Inverse Chronicles

|Mylo| Chapter Four: Alcoholism and Its Consequences

[TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: SELF-HARM, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, ATTEMPTED SUICIDE,  ALCOHOLISM]

Mylo's POV
MARCH 23, 4290

The bottle above me rolled and crashed to the floor, shattering into hundreds of miniature pieces. Scaring me awake. My eyes fluttered as I scanned the dirty room. Bottles lying around me, some almost empty and dripping onto the floors. I noticed I was laying in a small pool of blood too. The source dripping from the fresh wounds on my arms. 

What the hell happened? Did I pass out? And where the hell did these injuries come from?! I groaned, sitting up and pushing away half-empty alcohol bottles. Rubbing my head as I stared at nothing. Every single thought came back to mind in a matter of a second. Right... I passed out after drinking from a mental breakdown. The twelfth one this month. If only I could remember what started it and how I got these cuts.

I ran my finger over the largest cut, it was deeper than I thought. They strangely don't even hurt. I scratched my head, realizing how greasy my hair is. I desperately need a shower. The image of the ground was practically burnt into my sockets, it's all I ever stared at. I didn't want to get up but I stumbled up onto my feet, staring at the mess below. Bottles scattered about, making the air smell purely of whiskey. No matter how much I drank, I never felt better. All I noticed was that I was gaining alcohol weight. 

I'm getting fat, I can't believe how incompetent I am. I'm ashamed of myself. I lost my perfect body. I walked to the sink to wash my face, spreading cold water across all the crevasses of my dark bleak skin. The mirror in front of me was in pieces as if someone punched a hole into it. Bits of glass hit the ground every second.  But from the cracked pieces left, I noticed I'm growing somewhat of a beard.

  It looks a little ugly, I need to shave that off. Though the razor might be broken too like the mirror. I wouldn't be surprised if everything is. Upon exiting the bathroom and entertaining the living room, photos that were originally on my wall faced the floor. Photos were either ripped or stained in a red liquid. The glass shattered in every particular direction, some pieces oozed with blood and bits of fur. The blood had made small puddles near each other, some even connected from it leaking out for hours. It appeared right out of a murder scene, except it was missing the body. 

Now I remember what happened and where I got these stupid-looking cuts. Man I sure had fun, didn't I? I fell right into the comfort of my couch, the stench of alcohol filling my nose. Every day it got harder to get up and take care of myself. Always indulging myself in drinking my life away, any chance I got. Drinking made me feel okay and didn't remind me of the horrors of reality. I eyed the calendar as I was scratching the cuts I made aligned on my arms and noticed the date. 

MARCH, 23.

It's really been three months since Viyra died. Time really goes by fast when you're wasting it with alcohol, smoking, and harming yourself to get rid of the pain of losing the only thing that mattered the most. I sighed, the negative emotions taking a grip on my mind. Tucking myself into a ball. I think I'd feel a lot better not being here anymore. I'm so useless. I'm sure this will help Richard and the rest too, they wouldn't miss me anyway. They'd be better off without me. I'm just a burden. It's probably why Finn and Richard both left me in the first place. I'm not important to either of them anymore. I threw myself off the couch and rummaged for something in my bag. It was an unloaded pistol that had been taking up space in my bag. 

I haven't used this since practice a long time ago, a final shot practice sounds nice. Might help me feel better. I shoved it in my pants pocket along with a single bullet. I grabbed the jacket that Viyra gifted me for our anniversary. I should put this jacket to use for her. I stepped out of my room and froze at the front door.