I saw a drugged/drunk girl lying on my bed in my bedroom, and the guy who had brought her home. I hated that guy, I hated his guts, but I didn't have a reason to.
The girl lying on the bed was someone I loved a lot, perhaps my sister or a very good friend. Her habits did hint towards such an outcome, but I could never have foreseen the present moment. She did get drunk once in a while but drugs...
The guy standing in front of me, I interrogated him severely, and his prompt answers to all my questions did suggest I should thank him for bringing her home to me. I only wish I knew who did that, how all that happened.
That guy and I did, and still resent each other. But he was ready to help in whatever way possible. I wanted to appreciate his help, but was too perturbed at the moment.