I’m not really sure how I ended up with her sprawled next

I’m not really sure how I ended up with her sprawled next to me, drunk, driving down the road at midnight in my old, beat up, Toyota. Don’t get me wrong, I remember everything, I’m not one to drink. But of all people that could’ve been grossly drunk in my car, Faith Starling was one of the last people I would have expected. I mean sure, she was usually at these parties that I went too but she’d never been like this. She had always been more of a mystery to me, a gothic, amazingly beautiful girl that seemed always to be walking in the shadows with her head held high. Loved by some and hated by others with little room for the in-between. It wasn’t until this very moment that I realized I never really saw Faith as a person. She had always been a figment of my imagination until now.
            “Miles, you’re driving too fast…” she slurred, giggling. “You should be a race-car driver… Vroom vroom.”
            “I’ll have to look into it. Now try to get some rest honey,” I replied, glancing at her slightly.
“Okay Mr. race car driver. Nighty night!” Her body went limp as her breathing steadied and within an instant she was out.” I sighed and let a small laugh escape my lips, trying not to dwell on the night’s events. For her sake I hoped that she didn’t remember the night when she woke up. Hell, I almost wished I was drunk at the moment. I could only imagine what it would feel like for her to wake up and be forced to remember. Thinking of what could’ve happened if I hadn’t stumbled into the dark bedroom while trying to find some quiet space; if I hadn’t found her with Bobby Jackson’s hands holding her down and attempting to undo the button her pants. I hoped that she wouldn’t remember the way that I pushed him off of her and the way she bit him, causing him to slap her and push her defenseless body to the ground. This wasn’t the type of thing I wanted to be the hero for because this wasn’t the type of thing that should be happening in the first place.
I wished I knew where she lived. That way I could bring her home and maybe give her more of an opportunity to banish the memories from existence. But instead I was forced to pull into my driveway at 11:27 p.m. and carry her fragile body up the creaky wooden stairs into my bedroom. I was grateful that my mom had cleaned my room earlier in the day as I placed her body under the covers. For a moment I debated where I should sleep. I had originally intended on sleeping on the couch downstairs but then I realized that it would probably best if I was there to tell her where she was when she woke up in the morning. So I groggily dragged my beanbag from the corner and curled up under a throw blanket on the floor.