Good Things Fall Apart

BAD HABITS

I was true to my word. I haven't tried to end myself despite the empty feeling that I experience every waking moment, but that doesn't mean I haven't tried to fill that void someway. Granted, it was a more self-destructive way. I've been spending my late nights at ransom bars after Rylee goes to sleep. I hired a sitter, some kid that's barely out of high school. Seems like a good enough guy, and he seems to truly like Rylee. At this point, I believe she could get along with anyone.

Anyway, my self-destructive tendencies are the reason I'm sitting in a booth at a random bar at nearly midnight. I don't normally drink when I come here, for obvious reasons, but for whatever reason, I decided to have a few drinks tonight. A few drinks won't hurt anything, long as I don't drink all the time, right?

I've had multiple people try to take me home over the three weeks that I've been doing this, keeping conversations with strangers that I barely know, is more tedious than I thought it would be. But, I guess it passes the time, and I guess things could be a lot worse. I could have been drinking every night, letting those people take me home. I just don't want the one-time thing anymore. I don't want to be hurt by someone I barely know. I don't want to get my hopes up over nothing. Fuck, what is wrong with me? I swear this will be the last time I come to one of these dumb bars just to have some type of conversation with another adult and not a three-year-old or a seventeen-year-old that obviously has the hots for his employer. Yeah, no thanks. But, it probably won't be the last time that I come here. I'm so damn lonely.

Dallon doesn't talk to me unless it has something to do with Rylee or the new baby. It's not like he asks about our other child. Dallon claims it's not even his, that I was sleeping around on him. Well, the accuser is usually the guilty one.

I scoff from my thoughts, rolling my eyes. So what if he cheated? I knew what I was getting myself into when I took him back. But, that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

Matt hasn't even tried to contact me. So, that added to my already fractured spirit. Who am I kidding? Seriously, who could truly love me? My family didn't. Dallon didn't. And I'm almost certain that I was just something to pass the time for Matt despite the things he did for me and Rylee. Maybe that's all I ever was to Dallon?

I've had roughly around five beers - and maybe like - three mixed drinks. I have nothing left to lose, use, or do, so I pay my tab and stumble as the room spins. My nights usually consist of ending alone despite the conversations from the random people that sometimes approach me. This was going to be a fun night trying to make my way home without dying. I could call a cab, but that wouldn't be a good idea either. What if the driver was some mass murderer and I end up on tomorrow's morning news?

I could call Matt and ask him for a ride home, but then again, he probably doesn't want to see my stupid face again even though I haven't done anything wrong. You know what? Fuck my life. Why does this shit always happen to me?

I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I found the name I was looking for, and subconsciously pulled a face. Even in my drunken state, my mind was yelling 'wtf Brendon!'

I sigh and step, more like stumble, out of the bar into the mid-January air. It was a new year and I was stumbling outside a bar like the pathetic and useless human I am. I must be doing something right or entirely wrong from the wolf whistles I revived from a group of men standing in the alleyway. I lift my middle finger and hold it out to them while I walk past, keeping my eyes forward.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in the middle of the night?" I heard one of them and it sounded like I was being followed. Just fucking great. Well, maybe I could feel something for once if I get the life beat out of me.

"Fuck off," I swear my life is truly against me since the other line was finally picked up.

"You just called to tell me to fuck off?" Dallon's voice vibrated against my ear and I roll my eyes.

"No, I - I know you're probably busy with Breezy, " I look at my watch to see what time it is. Nearly one in the morning. "Or sleeping. You know what? Never mind. I'm sorry to have bothered you." I'll just call a cab and flop in bed once I make it home. If I make it home without being tomorrow's worm food.

"No, you called me for a reason, Brendon. You can't just wake me up after midnight and not expect an explanation. What's going on? Are you at home?"

I drunkenly burp before I speak, not even really caring about my pride at the moment. "No, I'm walking away from a bar that I just spent most of the night trying to find some company." Dallon probably thought I was looking for sex or something like that. I just needed conversation, and possibly a little physical connection. Soft touches and smiles. I honestly didn't care what Dallon thought at this point. I'm not his problem anymore and I shouldn't even be on the phone with him, potentially asking for a ride home. I'm not his problem.

I hear another wolf whistle and it was closer than before. Great. I roll my eyes. "And now I'm being followed by a group of assholes. But, don't worry if I end up on the morning news. Maybe. They might not even find -"

"Bren shut the fuck up and tell me where you are," Dallon demanded through the phone and I flinched slightly.

"Why? I shouldn't have called you in the first place. I'm not your problem anymore. Don't know why I did. Guess I didn't want to call a cab and end up with some murder as my driver. I didn't want to call Matthew because I'm sure that ended before anything even started. I haven't talked to Spencer in a year, and Tyler is no longer in LA. So, I guess that leaves you." I say a little bitterly and feel a hand wrap around my forearm. My first reaction was to drop my phone and let my fist make contact with the face that was attached to the bastard, and I do.

"Bren?" I hear Dallon screaming through my phone that was nearly shattered on the concrete, and watch as the man stumbles back, holding his nose.

"Don't fucking touch me, you fucking creep!" I yell and grab my phone, and putting it against my ear before running in the same direction I was headed, to begin with.

"Bren, what the fuck just happened?" Dallon asked after a few seconds of silence. He probably realized I was running by the heavy breathing and panting. I suddenly wasn't so drunk anymore. I felt like I was going to be sick and I did that too, stopping around the corner a few blocks away from the bar, and vomited in the bushes near an apartment building. I'm sure the sound wasn't very charming, but I can't seem to bring myself to care about anything.

I just wanted to go home and sleep for a week, but I knew that would be impossible because Rylee had school. I could always sleep while she's there. I probably won't drink again. ever. I don't know I did it in the first place. It fucks with my antidepressants, not to mention I'd never - Oh - now I remember why I was drinking. Someone offered me a beer, some guy that was keeping my attention for the night, and he just kept adding more and more to the bill - my bill. One beer was never a bad thing and it wouldn't mess with my medications, but I didn't drink. Ever.

I groan, losing my footing off of the curb, and falling on my back. My head bounced off of the concrete. Fuck, that hurts. My vision suddenly blurs and the back of my head felt a little wet. I slowly reach for my and pull my hand around to see red on my fingertips. I look down at my phone when I heard Dallon speak again.

"That's it, I'm tracking your GPS and coming to get you. Don't move, Bren. Just stay there." I heard through the phone that was now laying on the ground a few feet away from me. It was faded, and a little distorted, but I heard it before everything went black.