Unforgivable Lacerations

Chapter Ten

I started to pick up the glass from the floor and turned the table back over. My body felt heavy as if I was carrying myself underwater, but I carried on moving- somehow. After I had finally cleared the living room, with all the picture frames' glass gone and only remaining the wooden border around the pictures, I threw the glass in the bin then went under the stairs to Charlie's drink.

I never thought I would be a drinker, I once tested some whiskey- as a dare- and had spat it back out again in disgust. I was twelve. But now, in a time of need and a longing for comfort, I made an exception- again. So when I reached the cupboard I went to the half drunken bottle of Jack Daniels, which I hadn't finished from the previous night, and screwed it open. I didn't bother with a glass, too desperate for the feeling of numb, and drank it carelessly straight from the bottle. The burning sensation it made down my throat was welcomed with opened arms, it was a start for my physical pain matching my emotional.

Two days.

Two days I had been sitting in the same place, wearing the same clothes and hardly ever getting up. The exceptions would be either when I collected the letter, about identifying the bodies, from the mailbox, getting another bottle and going to the toilet- to vomit mostly.

Throughout the two days, I didn't feel human at all. I felt empty as if I had no purpose to carry on anymore. The sound of Mom's voice on her answer machine helped, though, most of the time. It was as if I wasn't controlling my own life like I was playing a role in a movie- not real. Fictional. 

I was sober- for a change- after sleeping off the alcohol, it was just past noon and I needed to get myself together. I couldn't wallow in grief and self-pity for all my life, I had to get off my backside and do something, anything, to distract me at least. However, first I needed to go to Seattle to identify the bodies. Seattle was the nearest place to the crash they could take them. Apparently, Phil and Mom were on a deserted forest road when it happened, it was a shortcut to Forks, and the driver was heavily abusing cannabis. The driver's reactions were too slow and before anyone knew it, the damage was done.

The bastard of a guy was alive, though, barely. But still alive.

With a motivation, even though it was small, I got up from the couch and quickly stretched. I then started with the closed curtains, yanking them open and turning to the coffee table, which was surfaced with many, many bottles. "This is your life now Bella. Suck it up," I murmured to myself when an intrusive wave of emotion flooded through me again. I collected the bottles and put them in the recycling, before opening the windows to rid the house of the stench, and went to the kitchen to get something to eat.

I hadn't eaten anything in the past two days. Not a single bite. Why? Because the drink filled me, even though drinking on an empty stomach wasn't the best idea, it helped particularly when my vomit wasn't lumpy. But without the drink, I was starving, as I was now. I was really hungry. The alcohol was out of my bloodstream, leaving an empty stomach making grumbles. 

Therefore, I cooked a simple meal of chicken and eggs and took it to my room, feeling better in the confinements of the familiar four walls as it was like nothing changed in this room. Charlie had owned the lounge and the kitchen, since every time I went in there, I was expecting Charlie to come through the door. He never did, though. In here it was mine, as neither of my parents really came in here; the only person who did was Edward- but those memories of him in here gave me the opposite effect from downstairs and Charlie. With Edward it was a chilling feeling, like frost biting at my skin, reminding me that he was here before. Whereas, Charlie and Mom were like fire, melting my skin around my bones, producing only a mess on the floor. 

Casually, I placed the dishes in the sink, reminding myself to wash them later as I climbed the stairs for the bath. Anyone could imagine the revolting smells that were being unleashed from me; smells that had gathered in the two days, building in density until it became unbearable.