Ten Seconds

"No," she begged as I grabbed her arm, pulling her limp body towards the car. "I want to stay here."

"Anastazja, I'm not letting you stay here," I said, tugging her arm yet again in fruitless fashion.

"I don't need you to look out for me. I'm eighteen, remember?" she mumbled as her knees gave out for a brief second before she was able to pull her body up again.

"Yeah, for all of four hours!" I was still able to roll my eyes at my best friend even though she was being incredibly immature and I was concerned about her safety.

"But how old am I? How old? Answer the question!" her drunkenness was starting to wear away, and anger was taking hold.

"You're eighteen, Ana. But not mentally. Not right now, anyway."

"You're such a dick, Craig."

"Dick I might be, but concerned with you I am as well."

"Craig, I didn't ask you to come here with me. You invited yourself."

"Ana, it's a party. You don't get invited, you just go."

"Craig. I"m done with this crap. I'm going back inside without you to get drunk."

"Fine, Anastazja. I never gave a fuck about you in the first place. So go and get drunk and explain to your mother in the morning why you have a hangover."

"I will then!" she retorted, and stormed back inside the house, the door pulsing with the bass beats expelling from the gigantic stereo. She only wobbled twice in the ten yards back to the door.

She could have stumbled more. Maybe I didn't need to have as much concern for her as I actually did. It was the umpteenth time she had gotten drunk, I just wouldn't be there to bail her out and drive her home this time.

Without watching long enough to make sure she closed the door behind her, ensuring her full safety, I walked out in the direction of my car, unlocked it, got in and drove away sober, all without looking back.

I got a phone call the next morning from the hospital informing me that she had been in a car crash, suffered severe head trauma, and died at the hospital.