#winetalking

           ❝ I’M SORRY. ❞  The first two words that leave her mouth. Sorry because it’s 2:30 in the morning and she’s knocking on the Larussos’ door again. Sorry because she’s an absolute mess right now, and she shouldn’t be disturbing them this late, but she can’t afford to go the hospital to get the fresh cut on her hand stitched up. Pressure is kept on the wound by tightly-wrapped gauze; Tory always kept first-aid supplies nearby. But this isn’t something she can deal with on her own. She hates that it’s a problem in the first place. That one bad moment lead to a broken bottle in her hand. It was some stupid party. She was having fun, but then someone kept getting a little too close. A little too handsy. Maybe she overreacted, but she’s been there too many times, and fight or flight kicked in. The next moment is a blur, but a bottle’s been smashed over his head and there’s glass in her palm.  She got out of there pretty quickly after that.

           ❝ I had a bad night, ❞  her head shakes as she looks at Amanda, holding up her hand for the other to see. She draws attention to the wrapped cut, of course, since it’s the most immediate issue. But it’s written on her face that, that’s not the only thing bothering her.   ❝ I can’t afford a visit to the emergency room, and I can’t stitch it up myself. I tried. ❞  And she did, but her left hand is not as steady as her right, so she abandoned that attempt rather quickly. This is her only option. And she feels bad for it, no matter how many times she’s been assured that she can come to the Larussos’ when she needs them. That it’s okay to ask for help. She’s still learning, still getting used to that, but she’s here.  Asking.  ❝ I didn’t know what else to do.   I’m sorry.  ❞

@winetalking​