nepenthe
nɪˈpɛnθiːz/
noun
something that can make you forget grief or suffering.
*
Everyone needs something to take the pain away every so often, and for him, that was her.
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WARNING: CONTENT MAY BE TRIGGERING.
L A S T G O O D B Y E
*
It had been silent between us since she had entered my room. I knew she knew something was wrong, and I knew she wanted to know what it was. I really didn't want her here. I didn't want to be here.
I was long gone from alcohol, and she could tell by the smell of what I had spilt in the room.
Brandy cleared her throat, her bright eyes shining as if she had something she wanted to say. I stopped her before she could speak, holding on to the image of my younger brother tightly.
"I can't take it anymore, the amount I fucking miss him. How jealous I am of him that he got his place and I was left in mine."
The brunette's eyebrows furrowed, "Who?"
"My brother," I answered simply, my jaw clenched.
"M...Marco?"
I shook my head, "My baby brother. Lucas Valdez. He was just a boy when he died. He didn't realise how lucky he was. He knew how to live life better than me. I didn't even know how he fucking died for so long because my mother erased him. My fucked up mother erased my brother because she was sad. He was sick. That's what she told me last week. Really sick. And then he died. So she destroyed his precious memory."
Her fingers wrung together as she took a shallow and shaky breath, "Lucky? You really think he was lucky?"
"Of course he was. Look at where I'm stuck," My arms gestured to the room we were sat in.
She was so distant as she stared at my door from my bed, eyes vacant and glossy, "You really... Feel like that? Even now?"
"Of course. Living is a waste of fucking time. No one cares about you ever, and nothing you do for yourself or anyone else will ever matter."
She bit her lip as it begun to quiver. I was just waiting for her to leave at this point, so I could run a razor along my wrists.
"Christian," she begun, voice quiet and wavering, "you're wrong-" she reached out to take hold of my hand, but I whipped it away before she could touch me.
I was at my feet now, nostrils flared and glaring at the sweetest girl I had ever met, "I'm not, you stupid, optimistic girl. I'm the only person in the right fucking frame of mind, to be honest."
She fell silent, resting her hands in her lap. Her tongue swiped over her bottom lip as she stared at the ground, "Stupid, huh?" She nodded her head to take in the statement further, "I'm glad to know that's where it ends."
"Where what ends?"
She returned my glare to me, "How much you care about me. What you think of me. You really think I don't get it?" She scoffed, leaving my bed towards my door. Her knuckles were stark white at her sides as she spat her words, "Fuck off. You're drunk."
