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By the time I’ve made my way to the front entrance, there’s a trail of bloody bodies, and I feel the coldness leaving me. The bouncer at the door looks at me.
“I’ll call your brothers.” That’s all he says as I walk to my car and get in. I shouldn’t be driving but who the fuck cares?
I get home and it’s dark inside. The silence is the worst. It means I have time to fucking think. Sitting on the couch, bottle in my hand, I flip through the television. My body hurts and my mind is numb. Those fucking green eyes just won’t leave me the hell alone. That’s why I drink so much. If I’m drunk, I don’t have to see them.
It’s not helping tonight. Eyes open or close, my mind won’t let it go. It must stop. Getting up, I stumble to the office. My hand trembles as I try to find a piece of paper and pen. If I can write them a note, they will know I never meant to be a burden. That everything is going to be alright.
Laying my gun down on the table, I begin to write. It will be all over soon enough. As I write the final words on the note, I pick up my gun and cock it. This must stop. If it doesn’t, I know I’m going to bring my brothers down. Barrel at my temple, I keep my eyes open and finger on the trigger. Maybe if I end it, I’ll not have to worry about anything. I’ll be at peace.
“Kronos!” The yell makes me jerk in my seat. My hand slips and the gun drops.
“What the fuck?” The voice comes again, and I feel my anger building.
“Leave me alone. I need to do this. I must get this over with.”
Hands hold on to me, keeping me from getting the gun. “Stop it, Kronos. It’s alright. Just stop, please.”
The voice, oh God, it’s Ayres. I didn’t want them to see me like this. “Whatever it is, we will take care of it. Please, stop fighting us.”
Hypnos comes into view, even as I feel the tears dripping down my face. I don’t cry often. If ever. Taking a deep breath, I find my voice. “I told you to leave me alone.”
“No,” Ayres says as he takes my gun away. “Help me, Hypnos. Let’s try and get him to the bathroom.”
The second I stand up, the vomiting starts. It flows out of me, drenching the desk and my body. My brothers don’t even make a sound as they help me walk to the bathroom.
“We have to get him to rehab,” Hypnos says gently.
“I know. But we can’t take him like this. He must agree to it,” Ayres sadly replies.
“No, he doesn’t. He’s out of his mind and with this suicide attempt, we can get him admitted just to get better.”
“I don’t need rehab. I need death.”
“No, you don't, big brother,” Ayres says gently as they help me down onto the toilet.
My energy is zapped. I can’t form any words or even pick my head up as another bout of vomit comes spewing upward. Hypnos runs his hand through my hair, and I keep my head down. “Please.”
He’s begging me to go get help. I just don’t think I can. It’s an admission of defeat. Of weakness. The voice in my head laughs at me. You were going to kill yourself. That’s the ultimate defeat.
“Fine,” I whisper.
Blurred vision, head spinning, and throw up caked on my chin, I walk through the doors of a place I thought only wusses went to. Hypnos stands beside me, and Ayres is talking to the coordinator, I think.
“It’s for the best, Kronos. You’re sick.” Hypnos is talking to me quietly, trying to reason with me.
I know it’s time. I’ve been drunk for an entire year. Depression is drowning within me. Now mixed with the visions of the green eyes is the vision of my brothers looking at me, helpless, and pleading with me to live.
Chapter Nine
Kronos: Age Thirty-One
Alcoholdrawsmeinevery day. I went through rehab, not once, but twice. The carnage I’ve left behind me is too much to count or to think about. My brothers haven’t given up on me even though I would have left my ass in the gutter a long time ago.
Today I’m at Alcoholics Anonymous telling a watered-down version of my story to these people helps me, but I know the full truth will never come out. I can’t exactly tell them I’m a murderer now, can I?
“Hey man, I’m proud of you.” My sponsor looks at me and shakes my hand as he gives me my one-year chip. I had the twenty-four hour and month chip last time. It’s sad that I now have two of those.
Looking at the bronze chip, I wonder if I can continue to be sober. Every day, I want to lose myself in the depths of numbness. It’s crazy but working with my brothers helps. However, the dreams of the green-eyed girl never go away. My therapist said I don’t want it to go away so therefore, it haunts me. I call bullshit.
