fleur leaves my head in a twister. my fingers feel numb at the tips and my eyes are watering. of course she doesn't want you, idiot. no one fucking wants you.
i drink vodka from the fridge with coke. it's a gross mixture but i just don't want to feel. my eyes sting so i punch a wall. my fist makes a small dent. fucking weak. i try to tell myself to stop throwing a temper tantrum, to calm down, but i'm so angry.
the second the idea pops in my head i try to push it down. call annabel. don't. but somehow my phone ends up in my hand and i'm dialing her number. she doesn't answer.
she calls back seconds later.
"vincent, are you okay?"
"no" i notice how slurred my speech is.
"what the fuck, you're drunk."
"i've been drinking paint, annabel. paint. i want you out of my fucking head, you goddamn bitch."
i hear her scoff.
"fuck you."
she hangs up. i finally get my fist through the wall. no one loves you.
my feet carry me upstairs. it's time, they tell me. time to paint. my anger transfers to canvas. i am god right now, creating my own world. i am in charge of what goes on this painting. this is the only thing i can control.
i scream as i paint. scream and sob with each stroke of the brush. fuck, vincent. fucking bitch.
the painting is horrible. it's all blue. rain hits the roof. today, the sky cries with me. today, the sky knows how it feels. the water jumps to its death and hits me.
shit, when did i get outside.
the water gets in my eyes but i don't blink it out. it's so dark out and all the house lights are off. my hair sticks to my face. fleur walks next to me.
"this is all my fault, isn't it?" she asks.
"it's hers.."
"... and mine."
she leads me inside and up my stairs. she puts me in my bed and sets the vodka on my night stand. her hair drips on me but it's okay because i'm already wet. her lips feel warm against my forehead. she puts her hands on my face, touching my scruff.
"come to jarod's party tomorrow. look for me."
fleur leaves me there.
