Two Worlds Distanced

Chapter 102

EZRA

I continued driving towards her house, until seeing my knuckles almost turning a pale white like a ghost. It's from trying to keep myself cool and calm and not let myself anger inside me. When witnessing my strong girl, she's filling her pain with drinking to push her problems away like I do. I shake my head to a version of myself in her right now, filled with weakness, and whiskey, she's usually all smiles and sunshine. I'm the one who pushes people to survive their own problems themselves and drink from them. It's the way of my type of therapy rather than actually therapy.

Whiskey and tequila is the therapist who didn't tell you nonsense advice you didn't take. Whichever strongest drink solves the strongest problems. Yet the tables have taken their own turning way.

"Please stop the car," she yells out before I can even pull over. I forgot how our childhood house is completely different. Her house is coming out of a house magazine when mine was from a junkyard of the smell of cheap beer and weed. Rachel doesn't think twice about getting out of the car and slamming the door. The same door that still needs to be fixed. I begin chasing after her especially since she's starting to walk funny from all the alcohol sinking in her body and doing her best not to — I was right, she fell right down on her butt onto the icy sidewalk, "Rachel?" I trust her, grab her by the arms to lift her up, and she turns around with rosy cheeks and watery eyes.

"Rachel, What are you doing?".

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm going in there to get some answers," she utters out and I shake my head, "I understand you want answers that you know deserve but drinking and walking in there all drunk isn't going to help," I tell her as holding her face between my hands that are warmer than my heart. My heart is cold hearted like Jack Frost you would say. Rachel has sadly carried my trade of drinking problems like I have in the past, "Really? You are really to self pity me about not drinking problems away? I don't need it. Look in the mirror and give yourself those talks," she screams loudly that her voice is almost shot.

I rub my hands over my face, "I don't mean it that way. I mean I understand what you are thinking about. It's the same thing I was when seeing my father. I got that truth but it was still—" the next second she hardly shoves into the snow, "I don't care. I need answers," she pointed a finger at me before running into the house.

This isn't going to end well.

I rush into the house, towards Rachel yelling at her father who is sitting in the couch in the living room.