Chapter 9

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I take a glance at my bruised knuckles and at the mess I made in the wall. I shouldn't have done that. But I am completely out of myself right now and I don't think that anything could surprise me anymore.

I didn't even stay for the dance anymore. I simply grabbed my keys and drove the fastest I could to my house. I remembered I was all alone and I screamed. My God, I screamed so fucking loud, but not even with that the buzzing in my mind went away.

All it can seem to do is to replay that damn scene over and over again. I let out a deep breath and look at my hands again. They are a light shade of purple and I know that they will get much worse, but I don't seem to give a shit.

I take this shitty tie off and throw in in the floor along with the rest of my clothes. I need a cold shower. I walk to the bathroom and open the sink of the bathtub and let it fill up.

When it's completely full, I get in and lie there for an hour or so. I don't feel relaxed as I thought I would.

I get out and go to the room to dress myself.

The scene of her kissing him back is driving me insane. Fuck, I need to take this off my mind.

I put on some boxers and a pair of pants. I look at the walls in my room and they are filled with nothing but old pictures of us together.

A sudden attack of rage takes over me and I brutally take some of them from the wall. I want to rip them, God, I want to fucking rip them, but I don't because she is so fucking aesthetic in every one of them and doing that would be like ripping a masterpiece and even though I'm stupid, I wouldn't be so pathetically idiotic to do that.

I look around my room and in every corner, there's something that reminds me of her. I slide down the wall and for the first time since I could remember, I feel like fucking crying.

And I do. And I hate it.

I force myself up the floor to the kitchen. I need to get out of this miserable state I'm in. But she is everywhere right now. She is fucking killing me and she isn't even here.

I look throughout the cabinets in search of something not even I know what it is, but I find nothing.

I feel like punching a wall once more, but my knuckles are hurting, but not more than the fucking ache in my chest. I look in the balcony drawers and find a bottle of vodka.

The temptation is strong. It's so fucking strong and I am a mess so I just stop thinking.

I want to get her out of my mind.

I want to get him kissing her out of my mind.

I want to get everything out of my mind.

So I open it. It smells like heaven.

Even though I'm alone, it's gonna be a long night and I sure and hell would enjoy to not be present for it.

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