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I need today to be over. It’s gone on far too long. I’ll take a fifth of whiskey to my bedroom and drink until I pass out. Tomorrow will be better. It has to be. I know from experience.
It’s been five years since I lost my will to live. Each year on the anniversary of my life ending, I think it will get better. I plot my revenge thinking this year it will be different. This year, I will finally kill them all for taking my life from me. But instead, I realize I have a tiny bit of life left in me when another piece of it is taken.
I slam my front door, not caring if I startle Michi. He’s used to me coming home angry. He knows not to linger today. He’ll be hidden away in his room. I’m sure he made dinner and left it warming in the oven as always, along with a new bottle of whiskey.
I head to the kitchen. I don’t care about the food, but I need the whiskey.
I exhale when I see the bottle of whiskey on the counter. If I didn’t have the bottle, I wouldn’t survive another second. I smell the chicken warming in the oven, but it makes my stomach churn at the thought of food.
I snatch the bottle off the counter as I stomp to my bedroom, loosening my tie as I walk. In a few more minutes, today will be over. I’ll have drunk enough to wash my memories into oblivion. And I won’t wake until the sun has risen.
I throw my bedroom door open as I kick off my shoes. All I can think about is getting the bottle of whiskey into me as fast as possible. I unscrew the top and lift the smooth bottle to my lips, tilt the bottle up, and begin gulping the liquid, feeling it burn down my throat and welcoming the feeling.
When I lower the bottle though, the pain is still there. I glance at the amount of liquid I drank. Almost a fourth of the bottle. It’s going to be a long night if that amount did nothing to make me numb.
I take a step forward and stub my toe on the corner of my bed.
“Fuck,” I curse, as I toss the bottle of liquid against the wall without thinking.
The bottle shatters as the liquid sprays everywhere in the dark room.
“Caspian?” a tiny voice asks gently from the bathroom.
I close my eyes and grab my head. I forgot Gia was here. Usually, she is all I think about when I’m working. Her breasts bobbing up and down as I push inside her. Her swollen lips begging for me. Her raspy voice as she comes at my command. I can’t get her out of my head on a normal day.
But today is different. Today, Gia didn’t even exist.
I can’t handle her today. Not today.
I should call Adela and have her take Gia to her house. Or tell Michi to take her to a hotel. I need Gia anywhere but here.
I walk to my ensuite. The door is cracked, and the light peeks through the bottom of the door into the dark bedroom. I never bothered to flip the lights on.
I open the door and step from the darkness into the light of the bathroom. Gia is sunk into the tub with bubbles dancing on the surface, hiding her gorgeous body from me. A candle
is lit sitting on the ledge near the tub, along with a glass of red wine and a book.
My mind goes back to the first time I bathed her in the tub. And for a split second, I think I want to join her in the tub and then fuck away the dark memories clouding my mind. It won’t work though. The memories will remain.
When Gia looks up at me, she doesn’t look afraid. Her eyes are big, but more out of concern than fear.
“What happened? I heard a loud crash,” she asks her voice calm.
I ignore her question. She doesn’t need to know I just threw away my only hope at getting any relief tonight. Hopefully, Michi stocked the liquor cabinet well, and I can find another bottle to drink.
“You need to leave,” I say, staring down at her nipples piercing through the bubbles.
She narrows her eyes as she takes the glass of wine off the shelf and brings it to her lips slowly.
“Leave?” she asks calmly.
Her calmness is annoying me. I’m not calm. I know she can feel the rage emanating from me. Her eyes tell me she knows exactly what I’m thinking. She always knows what I’m thinking. It’s the weird connection between us I can’t understand. Like we’ve known each other for a lot longer than the few weeks she’s been here.
“Yes, leave.” I snatch the towel off the hanger and hold it out to her, assuming she will stand and take it from me.
Instead, she flicks her big toe up, playing casually in the bubbles.
“What happened?”
