Red devil

CHAPTER 3; DADDY ISSUES

DeAndre

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I woke up to the sunlight burning through my eyelids. I left the curtains open again, thats what being stoned everyday does to you.

I stood from the bed and made my way down the stairs of my apartment, my body halted as I thought back to the man at the poker table last night. Today marks 5 years since my mother died and the day, I turn 21, its the only day I try to skip out on the alcohol and drugs.

I took slow strides to the basement, a tear slid down my cheeks remembering her cold, pale, lifeless body lying in my arms.

I pushed open the door to the basement and approached the old box sitting in the corner slowly.

I fell to my knees as I tore the lid of the box open, frames from all different places we went. our precious memories.

I killed her, a blood-curling scream flew from my lips as I sobbed into my folded knees.

I sprung from my sitting position I cant, I- I cant I sobbed and swayed out of the basement.

I stumbled to the cabinet where I kept the drugs in the kitchen, tears blurred my eyes. I tore open the bag, I drew a ten-dollar bill from my pocket and rolling it like a blunt and sniffing a line from the kitchen counter.

I screwed open the bottle of whiskey and down it.

I swayed and stumbled to the couch with a laugh that sounded more like a pained cry as I remembered how she stuttered over her words as blood flew from her lips.

Feeling the urge to throw up, I stumbled to the bathroom. I hunched over the toilet, emptying my stomach of nothing but alcohol.

My head spun and vibrated, my vision darkened, and my body fell limp on the bathroom floor before I faded into the depts of the darkness.