Mornings at Duke's (GirlxGirl)

The Player Is Back

Downing straight vodka will still never burn as much as the memory of your lips on mine.

Song: Big Girls Cry/ by Sia

I felt the liquid burning my throat, then my stomach and lastly leaving a faint, bitter taste in my mouth. Did I not felt like dying, puking or just simply depressed? Oh, I did. However I was in desperate need to comfort the hits I had deal with in the last 48 hours, compared to the pain, they didn't matter.

I slammed the glass on the wood, nearly shuttering it in the process. The transparent thing just turned around itself before stopping. I didn't even notice doing so before a girl spoke up.

"Easy, tiger! I would have to write it to your check." The bartender in front of me said, as she wiped some glasses.

I didn't even bother to look up and apologize like a decent human being. She, I supposed, had dealt with these kind of situations more than one on busy nights. She would have to be prepared for 3 kinds of customer.

One being the party animal, the one who usually ends up unconscious on one of the stalls. Their only goal: to have fun. Which, they pretty much succeed most of the time.

Second is the type of people who preferred to not go home alone. Players. It can be either because of they felt like it or just didn't want to be alone. %99 of the time they end up with the same conclusion; walk of shame.

Third... third is the most dangerous type. Even though the part animal can start a violent fight, do something reckless; the player, actually get pregnant, cheat and hurt some feelings... the third was the most dangerous.

The third was me, sitting all alone. It was not hearing a single sound when the whole bar was erupting with noise because of your loud thoughts, screaming back and forward. It was the conflicted feelings, the depression, the sadness, the guilt... cryings and screams to the wet pillow in the middle of the night. It was the unknowing. 

It was drinking till your hands couldn't lift the glass, till you can't sit still, till your broken heart couldn't get more of a beating. And after every sip and shot, still remembering why you had begun to drink in the first place. A never ending cycle.

Not wanting to communicate or even look at others while drowning in your own misery, yet, yet still expecting a person the hold your hand through this dark night, to you. Help you survive one day more.

They were the most dangerous case without a doubt. Because they had no goal, no goal at all beside drinking until they could not function. They wanted their pain to be washed away, their sins to gone from their hands. In the end they all were just fools to thought that alcohol was strong enough to heal the wounds on their hearts, when nothing could heal or fill it beside the creator of it.

"Not the best day for you I am guessing?" The bartender kept talking for some reason that I couldn't understand. I wanted the solitude, the silence. Not the noisy women. I wanted to shrink to my seat, go to a lonely, dark corner. I still wanted to cry after all those lost tears.

"Sure." I dismissed it.  Acting cold almost made me forget that I was the one weak. I was the one hurting. So I held my glass to the bartender.

"Another."

The bartender skeptically examined my situation and stopped wiping the glasses eventually. I wondered if the woman was offended because of my boldness, rudeness. Yet I couldn't give a shit to be honest, but then the long, chestnut haired woman put both of her hands on the table, in a motherly way.

"That would be your 5th." And here comes the lecture, I groaned involuntarily. I was here to get a release and this woman was already giving me headache. I wonder why the world seems to be against me and my life.