Victim of Circumstance | UNDER RIGOROUS EDITING

Chapter 26 - Woes & Disclosures Of The Promenade

||Pius||

I know I shouldn’t be feeling like crap. I know I shouldn’t be enraged, jealous and broken. I know I shouldn’t be fuming with rage, ready and willing to obliterate everything and anything. I shouldn’t be feeling like a part of my heart was rip out or more like battery acid was poured on it. I know I shouldn’t be feeling any of it. Anything at all but I can’t help it.

It hurts more than I thought possible. More than I could bear.

It’s all my fault. And I know that but seeing them… I hate him. I hate her. How could they?

I blink back the tear that nearly escaped, taking a sip from the whiskey in my hands. I bask in the burning trail the drink leaves in its wind. I close my eyes and take another sip, wishing for something stronger. Something that can incinerate everything in its path. All my troubles.

I stand up and wobble up the stairs—something that comes off too ATP consuming—in search of my father’s secret stash. I make it up until the top after a lot of struggles. I find my way towards my dad’s room on my shimmying legs. Reaching the room, I slowly edged the door open making sure not to wake my dad. I try to tiptoe inside but stumble into something as my legs give out on me. I freeze into place as my father starts moving in his bed. I take in a bated breath praying to God, my father doesn’t catch me sneaking into his room. I don’t want to subject any stress on him. He’s already too agitated and him finding me in his room at this hour of the night in my drunken stupor will create problems. Problems I can’t deal with right now because all I want to do is get drunk as fuck and forget all shit that’s weighing me down. I just want… no need all of these to stop. I need the pain to cease. I want to have control over my life. I want to be happy. To laugh, to smile and just having a normal life every normal person without the shit I got myself into, always finding a way to drag me down.

A sigh of relief escapes my lips as my father stills in his bed. The subtle sounds of his snoring can be heard shortly after. I don’t take long to retreat into his walk-in closet and retrieve the forty percent whiskey bottle I saw stashed away between his clothes. I don’t care if he finds out. I don’t care whatever happens from now out. All I care about is depositing all and every potent alcoholic liquid I can put my eyes on into my system.

Finally making it downstairs after a lot of scuffle, I flopped onto the L-shaped couch, immediately screwing the lit of the bottle open. I take a single gulp that inflames my throat into a consummate inferno, coughing hard as my body acclimatizes to the potency of the intoxicant.

I pick up the half bottle I left on the coffee table before I went searching for something stronger and take a sip from it too. I gulp it down and lean my head against the couch with a heavily tormented sigh.

So this how my father felt than. How it all started and I’m going down that exact same road. At least for him it was somehow justifiable. He lost someone he loved dearly. Someone who he would’ve done anything to have back. Mine is something different because she’s not dead. No. She’s a living breathing individual whose life I had done nothing but wreak havoc upon from day one. Someone who I hurt intentionally and now that the repercussions of my doings backfire, I can’t handle it. I can’t bear the pain. And at the same time I don’t know what to do to ease the pain as well? That’s why I seek refuge in the comfort of inebriants.

My heart sinks deep into my gut as the image of them kissing flashes through my mind. My girl and my best friend locking lips. One of the two most important people in my life betraying me.