Irish Whiskey - An Ex-Lovers to Lovers Standalone

2

I m o g e n

[23 y/o, 2015, Graduation Ceremony, University of Vermont, Burlington

I moved from Montpelier to Burlington three years ago, but I'm still stuck in that moment as if I haven't taken a step away from the ramp. I have been living that moment in a loop for three years. I don't know how but I'm graduating today.

My phone won't stop ringing but I can't even move my body to turn it off. Every time I open my phone articles after articles pop up about that day. It's been three years but people haven't forgotten about it. How will they when my father controls the media and deliberately circulates those articles during every election to garner sympathy and votes!

I look at my knee down to my ankles, after numerous surgeries, the doctors were finally able to restore my knee and ankle to a walkable condition. I'm crippled for life and it's his fault! If only he didn't exist, I would have won the medal, I would have been at the top, I would have had the power to make my sisters happy, I would— If only- if only he didn't show up that day—

The vase beside me shattered after making contact with the wall across me. But it wasn't enough, I couldn't calm down. For three years I have been carrying this resentment within me, containing it the best I could— I'm reaching my limit. I need to do something before I act on my rage and regret it later.

Not that ending him would ever bring me regret. But my sisters, for them, for their sake I must control myself, I'm all they have, if I leave, they'll be helpless in this harsh world, I can't let that happen.

As I was caught up in my spiral of thoughts, it started raining outside. In an instant, my room was surrounded by darkness. Reflecting my mood. As if the sky was raging on my behalf, it did make me feel better, but I still did not move. I hadn't moved in weeks. I'm sure rust has settled in my bones, rendering me useless.

Maybe it's for the best, a loser like me doesn't deserve to live. Athletes get injured, it's not a big deal. They get up, they always do. But I didn't, I don't deserve to call myself an athlete. I'm a quitter. I'm a loser. I let a mere injury hold me back. I should have gotten back up. I should've—

—but I tried, didn't I? I foolishly denied the doctors' arguments. I denied the fact that I won't be able to compete anymore. I limped to the gymnasium, I went there every day after my rehabilitation, but in the end, I couldn't get back up. In the end, it did more harm than good. Because of that, I'm crippled forever---

—are you making excuses for your weakness? You're pathetic.

—No, I'm not—

—bitches like you are better off dead.

I tried I swear—

—no wonder mom didn't want you—

—Please, no, I tried, no I did get up—

—but you fell, and that makes you a loser, a sore loser who couldn't get back up after a minor setback—

—No—

—and now all she does is make excuses to make herself feel better—

—NO—

—you're better off dead—

—NO—

—you're a burden to your sisters!

NO—

—NO ONE LOVES YOU!!!!

NO—

—EVERYONE DISPISES YOU—