Taken by the Heartless (HEARTLESS, Book 1) (NOW EDITING)

DRUNK

     It was getting darker, but Eros was not bothered about going home. He sat in the lounge of one of his hostels drinking glass upon glass of alcohol, hoping no one finds him. Javier had called him severally, but he had refused to answer, all he wanted was to be alone. He didn't know why he felt this way and tried to convince himself that it was because of the memory that the therapy session he had earlier sprouted, but deep down in his most secret heart, he knew it was something that Cassandra said to him.

Why was he letting it get to him? Why was he letting her mess around with his head? Was he angry? Was he sad? He couldn't differentiate what he was feeling right there. It was a feeling of frustration, a feeling of helplessness. What was he going to do to make her stop talking to him that way? Violence never solved the problem. His phone vibrated again, he stared at it, Javier flashed on the screen, and he ignored it.

He planned to drink until he stopped thinking of the different ways Cassandra was affecting him. He was tipsy already, but he wanted to drink until he was dead to the world.

"How long will you keep ignoring my calls?"

Eros was startled by the sudden voice. He looked up and saw Javier standing a few feet away from him with his phone still in his ear. He sighed and downed another glass of alcohol. Javier shoved his phone into his pocket and walked up to Eros. Eros ignored him and poured another drink into his glass. Javier studied him for a while, allowing him to down his drink before he spoke.

"What is wrong with you?" Eros shook his head without saying anything. "Why are you getting drunk and refusing to come home?"

Eros looked at him and chuckled. "Home?"

"Yes, home."

"Hey, remind me to fasten you to an X-cross and flog you mercilessly later for pulling that stunt on me?"

"Is that why you are getting drunk? She told me that you weren't ready to cooperate yet."

"She called me the scum of the earth," Eros said, dropping the glass with so much force that Javier thought it would break.

"Who? The therapist?" Eros gave him a disgusted stare. "Oh, you mean, dama of the house?"

"She is no fucking dama of the house," Eros growled. "I am the only master of the house."

"Why are you scared to go home then?"

Eros was quiet for a while, looking uncertain about what to say. "Because...because...I... can't..." He downed another glass. "She said she hates me, and I make her beautiful life ugly and dark and bitter." His voice was slurred now.

"This is not the first time you have been called a monster, or a bad person, or the likes of it, why are you worked up about this?"

"Because it hit differently when she said it!" he yelled then lowered his voice again. "It's different when she says it and I don't know why?"

"Have you considered setting her free? Letting her go?"

Eros looked at Javier and shook his head. "I can't. I am selfish like that." He chuckled. "I don't want to stop seeing her." He poured himself another drink.

"Do you think you have fallen in love with her?"

Eros sipped his drink and shook his head. "No. Love is for the weak."

"So, you are sure this is not love?"

Eros was quiet for a moment, then he hiked his shoulders. "No, it's not love. But I think I care about her."

"You think?"

"Yes, Javier, I don't know what this is. It's frustrating me, alright? It makes me want to strangle and hug her at the same time, it makes me nervous, and it makes me want to send her away, yet makes me want to see her. My mind keeps wandering to her, even when I am doing something else. I have never thought constantly about anyone before. It's strange."