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“You fucked this up, Clark. Big time.”
“You think I don’t fucking know that,” I tell her, before opening Mitch’s door.
“Mitch?”
I find him standing in his bathroom, his face looks almost murderous.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Did you fuck my sister?”
“What?”
My blood runs cold. How would he even know that?
“I said, did you fuck my baby sister? He growls.
“Where is this coming from?” I ask hands up in surrender.
I’m panicking. I’m also trying to backtrack because I have to figure out how to lie my way out of this.
“Why else would my sister be crying because you got engaged? Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”
My heart is fucking pounding in my chest. He’s walking closer to me and I think he might punch me, which is fine because I fucking deserve it.
“She went running into a room, crying about wine on her dress, but that’s bullshit. She was devastated. Fucking heartbroken. What the fuck did you do?” He yells, pointing his finger in my face.
“Mitch, it’s not like that,” I say.
When he swings, he swings hard, punching me right in the fucking face. I give him a couple of punches before I push him off.
“That’s enough!” I roar.
“If you ever so much as walk in my sister’s direction again, I’ll fucking end you. Get your shit out of my house and don’t ever fucking talk to me again.”
This isn’t exactly how I saw this night ending, but it’s what I deserve. You know what they say, play with fire and you’ll eventually get burned. The problem was, the burn never bothered me. I enjoyed the pain.
Now I’ve lost everything.
* * *
Six Months Later
I haven’t spoken to anyone in six months. I haven’t answered any calls. I’ve done nothing but fucking drink my sorrows away. I can’t even count the number of times someone has shown up at my house, banging on the door. Riley, I presume, but I still sit here, just drinking my fucking life away.
I don’t have anything to live for anyway. I’ve even stopped visiting my mother. The nursing home has called several times and I haven’t picked up the phone. I’m afraid they’ve called to tell me she’s gone and I never told her goodbye because I’m too busy sitting here feeling sorry for my fucking self.
I rented out a shit-hole apartment after Mitch kicked me out and my power got shut off three days ago. Thankfully, the water is included in the rent and that’s not due for another couple weeks.
Leaning my head back against the couch I picked up from some second-hand shop downtown, I sigh, taking a drink from the bottle of vodka I picked up at the convenience store down the street. I can’t even get drunk enough to stop thinking about her.
Marley is all I see. I told her that I hoped she thought of me every time she was with someone and it seems I’ve cursed myself because day and night all I think about is the way she tasted.
I wonder if she’s okay?
A couple of hours later, there’s more pounding on my door. Ignoring it, I walk into the kitchen, scouring the cabinets for more alcohol.
“Open the fucking door, Clark.”
