Endlessly

1

The bitter cold seeped through the warmth of my heavy knitted blanket, I couldn't find the source of the cold as I shivered in a dreamless sleep. I groaned softly as I rolled over to look at the alarm clock that was illuminating the dark room. Just past two-twenty in the morning, it seemed unlikely I would find sleep again. I pulled the blanket tightly around my shoulders as I stood on the artic cold wooden floor of my small apartment bedroom. I could clean, but the hangover was vicious and the thought of doing anything productive made my stomach churn. Scratch that; I should  clean. I looked around at the catastrophe I called my room, my bed was completely torn apart from the countless nightmares I suffered, my closet that was once organized and pristine was strewn across the oak flooring and my black and white stripped rug. I shuffled myself to the black chair adjacent to my bed and sat down. This room was once my sanctuary, but each passing day it turned into my prison. The band posters that covered the walls held no meaning to me anymore, my favorite bands no longer meant anything to me. Johnny Cash, Morrisey, Whitechapel, Thy Art is Murder. They once were so sacred to me but who I was turned into a distant memory. I picked up the pumpkin shaped pillow and clutched it tightly to my chest allowing the tears to flow freely. 

Nothing was the way it had been six months ago, the only thing that had remained the same was my precious cat Sushi. I let my mind wander as I watched the headlights of cars stream across my ceiling. I tried to remember a time where it didn't feel like I was drowning in my sorrow. I guess the last time was when my father was still alive; he was the glue of the Glass family. After my father died of pancreatic cancer we all fell apart, my mother moved back to our home state of Washington. I preferred to stay put in the comforts of Massachusetts; not that I found much comfort here anymore. Next to my chair was the half drank bottle of vodka, with trembling fingers I unscrewed the lid and brought it to my lips. The familiar burn brought a warm wave of comfort that radiated from my lips, down my throat and into the void in my chest. I pulled my knees to my chest and sighed as I continued to drink. The room started to feel smaller and smaller as my eyes began to shut. 

The air was unusually thick as Bryce's piercing blue eyes searched my soul, I found myself unable to look away. He walked toward me unbalanced and possibly unhinged, tonight was going to be another bad night. 

"Darling, where have you been?"  Here's the thing about men like Bryce; pet names like darling, honey, baby, and sweetheart are never a good thing. Especially when their voice is sickeningly sweet like sugar water. His hand reached for my cheek and he gently drew his fingers down from my cheekbone to my jaw leaving a trail of electric vibrations in their wake.

"I was out with Elliott and his brother James. I texted you right after I left work." My words were tumbling out of my mouth and I couldn't stop them. I knew I was digging myself into a deeper hole but I couldn't find the mute button. Bryce closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his mousy brown, unwashed hair, giving me a small smile. He almost looked like he was satisfied with my answer and that tonight would go on without any issues. I brushed my lips along the tips of his fingers, a small smile found it's way onto my face too just before the heat of a slap rushed across my face. The warmth spread from my temple to my jaw, burning each inch. My eyes snapped open to find his beautiful smile replaced with an all too familiar frown and flaring nostrils. 
"Baby, please. You can call them, they'll tell you I was with them!" Pleading was a language I was fluent in by this point but a language that Bryce was ignorant to. Even though it didn't work, sometimes pleading helped me feel better. It's like knowing that you did everything you could. 

"So they can lie to me? Do you really think that your friends will tell me the truth about what you've been up to? That's insane, you're absolutely delusional." Bryce's voice was raising with each passing second and I couldn't stop the tears from falling down my face. 
"Stop your fucking crying, Hannah. You can't honestly believe tears are going to make me believe you weren't out with another man, can you?" Another slap connected with my face before his fingers tangled in my hair dragging me down to the hall to our bedroom. He threw me onto the floor and slammed the door shut tight after walking out. I crawled slowly to the door and rested my palm against the wood, tears spilling by the gallon and sobs shaking my entire body.

"Please, Bryce. I love you. Please just open the door!"  

-

Screaming abruptly woke me. Who the fuck was screaming at four-thirty in the morning? Suddenly I realized it was me, I was the one screaming.  I quickly threw myself out of bed and with unsteady feet I shuffled to the living room where I found my best friend still awake. He looked up from his book and gave me a small smile.

"Nightmares again?" I shrugged and burrowed myself into his warmth peeking at the book he was reading. "You smell like a bar, love." His thin lips were set in a disapproving grimace. With another small shrug I laid my head on his shoulder. His eyes slowly drifted back to his book, the disapproval still rolling off his body. He hated when I drank, and yet always took care of me. I played with the ends of his long shaggy brown hair while he read silently, every now and then a smile would form on his face. Three years of friendship had taught me so much about who he was, how warm and caring he was behind the tough exterior. He put on a heartless front, carried himself with such a cunt-y attitude that most were repulsed by him. They didn't want to be in his presence, let alone be as close to him as I always found myself but to me, he was just Elliott. He was my Elliott.

At some point I must have drifted off to sleep, the sound of him clearing his throat made me jump.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep." I smiled sheepishly as his brown eyes looked straight through me to my soul as they did every time he looked at me.

"You're fine, Hannah. Let's get you to bed, yeah?" His thick British accent twisted my already mangled heart. He held his hand out and helped me to my feet, slowly leading me to my room. I couldn't walk straight so he wrapped his arm around my waist helping me to the still freezing bedroom. "Try to sober up for me, please."

I knew that Elliott disapproved of the way I coped with my problems but I also knew he wasn't much better. I chose alcohol while he chose avoidance and distance. Neither of us really had the right coping mechanisms but something about life felt more like a fight to survive rather than actually living. Elliott dropped me on the bed and threw my blankets on top of me before looking around the room in absolute horror. It wasn't very often that he came into my room and the messy area served as a serious reminder of why. I was a slob and he was a clean freak. It's why our friendship and living arrangement worked so well; he was organized and kept everything in place and well... I guess it was only ideal for me. I can't imagine how awful it was for him. With a subdued shudder he turned on his heel and left the room, and in turn, leaving me with the thoughts I tried so desperately to avoid. I closed my eyes and hoped to escape the nightmare.