The Mistake

Chapter 5- Coping

Josh POV

My body froze as the words left my dad's mouth. She was dead. She was fucking dead. And it was my fault. If I hadn't listened- if I had just gotten her some fucking help like she needed then- then none of this would've happened.
"Josh-" my dad called, his hand brushing my cheek, catching the tears I didn't know had fallen. "It's going to be okay-"
"It's not." I sobbed, pushing away from him. "Leave! Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT!!" I yelled, pointing at the open door.

The second I was alone, tears fell from my eyes unwillingly as I rubbed them away. Do it. The voice whispered in my head. It'll make the pain go away. You'll be numb. Stuff it. Subconsciously, I reached under my bed and pulled out a box. Opening it, I picked up the bottle of whiskey I stole from my dad. Drink. Drink. Drink. Drink. It chanted in my head. And drink I did. A quarter. Half. Three quarters. Empty. Numb. It felt nice. To feel nothing.

Without realising what I was doing, I picked up my phone and dialed the number. I needed release. And I knew I would get it. I was there within minutes.

Our lips pressed together, moving in sync. Before I knew what I was doing, our clothes lay in a pile on the floor.

***

"Fuck." I groaned as I woke up. My head pounded as I stood up, reaching for the pills beside my bed. Swallowing them, I waited for the pain in my head to leave. As soon as I could think straight, I let my mind wonder back to last night. I had gone to a party again. Got drunk. Probably slept with someone. And then no doubt got kicked out. That's how it normally runs with these types of things. PING. Ugh. Who's messaging me now?

Hey, party at Oscar's tonight @9pm, you in?

Good. Maybe I can even convince Zach to come. Who am I kidding? He won't speak to me anyway, not since the incident. He's probably killing himself after what happened. He needs to let loose. After all, she's not coming back. She's dead. She's not coming back. Ever. Because I refused to listen to her. She needed help. I just fucking ignored her. I didn't think he'd actually do it. I wasn't his fault, though. I listened to her. She needed help. Not someone to- to stab her. I'm such an idiot. All because I was too wasted to think.

Count me in, I'll be there. I'll try to convince Zach to join.

I know. I know. I shouldn't go. But hey, I'd rather get wasted than sit in a spiral of my thoughts. They're deadly. My mind was in two halves. One screaming at me to carry on destroying myself. The other screaming me to stop. You can guess which side I'm listening to. At least then I can block out the voice yelling at me to stop and that it's my fault she's dead. Even if they're true. Plus, some girls at this party were good.

I know what mum would say. She would be disappointed. She would want me to be with Zach, comforting each other. She never got to meet Lily. She would have loved her, I know she would. She would probably yell my head off for what I did. What I'm doing. But she's gone.

Ugh. I don't want to fucking think. I want to feel nothing. So, I chugged. I chugged a whole bottle of whiskey. Ah. That's better. Now I don't have to feel anything. Now I'm free. Subconsciously, my hand moved to the draw. And then they lay in my hand. Stumbling, I reached the open window. Lighting the cigarette, I put it to my lips, letting the familiar sensation washed over me as I stared into oblivion.

"Josh, buddy, are you in there?–you need to come out buddy, you can't live in here forever-" I tensed at my father's voice. I know he's right, but he can't see me like this. He'd be so disappointed in me. "Josh, if you don't answer, I'm going to come in." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Think Josh. Think.

Quickly putting out the cigarette, I clambered into my bed so I could pretend to be asleep, praying that I wasn't too loud.

"Josh, I'm coming in," my dad called as the door clicked open. I lay motionless on my bed, facing the wall so he couldn't see my face. "Buddy, you asleep? It's lunchtime. You need to come and eat something. It'll help with the hangover-" wait, what? How does he know I'm hungover? He doesn't even know I went to a party. "Josh, I know you're not asleep. I'm leaving lunch on your desk. Eat it when you want," he explained before I heard a plate being placed on the table and the door shutting. "Love you Josh."

What the fuck. How did he know I was hungover? Was I that loud? Shit. He's going to find out that I'm going tonight. He's probably so disappointed in me. I mean, who wouldn't be? I practically killed my best friend's girlfriend. Blocking my thoughts out, I turned over, ready to fill my empty stomach. I spot the plate, meatballs; My favourite. As if on cue, my stomach growls. Slowly getting up, I made my over to the desk and devoured the meal, savouring the flavour. It was gone is seconds, just like her life. What is fucking wrong with me? I couldn't even help my friend. I was a failure. I couldn't do anything right. Having enough of my thoughts, I light another cigarette and lose myself again. It doesn't take long before my eyes droop from the lack of sleep last night.

RING. RING. RING. Ugh. I was trying to sleep. Who wanted to call me now? Oscar. What the hell did he want? Shit. The party. Scrambling to my drawer, I grabbed the nearest clothes and pulled them on, not caring what I'm wearing as I'm only going to get plastered, anyway. RING. RING. RING. Oh, my fucking God. Can't he leave me alone for 2 seconds? Accepting the call, I listen to him rant on about the party and question why I'm not there while making sure my pillows arranged, so that if my dad comes in he thinks I'm asleep. Abruptly hanging up, I snuck out my window before tiptoeing round the side gate and onto the main pathway. Keeping my head down, I cut through the alleyway and within minutes was at the house, ready to lose myself.

I walked in, music blaring, lights flashing. It was home. Subconsciously, I made my way to the bar area. One drink. Two drinks. Three drinks. Free. I was free. The music took over as my body swayed, dancing from one girl to the next.

"Josh, where's Zach?" a voice yelled over the music.

"I'll call him now." I replied, reaching for my phone and pressing his number.

"Hey man," he spoke into the phone.

"Hey bro, where are you? The parties just getting started." I asked, shouting over the noise.

"Do you not remember what happened the last time to a fucking party?" I may be drunk, but I remember and I don't think I will ever forget.

"Yeah, and Lily would want to have fun-"

"Don't say her fucking name." He growled.

"Why not? She's dead. It doesn't matter now." Oops.

"You don't care that she's dead?" He was super pissed.

"I don't give a shit about her. Now, are you coming to this fucking party or not?" I did not mean to say that.

"No." I don't blame him.

"Good, you can't ruin my mood anymore. Goodbye Zach. Never talk to me again." I hung up.

Oops. I did not mean to say any of that. That was the alcohol talking. Of course I still care about her. I can't get her out of my mind. She's in a coma. They don't think she'll wake up. She didn't make it. She didn't make it. She killed herself. She left you a note. SHUT UP. I down another drink. I'm here to forget about her. Both of them. Before I knew what was happening, I had ended up in an empty room with some random girl. Prefect. Time for a fun distraction. Our lips connected, moving in sync as I pressed her against the wall. Trailing kisses down her neck, I cheered silently as she let out a soft moan telling me that was her sweet spot. Keeping my lips there, I smirked as she continued to moan, obviously happy. Slowly, my hands made their way to behind her back to unzip her small red dress, not really caring if she wanted me to or not. The moans were my answer. Her hands then landed on my trousers and she began to strip me. This is going to be so much fun.

It was anything but fun. I've never met someone so bad at it. I had done it quickly and then left the party without a second thought. It was disgusting. I mean, it worked as a distraction, at least. I forgot about her. Even if it was only was for a bit. After all, I'm never going to forget her.