Bad Choices

nine

Late night thoughts: I've never wanted to hurt someone so bad before.

I swing the door open and than close it behind me. It's dark but I don't bother to turn the lights on. Instead, I stumble into the kitchen.

Mom isn't home.

I open the cabin under the sink and lift a bucket. And there it is, a bottle of vodka my mom have tried to hide from me.

I snag it and don't bother to close the cabin, I just crumble up on the cold tile floor. Leaning agains another cabin and take a gulp of the strong liquid, burning my throat.

Than I don't hold back anymore. All the tears starts to stream down my face and I sob and sob and drink and cry. It hurts like hell and it's like I can't take it.

So I scream, I scream on top of my lungs, so loud my face turns red. So hard my lungs empty of air. And when I can't scream anymore, I throw the bottle at the wall across me. It shatters and what's left of the vodka splatters on the walls.

I regret that decision right away. Not because I have to clean up or because it was destructive and wrong but because it was the only thing that could ease the pain. And I ruined it... just like I ruin everything.

Frustrated and tired and mad I crumble up on the floor and cry even more, until I don't think I can anymore.

So I tear the kitchen apart.

I scream and open all the cabins. Shatter plates, make boxes fall, punches the walls until my knuckles bleed.

I need more alcohol.

So I walk out of the ruined kitchen and out the front door. And there is Cleo standing. And she runs to me, hugs me so tight and even though it should be impossible for me to cry even more, I do. I cry in her arms, mumble un hearable things and she answers in shooting mumbles back. Saying things like "I know" and "it's going to be alright" as she strokes my back. But I think she's crying too.

And I think she doesn't believe her own words either.

***
I wake up on the couch, the disgusting mustered couch with holes and down sutten pillows.

Confused I look around. It's light out so it has to be day.

My head is pounding with a growing headache. I try to rub the sleep out of my eyes. My cheeks dry from all the salty tears.

I feel like shit. I feel like actual shit and I can swear that if I went to the doctor they wouldn't find a heart in me since Harry ripped it out.

That's when I notice Cleo, sleeping in the floor next to the couch.

Why is she on the floor?

Carefully I try to go around her sleeping body without waking her. I failed.

"What are you doing?" She mumbles her eyes still closed.

"What are you doing on the floor?" I whisper scream for some reason.

"I was sleeping on the couch but man you are not a easy person to sleep next to." She grumples and sit up. Arching her back.

"I'm going to make some coffee and take a pain killer." I mumble and walk over her to the kitchen where I prepair some coffee and drink down the pain killer with some water.

The kitchen is a mess. I'm very careful where I put my foot down since there is shatters glass and porcelain all over the floor. Nothing is in order and it looks like a tornado has been in here.