My Baby Girl

Love's To Blame

The next day

*Tyler's POV*

"...And afterwards we saw Ashley get into a car and have a pretty intense make out session with who we assume to be Ryan Good. Witnesses say they saw Tyler leave through the back door, and it was pretty apparent that he was heartbroken. The paparazzi captured images of him having a melt down outside  while Ashley is making love with her new old partner, Ryan Good. Fans quote 'Seeing a Haleb break up on TV is devastating, but seeing one in person is even more heat wrenching .' We can only imagine how devastated the Pretty Little Liars star, Tyler Blackburn is, knowing the love of his life has left him in the dust. How do you feel about Ashley's decision? I'm sure our Ryshley fans are going crazy! What will become of everyone's favorite on screen lovers? Check back in next week on, Daily News Weekly to discover what happens next."

I turn off the TV. I can't listen anymore. I sit up, and down another shot of tequila, leaning into the couch and sighing deeply. My cheeks still sting with leftover tears, and the only pleasure I'm experiencing is the delirium from all the alcohol I've drank in the last six hours. I feel completely numb in a meaningless world of never ending sadness.

I suddenly have the urge to start crying all over again and fix my eyes on the ceiling, breathing heavily to keep from breaking down again for the hundredth time in the last few hours. Every thing I do feels surreal. Like I'm in a never ending nightmare where things just keep getting worse.

I slam my fists angrily into the coffee table, making it wobble unsteadily. What's the point of even being here when the love of my life is out of the picture? I can't stand to think about it without getting emotionally unstable all over again, so instead I chug a bottle of gin. I need something stronger for a change.

***
About three hours or so later I open my eyes and look around. The TV has miraculously turned itself on again, the four and a half empty bottles of booze are scattered across the table, not including the one that is laying across my chest, and the bottle opener resting beside it. The unmistakable shooting pain of a hangover is hovering behind my eyes, making them even harder to open. A faint ringing is echoing through my ears as well, causing my head to throb more intensely. I try to focus on any positive thing I can think of, but nothing comes to mind.

I've debated calling Ryan to apologize for my irrational behavior last night, but at the same time, I can't bring myself to do it. He deserves every bit of pain I've caused. Hell, he deserves worse! What he did to Ashley makes me sick to my stomach, and to think she picked him over me anyway, makes me want to scream and throw up at the same time. I don't know if it's because of all the emotional pain, or all the alcohol I've consumed, but I rush to the bathroom and vomit into the toilet.

As I sit up and wipe my mouth, suddenly severely dehydrated, and glance at myself in the mirror. I am a complete mess. My hair is strewn in all different directions, my eyes are swollen and red, my skin is pale and green with nausea, and I can physically see my heart, broken and shattered inside me. I can't stand there and watch my mirror taunt me any longer, so I bring my fist to my reflection, and take a whack at it like it's a piñata. The glass cracks, and then shatters, pieces of it falling like rain at my feet. I let out a painful cry, before stumbling backwards. I glance down at my bloody hand. Glass shards slice through my skin, and leave it hanging limply beside it. I scream in pain once more and force myself to stand in front of the sink. I thoroughly rinse the wound, being careful not to aggravate it with the scented soap. I carefully remove each piece of glass lodged in my skin, yanking them out like toxic weeds.

Once I'm sure the remains of the mirror are no longer seeking shelter in my hand, I grab a bottle of anesthetic, and a bandage, and wrap it around my hand. Then I stumble out of the bathroom, still unable to see clearly due to the alcohol. Once I'm safely out of the hazard zone and into my bedroom, I sprawl out on my bed, and burst into tears yet again, clutching my wounded hand like it's the only thing I've got keeping me alive.