blue

XVIII

Ashton's POV
***

Her note hit me like a smack to the face. It made me realize how much I love her and even more so, how much I miss her. It's only been four days and it's already sinking into my skin like memory foam sinks down when you press into it. It hurts, a lot.

And that's why I'm sat on my kitchen floor staring at the wall full of alcohol across from me. I wasn't going to do it, I wasn't going to drink until I forgot her but the pain was starting to become something more than just pain.

So, I drank one. The first glass is sweet, the feeling of relaxation trying to spread wider and wider and as the alcohol makes it's way through my body, I smiled a little brighter for the shortest second. The second glass is even better, I feel like I'm starting to bloom. Saying things I know aren't true, such as 'everything is fine.' The third glass feels heavier, although it goes down twice as fast. A certain longing starts to burn as I feel a familiar itch in my throat. Then it became four. This glass is far more bitter. I didn't want to go any further because after the fourth glass comes the aftertaste and it reminds me of her; bittersweet.

When I fell to the floor I drank even more and even after that nothing has changed, I still love you. No matter how many times I end up in this situation I will never stop loving you.

I let the burning liquid flow down my throat and the sweet smell of vodka fill my nose. It wasn't enough though, I still felt the ceasing pain in my chest.

So, I drank more.

It's now 2am and I have taken seventeen shots of vodka just trying to forget your name but the only name I forgot was mine. Whether I'm sober or drunk, you're the only thing on my mind and I hate it. I still hate that you did this to me and I hate that your death may be the cause of my alcohol poisoning even though you promised not to leave me. 

I drink until I'm numb but despite the burn I tasted and the dizziness I felt, my own thoughts  are the only things that get me fucking wasted.

"You," I said to myself as I took another shot of vodka, "You should have loved me the way I loved you. You should have cared. You should have ached like I did when we said our goodbyes. But you didn't, and that," I paused for awhile, "that is why I am stuck in an endless void called my own mind."

I knew she wasn't listening, but I truly wished she was. Maybe she was watching over me and regretting her decision right now. God, I hope she does.

I took one more shot, this time of tequila. I promised myself it was the last one. I closed my eyes tightly and let my intoxicated brain think of Melia in full form for the first time since she's been gone.

I stumbled to my bedroom, the clock now reading four twenty six, and I collapsed in my bed. I was slowly dosing off, simply awaiting tomorrow's regret, when my phone began vibrating against my bedside table.

Private Caller

What private number would be calling me at four in the fucking morning, my clouded head wondered.

I was too drunk to think things through so I pressed accept and held the phone up to my ear. Well, more like my cheek because my coordination is extremely poor right now.

"Hello," I slurred.

"Good morning sir, I'm sorry to be calling you so early. Is this Ashton Blue?"

"It is I. To who may I owe this pleasure?" My words were barely words now and my head stung with each movement.

The person on the other side of the line laughed, not sure if I was drunk or groggy or all of the above and replied, "I'm Officer Blake. I'm currently at the hospital where Melia Cronshaw is located and she has requested me to call you and let you know that she is going to be okay. The healing process will be a long journey, but she is alive. That girl is a fighter, let me tell you. You have a keeper on your hands."

I couldn't believe my ears. It had to be the alcohol listening, because this couldn't be possible.

"S-she's alive? Smile and everything?"

"Yes, sir. Melia Annabelle Cronshaw is alive."