Burns

11.

Eye bags. That was what adorned my face-heavy ones to be precise. Dark red circles weren't left out. I hadn't slept in two days and the stress and tension in my body along with the constant headaches, were killing me. I badly needed sleep.

I locked my door and made my way to the kitchen to drop my grocery bags. Bill had paid me via bank transfer and he had added extra dollars to my actual price. Talk about generosity. I had discovered yesterday night that I was out of kitchen stock and made a mental draft to restock in the morning.

I yawned while pulling out the beautiful bottle of whiskey along with a bottle of vodka, from one of the big bags. I pulled the hood away from my head, gently taking the hoodie off my body. I took off the nose mask next and dropped it on my hoodie which was neatly placed on the counter. I brought my attention back to the bottles on the counter and grinned. I needed a fine mixture of a strong concoction so I'd get knocked out. Perhaps then I'd be able to sleep.

I began arranging my items in the fridge and around the counter. I still had a lot of money left and I was going to turn it over to my account created solely for my savings. My survival here needed all the money I could get.

Looking pleased with how alive and stocked my kitchen was, I took out a glass and made my way to the living-room and threw myself on the couch. Sighing tiredly, I clicked my tongue dryly and picked up the TV remote.

I scrolled through the channels till I found an interesting documentary on lions. I rarely watched TV, I found it to be a fine waste of time but today, I just felt like indulging it. I opened both bottles one after the other, and poured myself a mixture. Sniffling a little, I downed the glass impatiently.

I haven't been able to sleep since the incident with Brecley. Not only the kiss and the bliss it brought to me, also the hurt way that she looked at me, haunted me. And just like that my attention drifted from the preying lion on my screen.

I hadn't said anything to her the next day when Bill was ready to drive back to Arlington and I felt like a jerk because she gave me those expectant eyes of hers yet I still didn't say anything. I watched her leave from the window.

Sighing, I remembered that I was yet to send a reply to any of her texts. Fuck. I poured myself another glass and drank to drown my misery and rough state. I was fighting battles in my head and could you believe that I was losing to myself? Pathetic.

I had tried to construct a message for her but I always ended up clearing it because it never made pure sense-the words. I shouldn't feel like I hurt her but I did and it sucked that she was the one trying to get a hold of me after my loss of control, whereas it should be me.

Sniffling-I was beginning to feel like a junkie about to sniff some shitty coke with the constant sniffling-I gulped down the third glass. To make it worse, I couldn't work. My previous desperate attempts in wee hours of the morning to face my laptop failed because I came out blank and uncoordinated. At this point, my frustration knew no bounds.

My head was spinning and the heaviness increased. My heart rate became fast and the beats louder. The alcohol was working, I knew it. I was struggling to keep my eyes open, the sleep I desired was well on its way-exactly what I was hoping for-when my phone blared with a buzz.

I sniffled yet again and picked up the phone, bringing it out in a lousy attempt to see the caller ID. Giving up, I accepted the call and brought the phone to my ear, "h-hello?" My foggy voice spoke,

"Hey... How are you?" Her voice held breaks in between. Breaks that I found seductive and entrancing. In the few moments I've spent with her physically, I've grown to like her voice; It made me actually enjoy listening to her talk.