It consumes my entire body making my legs numb. The heartbeat accelerate, the breathing shortens. My eyesight becomes blurry. Small pearls of cold sweat are rolling down my neck. As I grab each side of the tiny eggshell coloured sink in the kind of violence that leaves me a bit edgy, I lose it. IT, being my mind, everything I believe in, my faith in humanity, my sense of pride….my core values for fuck sakes! I see red. The memories are flowing back and forth in my drunken mind. The rage fuels me.
I stare at myself staring back. Empty, I obsess. The background is fading. Fading into a black hole so deep that I wish it would suck me in. I haven’t blinked for what seems to be days. My bloodshot eyes, greasy hair and probable bad breath are screaming non-sense. I let go of the sink with one hand and manage to stumble my fingers around to grab the Whisky straight up on top of the toilet. As I bring it closer to my mouth a clinking sound becomes louder and I bluntly stare at the transparent glass trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with the picture.
Ice. I fucking hate ice! What kind of fucking sissy drinks diluted Whisky anyways? Who the fuck did she think she was to put ice in my stupid drink when she was fully aware I NEVER drink it that way. Oh what the hell, I mean, she was blowing my best friend before my eyes not long ago. On the fucking front porch of all places! That’ll teach me to go out of town on business. What a cunt. What a bitch. He’s a motherfucker, sonofabitch! Fucking douchebags! Assholes! What kind of horrible monsters does it take to do that to someone? He’ll never sing for us again. She can shove the ring down her throat and choke on it.
Without much thought I gulp down the liquid. I stand paralyzed, feeling the smooth rusty heat racing down, embracing my insides with a soft blanket of blurriness. I manage to walk somewhat straight towards the door. The glass still in my hand, I try holding on to whatever appliances I can find within reach.
A loud thumping sound surrounds the air followed by an unpleasant high-pitched voice. I glance at the door while the glass slowly slips from my hand. Its content explodes on the bathroom tiles, leaving shattered glass, broken ice and a couple of drops of Whisky at my feet. What a waste.
She manages to get in. Fuck. I just wanna smash her face against the shiny white bathtub she bought a few months ago. Paint it red with her disgusting, cheating blood. Fuck her. Fuck him. What a fucking friend you are. What a great girlfriend you are being.
Wow. She’s screaming at me. She is so close; I can smell her dick breath. You whore. I stare at her big tits shaking as she gestures violently with a smirk on my face. She hates when I have that expression. She’s aware I don’t give a fuck.
I wish I didn’t. She doesn’t need to know that. I want another drink. Why the fuck is she screaming at me? What is she saying that could possibly so important at this moment? Not even paying attention to her psychobabble bullshit I push her aside. I stumble away thinking I need more of the sweet poison to block the bitch out.
I get to the kitchen feeling brave with the bottle of J.D. in hand. She follows, handing me a plastic cup that I refuse by slapping her wrist away. She stays silent as I she watches me pour down the alcohol brutally into my system like it’s water.
Everything becomes a blur. I feel the weight of my body dropping on what I assume is the kitchen floor. Flashes of coloured lights, music, tits and ass dance around me. Red. It’s everywhere. Lights. Screams. Lights. It spins.
Then everything stops.
She left this morning with all her stuff – and a few of mine. She left me her retarded cat and the toaster that barely works. How am I supposed to make toast with a broken toaster? My head feels like it got hit by a train. My whole body aches. That cunt is gone – with half my social life and self-confidence.
I pick up my guitar and the half emptied J.D. bottle and head out for the front porch. I light up a cigarette. The smoke surrounds me and vanishes into the morning sunshine. I sit there cigarette in one hand, the J.D. bottle in the other and the guitar resting on my lap. 8:33 AM. Fuck. It’s too early. I roughly remember last night. I finish off the bottle and the cigarette and start playing. The soothing melody calms me down.
Once in a while I wake up feeling completely out of place, almost like I have grown out of something. I can never quite figure it out. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and I notice the similarities between myself and who is standing in front of me but as much I try relating to this new stranger; I can’t. Closing my eyes I wrap my mind around the thought that everything is okay. Everything will be. Everything was. Nothing is. Sometimes people are full of surprises. Sometimes they tend to do things they can’t explain. Sometimes certain people lose touch with their own reality. I think she will forever pay for what she did to me. I, on the other hand, will move on. Killing her was the best compromise we could ever agree on.