Karen was drunk, and you knew it.
You knew she'd had a problem before, getting drunk damn near every night when the day was over, but it had never impeded her during the day. Ever since Sean's death, ever since the terrible things that have been happening in camp, she hasn't been able to help herself. She wasn't the same fun-loving Karen anymore, the one who acted like she never had a worry in the world, she was miserable, and mean-spirited.
But you couldn't really blame her.
It was so easy to look at her and see her as some silly drunken blonde, the life of the party, just a caricature of a person instead of a real life human being who felt more than just one emotion. Karen had always had worries about this lifestyle, she had always struggled with who she was and what she really wanted out of life, but there wasn't often anyone willing to listen to her. You'd heard that side of her come out more than once, the real, more authentic her, but she always seemed to be shot down, or someone would jokingly ask if she was drunk (during the few times she actually wasn't).
You try to hide the booze from her but there's always someone who gives in to her, or a stash somewhere else that she manages to break into. It's nearly impossible to keep her from alcohol and despite trying to talk to her about it, nothing has changed. She stays drunk, trying to numb her pain when all she's doing is making it worse by not dealing with it. She was going to kill herself this way, if this didn't stop.
"You're... the only good thing left in this world, you know?" You try to ignore her drunken drivel, arm wrapped around her waist as you carried her back to your own sleeping area. You had decided to cut her off before she completely blacked out that night, and the only way to keep an eye on her was to bring her to your own bed, making sure she was asleep before you could sleep yourself. She doesn't resist, much to your surprise, though it's been quite a task trying to get her to your bed. "Don't... Don't ignore me! You know how I feel about you, right?"
"I do know, Karen." You sit her down, helping her smooth out her skirts before sitting beside her. "You've confessed to me at least three times today."
"But I- I mean it. I really do."
"I wish I could believe you." You turn to her with a frown. "But how am I supposed to, Karen? Maybe if you said it to me sober it'd mean somethin', but you're... you're always drunk now. Ain't nothin' you say make any sense anymore, so sorry if I don't believe a damn thing you got to say."
"Honey..." She mumbles, inching closer to you, close enough so that she could lean her head on your shoulder comfortably. "Love you... so much..."
It hurt to hear her say it so much, especially considering you know what she had with Sean. To come running to you after his death, to try to fill the void in her heart that he must've left, stung. You wanted to believe her, you wanted to be able to say 'I love you, too' and kiss her and love her and take away every ounce of pain she was feeling, but you couldn't let her play you. You couldn't let her play herself, either, by thinking she loved a person just because it might make it all hurt less.
"Go to sleep, please."
"But, I, I want you to know-" The last word is drawn out and slurred as she falls back onto the bedroll, making herself comfortable.
"Please, don't say you love me. Please." You were so tired of hearing those words, so tired of knowing you weren't worthy of them and that she doesn't love you like you want her to, like you need her to. But you'd still take care of her, you'd still be here for her, as long as she could hold herself back from proclaiming her love every three minutes.
At this point you didn't know how to help her.
When the sound of her snoring hits your ears you know it's safe to get comfortable and sleep yourself, taking one last look out over the camp. Everything was disheveled, not as it should be, and there was barely anyone hanging around with each other. Everyone tried to stick to themselves these days unless they went out, and even then, you can tell that not everyone is getting along as well as they used to. It really felt like the death of a family, and you don't know if you could blame Karen for wanting to become a drunken mess. Who would want to be conscious and deal with any of this?
As you lay down you take the opportunity to lean over and press a kiss to her forehead, quick, not lingering, and regretting it immediately afterwards. She smiles in her sleep and whispers something, it almost sounds like Sean's name, but for your own sake, you ignore it and pretend you heard nothing. As your eyes slide closed you finally have to say it out loud, even if it made you sick to your stomach; you had to be honest with yourself, and with Karen, even if she was fast asleep and wouldn't hear anything you said.
"I love you, too, Karen. But we just ain't meant to be."
That was all the ghost of a memory now, the gang long gone, as was all the friends and your old crush. You hadn't kept up with any of them for years, not now that you had a family (a lovely woman who had left an abusive husband, saving herself and her two kids from an awful future). You were lucky, you think, to be so loved and appreciated by someone you also loved, unable to forget your one-sided affair at camp that had led to nothing but your own heartbreak. You wished it all could've been different, you wish you could say Karen was still on your mind, but you had been determined to move on, and had done so.
You hadn't thought about her in years, until you received a letter.
"What's that, darlin'?" Your wife asks, glancing at the letter with healthy curiosity. It's signed by Tilly, and you're too nervous to open it, handing it over to Charlotte who's more than happy to look. "An old friend, how sweet! Oh, but..."
"But what?"
"I guess an old friend of yours... passed away." She gives you a look of sympathy as you take the letter, reading it over and over, finding yourself becoming numb with each line.
You couldn't be happier for Tilly, who had a family now, a normal life and was living well. You were proud of her for achieving such a thing after being in gangs most of her life, and you wished her the best, despite the other awful news included in the letter. Karen had died, young, from the drinks finally catching up with her, a fate you knew would be coming some day if she didn't stop. You remember those nights she fell asleep next to you, you remember the nights where she was blacked out at camp, you remember the days where she'd fight with anyone who tried to tell her she had a problem... and no one had managed to get through to her. And now she was dead.
You place the letter on the table, requesting to be alone as you sit outside on your porch, staring into the starry sky.
You're not sure how long you're out there, stuck in your own thoughts, wondering if you had just stayed with Karen or took her with you, if things could've been different. Could you have saved Karen from herself, or was she doomed from the start? You felt selfish for having left her to her own devices, but you couldn't just baby her the rest of her life, you couldn't watch her slowly kill herself the way she was anymore. It had been weighing on you more and more, day by day, and had been one of biggest reasons you'd left the camp without telling a soul.
You might not have thought of Karen Jones in a long time, but tonight, you did, and you missed her.
Charlotte joins you outside after a few hours of you being alone, sitting beside you and placing a hand on your leg. You look over at her and appreciate her, appreciate her for loving you properly, and for giving you happiness you didn't know if you deserved. Leaning against her, you finally let out a deep sigh, knowing you could never properly explain why you were drowning in sorrow. You couldn't pinpoint it yourself, either, but knew there was no point in trying to make sense of emotions.
Wherever Karen was now, you hoped she was at peace; you hoped she knew she'd always have a special place in your heart.