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“Slater!”
My father roars from the bathroom, and a ragged groan leaves my throat. He’s sick. Getting worse with every passing second. I don’t want to help him anymore. Hell, there are days I’ve wished he would just die. But the moment that thought enters my head, I feel fuckin’ awful. He’s my father. He’s like this because we lost mom. I have to remind myself of that.
Even on the days I just wish the world would rid me of him.
I angrily toss my phone down and walk up the stairs to the bathroom where he’s bellowing from. I step in, and come to a complete pause. There’s blood everywhere. All over the floor, and smeared around his mouth. I know even before he looks at me with horror striken eyes, that he’s vomiting blood. I also know, that is not good.
I move quickly, grabbing a towel and throwing it down onto the vomit. I grab another one and grab hold of his head, wiping at his mouth. He makes a gargling sound, and starts vomiting again. Sprays of it spew out across the floor and all over me. He needs an ambulance. He needs a hospital.
“Damon!” I bellow.
Nothing.
Fuck.
“Damon!” I roar.
Still nothing.
Dad starts shaking.
I have to call for help, but I can’t do that if he’s going to choke on his own vomit while I go and get my phone.
Suddenly, Ellie is beside me.
I don’t even know where she came from.
Or what the hell she’s doing in my house.
But she’s here, towel in hand, gently cradling my dad’s head and pressing the towel over his mouth, before her beautiful eyes meet mine. “Go and call for help. I’ve got him.”
I stare at her.
She stares at me.
Then I stand and run. I find my phone, and call for help, before returning back to Ellie. She’s whispering to my father, soft words of comfort. She doesn’t care that she’s probably going to get covered in blood if he spews again, she doesn’t care that he’s so drunk he’s crying in her arms, she just hangs onto him, offering the kind of comfort none of us boys could ever give him.
And maybe that’s exactly what he needs.
“Help is coming,” I say, staring at my father, and truly feeling at a loss as to what is best for him now.
He needs help.
We’ve all ignored it long enough.
Not long later, help arrives and my father is whisked away to the hospital. I tell the paramedics I’ll clean up, and be right there. When they’re gone, I turn to Ellie, who has filled the bathroom sink with warm water. She turns, squeezing out a wash cloth, and walks over to me. “Take your shirt off and sit on the edge of the tub.”
I blink at her.
“I’ll take a shower. It’s fine.”
“You have blood all over you, stuck in your hair, and on your face. Let me wipe it off, and then you’ll be able to get the rest with a shower.”
I stare at her, and I know full fuckin’ well I should walk out and have a damned shower, but instead I find myself reaching for the hem of my shirt and lifting it up and over my head. Then, I sit on the edge of the tub. Ellie stares at me, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. Her eyes roam over my body, and she bites her bottom lip. Fuck me, I wish she wouldn’t do that.
Get she’s a girl, and I know I’m appealing to girls.
But she’s also too young.
Too fuckin’ young.
She walks over, and places the warm cloth against my forehead and starts wiping the blood off. Her breasts are right in my face, and I have to close my eyes and clench my jaw to stop myself jerking her into my arms and taking her right here, mess or no mess.
“Your dad is going to be okay,” she says, busily cleaning me.
“Don’t give a fuck anymore, Ellie. He’s doing this to himself.”
“He’s broken.”
I jerk back and look up at her. “He’s an alcoholic.”
“He’s an alcoholic, because he’s broken.”
“You’ve known my family for how long?” I growl. “What makes you think you know the ins and outs of it all?”
She stops and stares at me. “I don’t need to know you at all, to know what broken looks like. I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen the emptiness in people’s eyes. Your dad is empty, because he lost the only thing that gave him life. One day you might love someone so much, Slater Knight, and one day you might just understand how broken feels.”
I stare at her, so long her cheeks turn red and she looks away.
“Okay, Ellie,” I murmur. “What do you suggest I do about my broken father?”
“I suggest you get him help,” she says, rinsing the cloth and refreshing it before continuing to clean me up. “He needs to get past his addiction, and when he does, he might be able to deal with what lead him there. If he doesn’t get help, he will die. I guess it’s up to you to decide what you can live with.”
I exhale, but I know she’s right.
He does need help.
“What the hell?”
We both turn to see Finn and Damon standing in the door, their eyes on the blood splattered across the floor.
“What the fuck happened?” Finn whispers, eyes scanning Ellie and I.
“Dad made that mess,” I mutter, standing and snatching the cloth from Ellie’s hand. “Ellie came over just in time to help. He’s on his way to the hospital. We need to go, too.”
“Dad did this?” Damon whispers, eyes wide.
“Yeah,” I mutter, walking past Ellie and towards the door. “Goin’ to shower, then we’re leaving. Be ready.”
I exit the room, and do just that.
By the time I’m showered and return to the bathroom, Finn, Damon and Ellie have it cleaned up.
“Let’s go,” I say, avoiding Ellie’s eyes.
“I’ll stay and finish cleaning the floor,” she says, her tone soft. “Damon, let me know how your dad is.”
Damon nods, glares at me, and then exits the room.
“Thanks,” I mutter before turning to walk out.
“You’re welcome, Slater Knight,” she whispers, her voice almost so soft I don’t hear it.
Fuck.
I’m an asshole.