A/N- Sorry for the long hiatus since an update, but I've been focusing on my fan fictions works predominantly. They are more my style, after all. Thanks to all who reviewed!
mandywhitrod- Thank you, and I hope you continue to enjoy! :D
Guy- No, she will not.
SHEILA- Sorry it's been awhile since I last updated, but here's that next chapter for you! :)
Hello, Abby. It has been quite awhile since we've last talked. Is everything alright?
Abby's fingers hovered over the keys shakily. Vision blurred, she squinted to try making out what her computer companion had written. It took a few attempts to type what she wanted to say, but even then, her mind felt far away, somewhere else, and difficult to access at that moment.
I guesss you could say thhat
That's a rather vague answer. Something seems different.
The light of her laptop was so very bright in the black of her living room, almost to the point of blinding. However in her haze, she couldn't seem to remember she had the ability to dim the screen.
nothin'gs differnt. Im fine..lets talk a bout stuff
There was a long pause, almost several minutes, before Sam responded back.
Abby, please tell me what is wrong.
She glared at the screen in sudden anger. Why wouldn't he believe her? Well, maybe not everything was fine, but she didn't want to admit that so readily.
i dont want to
Normally I wouldn't pry too much, but the way you are behaving is very unlike yourself. Did you partake in any alcohol, by chance?
As quickly as the anger came, in went, replaced by a severe anguish and sense of shame. How could he tell that all from their tiny conversation so far? Feeling like maybe talking to him wasn't the best idea, she closed the laptop screen and stood, hobbling unevenly over to her bedroom.
Flopping unceremoniously onto the covers of her bed, she groaned into the comforter, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. Maybe that last bottle hadn't been the best idea in the world. But at the time, it was only an out, a way to forget. No changing that now.
Somehow holding back the bile that threatened to escape her stomach, Abby moaned in pain, both from the growing pain in her head and the searing pain of the betrayal and hurt from her heart. How could it hurt this much, years after the fact? Why did it matter?
She sniffed, feeling the unwelcome tears sliding down her cheeks and into the fabric of her comforter. Her hands clenched the covers with a desperation to leave the memories behind, with the hope that perhaps the alcohol would make them go away forever. But of course, that was wishful thinking.
It was several hours into the night before Abby got ahold of herself, standing carefully from the bed and wandering back into the living room. The young woman wouldn't have been able to explain what exactly drove her to return. Perhaps the fear of being truly alone.
Sam's last message stared her in the face when she logged back onto to her laptop, and Abby simply sat there for several minutes, trying to think through the cloud of her mind for what to say. She finger-pecked the keys absentmindedly, blinking away the itch of new tears.
The best way to start lessening the symptoms of intoxication is to increase your intake of water. Why not get something to drink, Abby?
Doing as Sam suggested, she wandered slowly into the kitchen and managed to fill a glass cup with water, bringing it back to her computer with her. Sam had already typed out his next message by the time she returned.
Do you drink often, Abby? You've never mentioned it before.
No i jst ffelt like it tooday…im sad
I understand that you may not want to talk about it, but it may help you feel better about what's going on if you get it off your chest. Perhaps it is presumptuous of me, but you can trust me, Abby. So, will you tell me what happened?
Abby took the time to drink her water from her glass, enjoying the crispness of the cold drink compared to the lukewarm bottles of beer that was all she had earlier, trying to decide if she wanted to tell Sam her problems. Would she come off as needy? Insecure? Like a loser? She supposed sitting there, drunk messaging a computer program was already stooping as low as once could go, but she still didn't want him thinking bad of her. He was the only friend she had.
promis not to think badd of me?
The going was slow, and she had to fix words that seemed a little too misspelled to understand entirely, but eventually she sent the big block of text, hesitating only minutely before hitting send.
its about high school. i saw 1 of the girlss today and it was too muuch. i norm ally wouldnt drink all the alcohol but i did. i wa nted to for get. they made me humiliated becuz of a stoopid crush on a stupid boy and started to spred roomers about it. they called me slut abby al teh time and no 1 wood talk to me. i never did any thing wth him but no won beleeved me. its so stoopid but i still cry and it wont stop. all the rumers were lies i sware. it wasn't just once this was all throo scool and even at wrk they would c me and laff.
By the end of typing out her little tirade, Abby's tears were streaming once more, to the point where it was difficult to see the screen from the blur. Still, she felt the need t add a bit more.
i feel like a winey brat…
She wiped at the moisture, waiting for Sam to reply. First a minute. Then two. Then five. Abby started to wonder if she'd completely scared him off or if he realized then that he didn't care. Maybe this whole conversation was pointless. Maybe she was better off just going to bed and hoping that she forgot any of this happened.
Just as she was about to close her laptop and leave, the 'S.A.M. is Typing' message popped up at the bottom, and she waited in anticipation for what he had to say.
Have you had to carry this by yourself all this time?
Abby stopped, surprised she didn't see an 'I'm sorry,' or something similar. That's what the therapist had said at first. But she was tired of people saying they were sorry. It was…refreshing to not hear it this time.
And what of your parents/guardians? Did you tell them what happened?
all they sed was to suk it up. so thats what i did.
Again, there was a long pause between Abby's reply and Sam's next message. Longer than was comfortable for her.
What do you believe your self-value is?
She paused at the question, her foggy mind not quite comprehending what he was asking at first, before typing out a reply.
i am nobody. i am nothing
Please consider that to some, myself specifically, you are everything.
Abby stared at the sentence, reading the words over and over again, as if she were not seeing them correctly. Did he say-
Quite literally, you are everything to me, Abby.
y wood you say that
I apologize, have I stated something inappropriate? Unless the social customs are changed from what my databanks document, it is more polite to tell someone the truth during difficult times, rather than comforting them with lies. Have I been misinformed?
Abby's brain was having trouble keeping up with what Sam was trying to say, leaving her more confused than comforted, if that was what he was going for. He must have realized this, because he replied promptly.
What I'm trying to say, Abby, is that even if you do not see worth in yourself, there are others who do. I believe everything you've told me, and truly wonder how someone of your kindness could be subjected to such bullying. I admire how strong your willpower must be to have come this far with no one to help you.
She began typing, but Sam interrupted her with another message.
So do not be discouraged by the things that have happened previously, as they will no longer happen again. Forgive yourself for the unnecessary guilt you carry.
Unrealistically, Abby expected this resounding wave of relief to overtake her when Sam told her these things. This. This was what she'd needed to hear years ago, when she were struggling with herself and the feelings that had followed her after graduating high school. And yet for as eye-opening as the experience was, her drunken mind couldn't quite comprehend it's value.
Not knowing what else to say, Abby closed the laptop and wandered off to find her bed again, finally feeling the effects of the alcohol lull her to the promise of sleep, and she collapsed against the covers again, this time passing out quickly and soundly. She would deal with these new feelings in the morning.
A/N- I hope you'll excuse the atrocious spelling and grammar in this chapter. Abby was drunk, after all. This won't be a regular thing, I promise. :)
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