Fractured Hearts

Chapter 4

Wiping the tears from my face and taking a deep breath I impulsively push open the door to the closest pub I could find.

The dim lights blur into streaks of neon red and blue, the pounding music rattling my chest like a second heartbeat.

A group of men fills the bar, their laughter a low rumble that hangs in the air.

I can feel their eyes tracking me like I'm a lost lamb wandering into a den of wolves, their gazes sharp and calculating, assessing my every move.

The way they lean against the bar, arms crossed and smirks playing at the corners of their lips, sends a chill down my spine, and I instinctively shrink back.

I stick out like a sore thumb, dressed in light-washed jeans and a white sweater while everyone else wears dark colours that blend seamlessly into the shadows.

I've never known the taste or feeling of alcohol, but I decide on the one thing I've seen scattered across the house too many times, and it seems to work for Mum. "May I have three shots of Absolut, please?" I say to the bartender, my voice slightly shaky as I try to project confidence.

The bartender looks at me, scrutinising my features. "I'm gonna need some ID," he says, his tone firm.

Crap, I completely forgot about ID. "I—I forgot it at home, but I promise I'm 21," I lie, aware that I look younger than my actual age.

At 19 years old, I still have the height of a 12-year-old, which certainly doesn't help my case.

He studies me for a moment, his expression sceptical. With a disapproving shake of his head, he turns away, leaving me sitting there, heart racing.

"Please," I beg, desperation creeping into my voice before he can fully turn his back. "I've just had a really hard day, and I need something to take away the pain. I promise I won't cause any trouble." My words tumble out in a rush, each one tinged with urgency.

He hesitates, standing still as if weighing my plea.

"I'll just take my shots and leave straight after," I add, giving him my best puppy eyes, which probably just look puffy and red from my earlier tears.

Plus the raging scrapes on my cheeks are definitely enough proof of how my day's been

After what feels like an eternity, he gives in, a reluctant sigh escaping his lips as he starts pouring the clear liquid into three shot glasses.

As soon as he places the glasses before me, I down the first one as quickly as I can.

Somewhere deep in my mind, a voice whispers that this is a mistake, but the burn of the vodka in my throat drowns it out.

I force myself not to cough, trying to keep the heat from the alcohol at bay.

How does Mum even drink this stuff?

A wave of sadness crashes over me like a relentless tide.

I wish she loved me. I wish she noticed me.

With those thoughts swirling in my mind like a storm, I throw back another shot, the liquid burning as it slides down my throat, momentarily drowning my pain.

Before I can reach for a third glass, a rough hand yanks me from my seat, sending a jolt of shock through my body.

My heart races as I look up, locking eyes with a familiar pair of piercing green eyes that stare at me with an intensity so fierce it nearly makes me almost scream.

No, no, no. Why is he here?

Is he going to kill me?

The thought races through my mind as I brace myself for the worst.