M For Marina: A Larina Fanfiction

FOUR

I woke up to a sunny late morning. Jim was up.
"Hey, honey. Had a good sleep?" he asked sweetly. These periods of kindness are the reason I stay. He's a good person, I know it. He's just going through a lot of shit. The liquor doesn't exactly help, but I know it feels like it does though, I used to think that way. I just wish he'd listen to me.

We met at rehabilitation, when he was hooked on yayo and I was hooked on Jim Beam and Jack Daniels. We shared our difficulties with each other and helped each other through it. We formed a strong friendship, the kind that eventually leads to romance. We fell in love. It made rehab much, much easier. I didn't even think about alcohol in that time. All I know is that it felt like I was living a fairy-tale. We were madly in love. He distracted me from liquor and I distracted him from cocaine. It was perfect. Because of each other, we managed to get out of rehab. We bought an apartment together and he proposed to me. I can still feel that sudden burst of extreme happiness when he knelt down and pulled that velvet box out of his pocket. Then he opened it to reveal the most gorgeous sparkling diamond ring I had ever seen. And it was for me.

But then, one day, one awful day, I saw this chick's lips pressed against Jim's. It still makes me shudder when I think about it, I'll never forget it. He didn't even like that woman, he admits, but that bitch ruined everything. I couldn't stop replaying it in my mind; it was on a constant loop, playing again and again endlessly on repeat.
I paced around our empty apartment. Tears escaped from my eyes as the thought of him possibly cheating on me seemed more and more likely. I'm a horrible fiancé, he probably doesn't care about me any more. He's still out with that girl because he'd rather her company than mine. I'm such a bum. My pacing grew faster and my heart was beating at a rapid speed. I couldn't take it any more. Too much stress. Too much pain. My fingernails dug into the fabric of my clothing. No, I thought. I need it. I need it. We had liquor in a cabinet for guests but we promised we wouldn't drink any. But I needed to. I craved it. I grew a thirst for it, a thirst so strong to deny. It was my remedy to forget about this mess. I grabbed a bottle of whisky and drowned in it.

I couldn't remember anything at all that happened after, I just woke up, naked, with Jim standing near the door, furious.
Once he had noticed I was awake, he shouted, "What the fuck, Lizzy?"
Confused, I just stared at him.
"I want that ring back," he demanded. I didn't understand what was going on at all. All I could remember was that I had the worst headache and I felt like shit.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my words slurred.
"You know very well what I mean, you slut!" he screamed. That knocked the wind out of me. I hadn't even laid eyes on another man...or so I thought. After a round of vicious language and a few slaps, I finally found out what caused this--I slept with his best friend.
"Why the fuck did you fuck Reeve?" he was furious.
"I swear, I don't remember anything!" I was now standing naked before him. Then Jim's eyes caught onto something. His eyes widened. He grabbed the object with anger.
"Why, Lizzy?" he asked, voice cracking, a tear now running down his face as he showed me two or three empty bottles. "Why, Elizabeth, why?"
The thought of him and that girl returned. "I saw you kissing someone," I sniffed.
"Who? Oh, come on, Lizzy! She was forcing herself onto me again. I would never betray you!" he said with clenched teeth.
"I-I, I didn't mean to do it, I swear!" I tried, but it was hopeless. I was the cause for all of this.
"No, just forget it, I need some space."

That space stretched over several years. I started drinking again. That's when I also started smoking, chain smoking. I lost a lot of money. I was in the winter of my life. He was no help any more. I was broke. I made the decision to start pole dancing. I started fucking every guy that wanted me, but, of course, for a price.

Prostitution left me with enough money to live. I thought I was happy, dancing and grinding in the pale moonlight, all for cash, but I wasn't. I had several guys go down on me every night. Sexual pleasure every night. But that pleasure wasn't the cure to my sadness.
I still loved that jerk. I took out my anger on all my clients. But no, something about him wouldn't leave from me.
And then, one day, I was reunited with the man who still haunted my dreams. He was there, at that strip club I worked at. But he wasn't happy.
"Elizabeth?" he asked, mad and almost disappointed.
I ran over to him. "Shh, it's Lana."