LUCIOUS & COOKIE: TUG OF WAR II (REMASTERED)

THE MAN IN THE MIRROR

Lucious

All alone in the confines of this big ass house, my house, the house that was once my family's home but is now nothing more than cold stone, placid brick, and expensive marble to me quite honest, I feel as if I'm suffocating. 

Making my way through the halls from my bedroom, I slowly trudged along in my black silk robe and matching slippers, my first Christmas Eve without my family in nearly a decade and I honestly just don't see the point of this shit anymore ya know. 

I've honestly not felt this lonely since my very first night on the streets...I was so scared, but as I laid underneath the Lyon statue that next day, the statue I found myself drawn to the night before...I felt safe for some reason.

Slinking along, my cell in hand, while passing Laylah and the twin's rooms as I make my way downstairs towards the family room I huffed. My eyes barely hanging open, they feel heavy and just a bit dry but that's okay cuz nobody's around to see me this way regardless. I gave the entire staff the past couple of days off and none of the family has called me yet either, although Dre and Keem sent me text messages stating they'd call me tomorrow. Thinking that Mal might bother to hit me up ain't even an option at this juncture, I'm sure.

The echo of my three youngest children's laughter filled my ears as I lurched forth from the bottom step, I've been hearing what sounds like their voices a lot lately and it's driving me crazy as hell because I really miss them. 

My body feels like it weighs a ton as my feet drag along the cool marble floors of the main foyer, I slowly made my way into the family room as the only light pouring in from the fireplace flickered and glowed around the place. Millions were spent decorating this space, but now, despite how warm and full of life this area had once been, it's now full of nothingness.

It was in this room that my life as I know it, everything I love and hold dear, was rocked and changed forever the night that Cookie walked outta my world. So, it's only fitting, that this is where I end up tonight as I firmly wrapped my hand around the pitcher of Bourbon from the bar at the side of the room then plopped down on the sofa facing the main hallway. 

My eyes searched the eerily silent space surrounding me, I lifted the pitcher to try and pour myself a drink cuz drinking is the only thing that clouds my mind enough to keep me from constantly thinking about them, but my hand is trembling terribly, so I took a deep breath to try and compose myself and refocused.

The tremors have been back at full force and only growing worse over these past couple of weeks or so...but that doesn't really matter much either, my mind shouted, as I lifted the pitcher once more to try and pour myself a drink once again but, yet again, I can't and I find myself stuck because my hands just keep on shaking. 

I leaned back into the plush cushions of the sofa, then abandoned the glass idea all together, and just brought the entire pitcher of liquor up to my mouth with both hands so that I can control it and not spill the entire contents of the crystal container all over the place. Downing a huge gulp, my head tilted back, and a heavy sigh escaped my lips as I shut my eyes.

Instantly visions of my mother flashed before my eyes, my mind flooded with one of my last memories of her before she died, and I couldn't help but inhale another gulp in preparation. She's been on my mind a whole hell of a lot more these days, this ever-growing emptiness and despair that's invaded my spirit, these constant feelings of hopelessness that have consumed me more and more with each passing day.

I wonder if this is the way she'd feel during her numerous bouts of severe depression when I was a boy...that voice in my head probed. I wonder if this is why she felt she had no choice but to end her own suffering that day she shot herself before my eyes.