Drabble 2: Accusation.
"Natalie." His voice is thick, but he doesn't let it waver. He knows if he does, she'll win. "Natalie, you're high. You're going home."
She squints at him with those big, dilated brown eyes., unsure of how to respond, "Henry… I'm.. n-not high!" She hiccups, jabbing her finer into his chest. She continues dancing and Henry takes a deep breath before grabbing her shoulders.
"Nat, please. Let's go home, you can stay with me if you want. Please." He pleads, but she just looks confused.
"You're not 'aving f-fun?" She says slowly, hiccuping slightly on the last word. His eyes soften and he puts his arm around her, leading her out of the club. She whines the entire time, cursing and giving pitiful attempts to escape.
They sit in his car, just sit with the air conditioner blasting ice at them in an attempt to sober her up. It's quiet until she makes a mad dash out of the car, to which he's about to follow her, but he realizes she's getting sick on the pavement. So, Henry waits. He waits a good ten minutes, lets her cry on the sidewalk and offers her a strip of gum when she finally returns.
"I'm sorry." Her voice shakes, tears still clinging to her cheeks. He nods and holds her, lets her cry, lets her tell him how much she loves him and how she'll never do it again.
His mouth stays in a tight line. Because he knows, oh, he knows by now that as much as she means it right now, she won't remember a blink of it in the morning.
He drives her home, though. Sneaks in and lets her sleep it off in his arms. And once again, she awakes dazed and confused, until it dawns on her that it's happened again. She stays quiet, and so does he.
Maybe tonight, he'll hide the pills. Maybe tonight, he won't have to watch her slowly kill herself. Maybe tonight, she'll keep her promise.
It's not likely.