Here comes the sun

Night Moves

⚠️ This chapter contains blood, alcohol, depressive stuff and mature language. If you don't like that just read the last paragraph ⚠️

A week goes by since the day I left Frankenmuth. Everything is starting to be the way it was before. I started working at the coffee shop again and went out with some friends. We went to the bar and I almost got myself a one night but I couldn't get through with it, my mind kept wandering back to Jake. I tried to call Kyle at least 6 times but he still doesn't answer and I can't bring myself to call Jake. I still feel so bad, I keep crying myself to sleep. My eyes are all puffy and my cheeks are red. I started running again, doing little runs around my neighborhood.

Still all I see everywhere is Jake's face. The look he gave me before he went out the door, when the argument with Kyle happened, is haunting me. This kind of look that you don't know what it could really mean. Not a angry look more of a sad look, the kind you do when you get caught doing something bad. A guilty look. A disappointment look. A look you don't really know how to react to when you see it. A look you don't think is so bad until you're at the receiving end of it. The kind of look that make your insides shatter.

I usually just play some music to stop myself from overthinking but then stairway to heaven starts and I overthink again. Everything going back to the first night, how we almost kissed, then when we first kissed. I think back to the first time I was with him, and then to all the other times. To the bar scene, the beautiful lake he brought me to, our last night together. I think back to all the feelings that went through me throughout the week.
"FUCK!" I yell as i punch the lamp off my nightstand. I accidentally touched the lightbulb and my knuckles burn but I don't even mind. The tears come back to my eyes but I don't let them fall. I scoff as the burning intensifies as Robert Plant's voice sings "...If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now..." I get to the kitchen and run my hand under the water. I quickly grab a beer out the fridge, open it on the corner of the counter and quickly bring it to my lips and let it pour down my throat. I chug it down as the light tingle of the alcohol in my throat fades away. I leave the empty bottle on the counter and look underneath the sink. After a few seconds, I find a few mini-bottles of tequila. I chug one down and sit on the floor, my back leaning against the wall. The alcohol slowly kicks in and I begin to feel numb. I grab the empty bottle and throw it as hard as I can. It breaks when it hits the wall and makes a huge breaking noise. The pieces of glass fall on the ground and I bring my knees closer to my chest as possible and begin to cry.

"What's wrong with me?!" I sob.
Why is this affecting me so much? It wasn't supposed to mean anything. I wipe away the tears from my face and get closer to the pieces of glass, clumsily trying to pick them up. I try to pick a little piece and accidentally cut the inside of my hand. A small sound escapes my lips as the blood begins to drip out of the wound. I clumsily get up and get to the sink to wash it away. Once it stops bleeding, I get back to the living room and lay down on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

I grab my phone and call the first person I seemed to think of.
It rings and a deep voice answers.
"Hey, it's Rose could you come over?"
" Um, yeah sure. I'll be there in 15 minutes." The deep voice answers and hangs up.