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Brody tosses back his head and laughs as if Mark told the funniest joke in the world. I don’t find either of them particularly amusing. “Lighten up a little,” says Brody. “Enjoy yourself.”
At that moment, I look toward the house, into the windows, seeing an empty kitchen and no Adrien. I should go and check on him, see if he’s all right. I should put this drink down and go home, prepare for my session with Dr. Forrester. I stare into his windows, praying for Adrien to come out, needing him to act like my knight in shining amour just this once. I haven’t felt this weak in a very long time, not since Lucas found me when I was getting my face beaten in with a baseball bat.
However, Adrien doesn’t come and my fingers open the can, my hand lifting it toward my lips. The bitterness enters my throat, washing over my tongue and down my throat and it feels like absolute heaven. It’s been so long since I’ve had a beer. It’s been too long since I let go, and I know this is bad, but it’s also so very, very good. I chug my beer like it’s water, like it’s the only thing that matters. My fingers crush the can, and after every last drop has been taken, I throw it into the grass and look around, already needing my next one.
“Hey!” Brody shouts while slapping my back. “The party is just beginning.”
I chuckle, unable to stop myself, already feeling the dizzying effects of the alcohol going through my body. “You down for some flip cup,” I say while nodding toward the group standing near the food table, setting up a new round.
***
I don’t know how many beers I drank. I don’t even know what time it is, only that someone is helping me get into a cab. I chuckle when I bump my head against the roof. That will probably hurt in the morning, but I feel nothing now. The beer took all my pain away and I feel as if I’m floating.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to see you home?” someone asks. A man. I squint my eyes, recognizing the voice, but I’m seeing five of everything.
“Nah, I’m fine,” I slur while leaning my head back against the car. “There’s an elevator. I just stumble in there and I’m home.”
“All right, if you’re sure.”
My head bobs up and down, and I groan, my stomach lurching. I can feel it trying to crawl its way up my throat. It’s trying to escape me. Either that or all the booze I drank. I press my fingers into my temples, not bothering to buckle my seat belt as the door slams shut and the car moves forward. I don’t even know if the cab driver is talking to me. Everything seems to be blurring together into one massive blob. Images, sounds, smells, everything. My eyes close and I sigh while curling closer to my corner of the car, allowing the darkness to take me deeper within its clutches.
“Sir!” someone shouts while patting my face lightly.
A breeze chills my skin and my eyes blink open. I see someone standing above me, looking both concerned and frustrated. He looks around, running his hands repeatedly through his hair before facing me. “Are you okay to get home? Should I call you an ambulance?”
“No,” I groan while heaving myself out of the car, holding on to the door and the hood with a death grip. The street isn’t busy. The entire town seems dead. No one is walking on the streets and the only man besides me and the driver is a homeless man sleeping across from me outside of a bank. “I’m fine.” I reach into my pocket, fumbling to grab my wallet. It keeps slipping back inside. “How much do I owe you?”
“It’s already been paid for,” says the driver while stepping around me. I stumble backward, farther into the road as the cab pulls away from the curb. I watch the taillights drifting away for a moment, enjoying the bright lights and how pretty they look in a city of darkness. It’s like all the light has been sucked away, leaving me in a sea of black.
I teeter, nearly pitching forward. My eyes struggle to remain open. I focus on moving one foot forward, then the next, until I find myself walking down the sidewalk, toward the bright red lights. Usually, this walk takes me five minutes. Now, it’s taking forever. I feel like this road will never end, that I will be on it forever and ever, and I have no clue where it will take me. My hand slides against the brick wall as I desperately keep myself upright. I can’t fall asleep here. It’s too cold.
But isn’t my apartment behind me?I wonder.The driver dropped me right outside. So where—
I look up at the bright red lights, my mouth falling open as I slowly take in the letters. “L,” I begin while tracing the letters with my finger, “I, Q, U, O, R.” The door dings and a man pushes past me on his way out. I catch the door with one hand, but I don’t move. Is this really what I want to do? Do I really want to go into a liquor store and destroy everything I have been working so hard for?
You’ve already destroyed everything,a dark voice whispers inside me.Why not go further? Everyone will hate you no matter what you do. Why not make yourself happy?
I’m too weak at this point to ignore the voice in my head. My feet take me inside. The light is so bright I have to squint as I make my way toward the large shelves filled with vodka in front of me. I grab two immediately, not caring how expensive they are, not caring about the taste, only needing to drown out that dark voice and the misery inside me. On my way to the counter, I grab a bottle of rum. My fingers slip on the top and I pitch forward, catching the bottle quickly before it goes smashing to the floor. I chuckle to myself. I don’t know what’s so funny. Is it the glory in having fallen so hard after trying so hard? Or is it that I am making a fool of myself in front of the cashier? I don’t know anymore.
The cashier raises an eyebrow at me as I step forward and I chuckle again while setting my treasures on the counter. “Dude, are you okay?” he asks, not bothering to ring up the bottles between us.
“I’m fine,” I slur while batting a hand at him. “Just having a party, you know? I live about five minutes down the street.”
The cashier’s eyes flick to the bottles and then back to me. I can’t quite tell if he’s a burly fellow, or if my eyes are broken. I keep seeing two of everything. Pimples speckle his face. He can’t be any older than twenty-one, so why is he lecturing me, his elder?
“You’re not driving, right?” he asks while reaching for one bottle.
“Me, drive?” I laugh while pointing at myself. “No. Like I said, party down the street. Don’t worry.”
Ring up my fucking bottles,I want to add, but I bite my tongue. The cashier moves slowly, his eyes flicking up to me, his brows tented in worry. Why does he care? Why is he judging me? He works at a fucking liquor store, for Christ’s sake, while I am an NFL star. Who’s the loser? Him. Definitely him.
“That’ll be fifty-one dollars and seventy-nine cents,” says the cashier after putting all my bottles into a brown paper bag.
I seize my wallet from my back pocket and grab my card. Part of me is surprised I still have my wallet.See, you’re different,says that dark voice.You can drink. You’re better than last time.A shiver runs down my spine as I recall Jerry’s bloodshot eyes and Drew’s cruel smirk. I will never be like that again.
As soon as I have paid, I grab the bag and briskly walk toward the door. My heart pounds in my ears, my steps swerving, having issues walking straight. I quickly make it to my apartment and nearly run to my door, throwing it open. I grab the first bottle and chug, loving the feel of the burn sliding down my throat. I gasp, inhaling deeply, tears running down my eyes, and I have no clue why. I chug again, grimacing at the pain. My vision blurs and I barely have time to set the bottle down on the counter before I tumble to the floor. I nuzzle my face against the tiles, enjoying the coolness against my cheek. My eyes slowly close and I vaguely remember I was supposed to have a video chat appointment with Dr. Forrester.
What will she say?I think darkly while my eyes close and the darkness consumes me.
