𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐾𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝒓𝒐𝒓𝒚, 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Rory Mickelson's pov

13 years ago....

I had got the worst news of my life I had found myself wandering into a bar, I was twelve years sober...and yet it would all go downhill from here as soon as I stepped into the bar.

"It's..cancer. It will get worse over the years unless we perform this surgery immediately" the doctors words echo through my head, replaying like a broken record.

Cancer, lung to be exact. I had never expected me to have it, but I knew it was just how life was, things took a turn and I wasn't mad at anyone but cancer as if it was a person. I wasn't exactly close to my family, so I knew they wouldn't really care much for me having cancer, it was me against this whole thing and I had prepared for the worst and the best.

Stepping inside the Bar, I look everywhere and find it mostly empty and head towards the counter, already having my mind made up. Going down this path...I wasn't coming back from it.

"What can I get you?" The older man from behind the counter asked me, a smile etched onto his face.

Turning beside me there's a older man slumped heavily in his seat, his back hunched over as if he was sick. He was dressed sharply though, brown faded suit with leather shoes. His hair was thick and black, a curly mess around his shoulders. His face had a scruffy and unshaved beard, patches missing from sides of his face. His eyes were droopy, heavy bags underneath his eyes. He looked like...a professional pile of shit and judging by his smell he definitely felt like it.

"Whatever he's having" I nod to him and he nods back, grabbing tequila from a bottle besides him. He grabs two thick glasses and sets it Infront of us both, pouring the alcohol torturously slow into the glasses. Even seeing it made my mouth water, the years of that missing taste of alcohol suddenly hitting me back so quickly the smell was almost overwhelming.

"I got it, it's on me" the man spoke beside me and I nod, grabbing the glass and swirling the liquid inside the little glass cup, many regrets flowing through my mind.

"Thanks...you celebrating or something?" I asked him and he nodded, smiling weakly as he turned to face me completely.

"I won a case today".

Judging by his look I wouldn't have guessed, by the fancy clothes I should have guessed because not many people wear suits to a bar.

"To that then" I click my glass with his and take the glass to my lips hesitantly, before chugging it down quickly, the sting not affecting me whatsoever. I close my eyes as I let the alcohol take a warmth over my entire body, closing my eyes.

"Finally put those fucks in jail" he added, slamming his glass down.

"Someone's got to, police aren't doing their jobs like they should be" I scoffed and he shakes his head, nodding for the older guy to add more into his glass.

"Doing their jobs for them...pathetic".

I nod, tracing my finger around the glass.

The older man refills our glasses and hands it back to us both which I take graciously, holding it up to this stranger once again.

"To success."

"To success."

Clicking glasses, I chug the tequila down, the burn warming my body once again. I had neber been the type to just completely start conversations with strangers but him in particular it was easier and I didn't want to be rude so I continued to talk and offer an ear for him since it looked like he needed it.

"I'm Charlie" he held his hand out and I shake it firmly, introducing my name to him as well.

"Nice to meet you Rory. I never see you in here, first time?" He peered at me, his interest piqued.

"No I uh...I was sober for twelve years. I found out I had cancer so..here I am" I spill out and his eyes widen, completely taken back.

I didn't intend to spill out my business..but I was no longer in control of myself, the tequila felt like my driver, controlling everything I did at this point.

"Shit...I'm sorry to hear that. Can I tell you a piece of advice I got from my mom about cancer?."

I nod, not that I needed it.

"Just because life throws you a curve ball, doesn't mean you quit the game, it means you strike harder" he wasn't talking clearly anymore, practically sluring his speech. He suddenly bursts into laughter and I chuckle, realizing he was just messing with me..or maybe he said it wrong I wasn't sure.

Hours flew by, and I was driving this practical stranger home. Everything felt like it was moving so quickly, it felt like a date between me and a woman, taking her home for some fun, or however people called it these days.

"Here" Charlie swats my arm and he's lucky he's drunk, I would have slugged him if he wasn't.

I park the car outside a practical mansion, a huge house right in the middle of these other beautiful houses. I hadn't realized Charlie lived in such a rich neighborhood, it didn't necessarily make me feel self conscious it just made me wonder why he would buy this if he lived alone.

"This one?" The house was see through, the glass windows giving everyone outside a peek through the surfaces, a huge living room with what looked like tons of space even just downstairs.

"Hmhm" he mumbled, half conscious.

So many questions ran through my mind but I didn't ask any, it wasn't my business. I had known lawyers got paid, but this shit was ridiculous. All of that space in that house for one guy?

Then I see it, the front door is suddenly yanked open and someone runs through the front door, a little girl, probably around the age of eight with a little brown teddy bear in her hands.She had met my eyes and there I was, carrying this unconscious guy on my shoulder while a little girl had her eyes on mine the whole time.

Then she let out a ear pitching scream right then and there.