You shouldn’t have played the wife.
I hate it when people tell me what to do.
Zach. His happy face stares at me through the photograph and I feel a weird sensation within me.
He left me. There, alone. What would I have done if Nate hadn’t reached? What COULDN’T have happened?
Was he not drunk, at all? Zach… set me up? No.
Bile rises in my throat and I feel hot tears streaming down my face. There is a fire of anger and pain mixed. My knees give away and I slide down, against the wall, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Alanna! I told you to sit-whoa, whoa, hey. What happened?” Nate crouches down in front of me and holds my arms. I look up at him, his concerned eyes and it makes me cry even harder.
“I, wanted water.”
“Didn’t I say I was bringing that? Here, drink this.” He holds up a glass to me and I shake my head.
“Not this. Just water.”
“Alright, alright. Here.” He grabs the bottle and helps me gulp a few mouthfuls.