angst [bts]

Bottles ||V

My eyes stare vacantly at the dark green bottle hanging between my fingers as the dismal glow from the lamp, sitting on the small end table next to me, dances off the glass. My mind is fuzzy and my thoughts are hazed as I absentmindedly lift the bottle to my mouth and down whatever is left. When nothing passes through my lips, a violent surge of anger rises in me. An exasperated scream escapes me as I stand and throw the empty bottle at the wall. What am I doing here? Here, in a dark and dusty motel room with nothing but time and alcohol on my hands. I guess the more important question would be why; Why am I here?

I stagger towards the small mini fridge in the corner of my room and grab another dark green bottle from inside. My body can't take anymore of this, but my mind is telling me to take one more sip; Just one more sip and maybe, if I'm lucky, it will kill me. After all, I'm already dead on the inside. The feelings that I've kept bottled up inside of me tore me to shreds and now there's nothing left.

I stumble back to my seat but don't sit down immediately. Instead, I find myself caught in the whirr of noises coming from outside my room. Cars honking angrily at one another, the occasional blare of a siren, and the distant hum of city life. All the noises seem exceedingly loud, and I let out a cry of vexation as I bring my hands up to cover my ears the way a child would while watching fireworks as tears begin to fall. I just want it to stop. I just want everything to stop.

Once I've calmed down, my eyelids droop as I fall back into my chair, my fingers working on the cork to the bottle. After a few minutes of struggling, I smash the neck of the bottle against the end table out of frustration and raise the now jagged and sharp end to my mouth. The glass cuts through my skin with ease as the metallic taste of blood mingles with the strong alcohol in my mouth. A fervent sense of drowsiness overwhelms me as I swallow the disgusting mixture of liquor and blood.

A wave of heat floods my body as I take yet another swallow of the drink. My forehead shimmers with sweat as my breathing slows to quick, shallow huffs. I don't want to be here anymore; I don't belong here. I've received nothing but pain and ridicule from everybody in this wretched world, and I've finally had enough. All of those things that I never said became sticks of dynamite inside of me, and all it would take is one match, one tiny, incandescent flame to burn me to the ground.

My eyes, now glazed and glassy from the amount of alcohol coursing through my system, glance down at the broken bottle in my hand. I don't try to fight off the sudden sense of sleepiness and I let my eyes close, the bottle falling from my hand and shattering as it hits the floor. This is it. This is my flame.