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After you and Amy part ways, browse for a little bit longer, then figure at this point you've had enough excitement for one day. You head home, more than a little disappointed. You've got a magic fucking ring that supposedly could make women fall all over you, and all that happened was you got accidentally felt up in front of an entire mall's worth of people. Great.

You drop your bags near the door, and collapse on your couch, pushing your sunglasses up so that they sit on your head.

"Honey, I'm home." You call out once again into the empty, quiet apartment. Suddenly you feel like crying. This day was a bust. Just like every other day. If it hadn't been for a very nice gal in college who took pity on you (and probably had a secret boob fetish), you'd probably still be a virgin.

Even a fucking magic ring couldn't get you anything more than a couple looks, how pathetic was that? A dark tide of loneliness was starting to wash over you.

You get up and grab your bottle of Jamo from the cupboard, then return to the couch. You were really gearing up now, and before long it would be a full on Kristen pity party.

You slam a shot, wipe your chin, then slam a second, grimacing a little. You pull out your phone. Shit. You told Amy you would have dinner with her soon. Maybe you should just text and cancel? If you kept at it, you'd be pass out drunk within the hour. But what would you tell her? "Sorry Amy, too busy feeling sorry for myself since I can't get anyone to fuck me?" Ugh.

You slam shot number 3, and were contemplating number 4 when suddenly there was a frantic knock at your door. "Who the fuck could that be?" You wonder. Nobody had buzzed you on your intercom. Could a salesman have snuck into the building or something? The frantic knocking continues.

You consider just sitting there in the dark until whomever it was gave up, but then a voice comes through your door.

"Oh god, Kristen are you there??" The voice is muffled, but it's clearly Amy's distraught voice coming from the other side. "Please please PLEASE be home Kristen, it's me, Amy!!"

You set down the bottle with a thunk and rush to the door. "Amy?? Whats the matter, are you alright?" You unlock the door and fling it open. Amy is on the other side, tears streaming down her face. One eye is swollen, and turning a little black and blue.

"Oh my God!!! Amy are you alright?" You usher her into your place, locking the door again behind you. "Sit down hun, here let me move this crap." You sit her on the couch and push your pile of bags aside, then you grab a nearby box of tissues and hand it to her. She grabs a wad and you take her free hand. "What happened??"

Amy hiccups, the tears streaming down her face soaking into the tissue. Her mascara running. It's several seconds before she's able to speak.

"My mom..." *hic* "she... kicked me out..." Amy sob's, burying her face in the tissues. "Somebody..." *hic* "told her I was kissing Brooke Anderson and holding her hand at the mall..." *hic* "and... and.."

She turns to you on the couch, looking you in the eye. You've never seen someone look so scared and hopeless. "She.. she called me a... a dyke, and she said get...and she said... she said if I was a dyke I was no daughter of hers...she said I would die and go to hell... and..." She's crying HARD now, her sentences barely making sense, some just a jumble of words. Harsh sobs racking her whole body. Finally she starts to make sense again. "She... she took my phone...and my car keys... and said she'd 'let' me keep the clothes I had on... oh god I can't believe this is real Kristen... and then... she told my dad... and..." You wouldn't have thought it possible, but her sobs intensify "He....he..." She turns her swollen eye towards you, clearly unable to even talk about it. Here she was, the warmest, sweetest human being in existence as far as you were concerned, and somebody had found it within themselves to hit her. Her own father no less. You've never felt rage like this in your life. If he had been there, you would have killed him on the spot.

She buries her face in a blanket then wails into it. You put an arm around her, your hand rubbing her back. No wonder she came to you instead of calling Shannon or your mom. Your mom's house was on the opposite end of the city, getting there with no car, no money, and no phone would have taken all night and been incredibly dangerous. Your more centrally located apartment was much closer.

"Oh jesus, Amy... I... I am so sorry they... they're wrong, you..." You're trying really hard to come up with something to say. "You don't deserve this Amy, you're like... a diamond that came form muck. Ok? They are jealous of just how bright you shine." You weren't even sure you were making sense, but at this point all you wanted to do was to make things better, in whatever dumb, awkward way you could.

Amy's sobbing quiets a little her face still buried in the blanket.

"Come here, sweetie." You take her into your arms and hold her, her body still shaking. "You're safe here, I promise."

Your phone chirps and you grab it from the table, trying not to disturb Amy too much.

You flip over to your texts.

"Is Amy there?" It's from your mother.

"Yeah. She's in real rough shape. She was kicked out." You reply.

"Keep her there. Her drunk POS father showed up and tried to get in the house. Thought we were hiding Amy inside. Said some horrifically homophobic stuff I can't bring myself to repeat. Had to call the cops. Either way she's much safer there. He wouldn't have the first clue where you live.

"Ok, will do. Keep me in the loop mom." You respond.

You scroll through recent messages for a moment, contemplating if there was anyone else who should know whats going on, when a harsh cough brings you around.

Amy is drinking your whiskey straight from the bottle, a little dribbles down her chin as she swigs it aggressively.

"Amy, honey..." You start. "That isn't going to help things, you should really slow down..."

Amy lowers the bottle and gives another harsh cough. "I...I..." She really is a mess now, with even more whiskey dripping down her chin. She meets your eyes for just second, then takes another long swig. You reach for the bottle and she doesn't fight you as you gently pull it away.

"Runs... in the family.... I guess..." She manages bitterly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Want to escape reality?? Just climb into a bottle!!" Her voice is a harsh, choked yell now. She kicks your coffee hard, and it turns over with a crash. You jump, startled. You had never seen even Amy get frustrated before, but violent? In even the smallest degree? Never.

Her eyes widen as she seems to process what she just did. "Oh... oh gawwwddd I'm sorry Kristennn...." Her words are starting to slur just a tad. She erupts into sobs again, burying her face in the blanket, unable to face you. "I'm a angry, shitty drunk, just like my fucking daaad!" She wails.

You're frozen, struggling to come up with something to say, when there's a loud knock.

"Kristen dear, everything ok in there?"

Oh fuck, just what you need, one of your neighbors must have heard.

You walk to the door and crack it open.

The older lady that lives next to you peeks through. "I heard a crash, sweetie, everything ok?"

You **** a smile, hoping its more convincing than it feels. "Hello Ms. Hanover, sorry about the noise, was moving some furniture and I knocked over my coffee table by accident. Everything's ok I promise." Sobs are clearly audible from your living room. "Oh umm... I have a friend over, she's having a rough time." That part was true at least.

"Uhh, and the yelling....?" She probes gently.

"Yeah, she's having a really, REALLY tough time. Haha."

"I see..." Ms. Hanover still seems pretty doubtful, but she turns away from your door. "Well as long as your alright. Let me know if you need anything..."

"I certainly will Ms. Hanover, and I'll try and keep it down. Thanks!"

With one more incredulous look, Ms. Hanover heads back towards her door.

You return to your living room, and instantly regret having left the bottle of whiskey behind.

Amy is straight up chugging it now. It would be downright impressive, if it weren't so frightening.

You rush across the room and grab the bottle, not bothering to be gentle this time. You examine it for a second, mortified how little seemed to remain swishing at the bottom. You furrow your brow and stomp to the kitchen, and proceed to dump the slim remainder down the drain.

"Kriiiiiiiiistennnnnn..." Amy slurs from the couch, and her voice sounds so sad and pathetic it tears at your heart.

"I'm not gonna sit here and watch you drink yourself to ****!" You exclaim, trying to keep any harshness from your voice. You sit on the couch next to her, once again taking her hand in yours. "Sweetie, I am really worried about you... why don't I help you to the spare bedroom, it's been a long day and...."

"Do you think I'm pretty Kristen." She's stopped crying, and now she's leaning toward you. "Cuz I think you're pretty... I think you're soooooo pretty K...." The smell of whiskey is overpowering. You try not to wince. "I've always thought you were soooooooo gorgeous K..."

You go rigid, unsure of what to do.

Amy looks at you through one lidded eye. "So, so pretty..." She breathes, her hand going to your thigh.

"Amy..." You say her name, your mind racing. You place your hands on top of her shoulders. "Your not thinking..." Your sentence is cut off as Amy presses her lips to yours.

The drunken kiss is sloppy, and the smell of whiskey is now overpowering, but for a brief second, you're in heaven. The electricity is real, and a warmth springs to your cheeks that has nothing to do with liquor, meanwhile a fluttering fills your chest, replacing the lonely ache that had set in there. Part of you wishes this kiss could last forever. Your hands grip her shoulders.

Amy runs her hands through your hair, causing your sunglasses to clatter onto the floor. The sound brings you back to your senses.

You can't let things go further than this. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself.

"Amy..." You pull back a little, and Amy pushes forward, trying to kiss you again. "Amy... we can't..." You whisper, your hands now pushing slightly, trying to put some space between the two of you. "*I* can't..." You whisper, trying to look her in the eye.

Amy pulls back, the hurt clearly obvious. "You too?" She sobs angrily, the hurt and betrayal etched into her expression. "Nobody wants me... nobody loves me... not my mom, not my dad, not Brooke... now..." She's too upset to continue.

Amy tries to rise, but she wobbles and nearly falls over the still overturned coffee table. She curses then drunk jogs/lurches toward your spare bedroom, sobbing the whole way.

You watch her go, still seated on the couch. You feel a pit open up in your stomach.

For awhile you just sit silently in your dark apartment, The only audible sound the soft, quiet sobs coming from the spare bedroom. Eventually they too fade into silence.

You tidy up a bit, feeling almost shell shocked as you turn over your coffee table and clean up the scattered shopping bags. How could it all have gone so badly?

You eventually go to your own room, and cry yourself to sleep.