself, to me, while she slept. I think about what those words truly meant now and how I had had no idea at the time. I had no idea that she was... she had been... I can't even bring myself to think the fucking word. And I guess I won't have to considering she no longer is anymore.

"Sean... I'm sorry... I just know you wouldn't..." Wouldn't want to be a father.

My stomach begins to roll as I continuously play her words over again in my mind. They make sense now and they also make me feel like I want to throw up all over the place. I'm such a fucking piece of shit.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I take another series of swigs from the bottle and slam it on the coffee table. I put my head in my hands and rub the top of my head as rough as I can because I'm also having another revelation. The last time we'd been intimate together, something I've been avoiding like the fucking plague for the past few weeks, she'd known.

Through every touch and caress she'd had that in the back of her mind. When I had let her hold me and touch me, things I'd never let anyone do to me, she'd known. Then I went totally fucking psychotic on her and left.

I left her alone through that...

"I'm such a fucking wreck." I mumble out to myself.

I stand up and take one last look at Monica, feeling like the lowliest scum of the planet. I have missed her beautiful face and watching the way she sleeps. A part of me feels utterly guilty for my actions over the past couple weeks. I never feel guilty, ever. I've also never been fucking infatuated with a neighbor before.

As if there weren't enough horrible things that were already on my list of reasons to drink and get royally fucking bent. This situation is definitely going to be another one. I sigh as I run my hand over my face.

I grab the bottle off the table, leaving the prescription bottles strewn across the top of it. I make my way over to Monica, checking on her one last time before I head out. "I'm so fucking sorry," I whisper as I lean down to kiss her forehead.

I've never realized more in my life how utterly useless those two words are as I lock up Her apartment. The words I'm sorry don't fix a damn thing.

✭✭✭✭✭
A/N:

This book, if you really haven't been able to tell by now, is full of darkness. It's full of substance abuse, swearing, and a fuckton of shitty decisions. It's what makes this book what it is. This is not your typical romance novel. I had no intention of writing that type of book.  My aim for it was transgressive fiction.

With that being said, if you do choose to read and be an awesome supporter, like so many of you have been, thank you! Your kindness through follows, votes, comments, and messages have been wonderful!

Thank you, you amazing people!