One Too Many

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One Too Many by ____eva

Times like this when she had particularly bad days with him, she would drink.

Simply drink until she once again forgot the poisonous words that would leave his mouth, and the painful bruises that would leave his hands. For she had initially learned long ago, that revealing the truth about her monstrous boyfriend or talking back the devil, would only get her back into the crossfires of his lethal tongue and fists. From that experience on, the once loud and proud girl stricken with fiery red locks was broken and forced to her knees in tears.

Her hair had been dyed pitch black and was constantly shadowing away her delicate features from the looming eyes of the world. Her ever so joyful expression once translated into her colourful clothing, thrown away and replaced with a sheathing of cuts and bruises concealed under thick jumpers and hoodies; and the once transfixed wonderment, glazing her beautiful hazel eyes, gone within the very first maligned phrase he had torn her down with. Dull and tired they became.

Her excruciatingly intolerable lifestyle, becoming seemingly endless... her only way out, she thought, was to try and forget. To always forget.

So she drank, bundled up in a small, whimpering ball on the floor of the cool tiled bathroom. Soft sniffles emitting the only sound audible in the small room when there wasn't the obnoxiously loud gulping of her drink. Numerous bottles of alcohol lined up in six-packs by her side, the same bottles always awaiting her interminable thirst for freedom to be quenched. Her unbearable need to run from it all.

An eternal reach for the untouchable; an eternal reach for her shattered dreams to be picked up and mended back together. But a reach that alcohol alone was never enough to grasp.

So close she would always come; so small, the minuscule gap from her very fingertips and the illusive, would shrink to... yet still, it would always be too far a stretch and would forever be without outside help. But that too she was deprived of.

Finally, she became exasperated with the frustratingly simple solutions she was coming up with in her head that she was unable to fulfill; small, yet unconquerable obstacles standing in her way. Unable to handle the tormenting fears and woes dancing in her grief-stricken mind, demons in the very depths of her head. Lacing every waking thought or feeling, awaiting her fear and weakness to envelop her vulnerable body and mind again, so that they could emerge and torture the poor girl just like her boyfriend would. Especially during his particularly violent upheavals.

Her life had become only the never-ending mental oscillation between submission and rebellion. But above all, fear always conquered.

So she gave in to the alcohol.

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Beer, after beer again, she often found herself ruminating about just how her life began to crash down so catastrophically into the nervous, fearful, and traumatic wreck it had become. And how it all started out so perfectly.

She now wished she had been careful about flourishing her former beauty to the world, for now, she was ceaselessly hiding it under the sheets, in terror that he would stumble home drunk that night, eager for some kind of disgusting sexual stipulation.

She drank more and more, hoping that this time, the alcohol would somehow fill the cataclysmic hole in her heart where her dreams were once held, and heal the painful wounds claiming almost every inch of her body.