CATE

{1} - The Beautiful Blonde

"If you're going through hell, keep going." – Winston Churchill

I'm dying.

Slowly my tub fills with cold water and a blade sits on my toilet seat watching, taunting me, waiting, my veins wish they could run away or maybe, if they're anything like me, can't wait.

I anxiously look, shivering in the farthest corner of my bathroom from both the things needed to end my life.

This isn't what you want.

The tears hurt as they stream down my flushed cheeks my throats so parched that I may kill myself from dehydration if I'm lucky.

My home buzzes across the floor annoyingly.

'Lifetime Bestie' is calling...

Fuck

I hang up, power off my phone and fling it across the room with such anger and frustration that the screen from the impact point shatters and peels off. Baseball practice had some use after all.

It falls into the tub.

I glare at the spilt bottle of pills at my feet.

You're a fucking wuss, you can't do anything right can't even end your own life.

I press the blade against the palm of
my hand hot red blood oozes out of the painless clean cut. When I was in high school... wasn't cutting yourself like a trend even those who didn't have any problems cut themselves just to see what it's like.

They say cutting yourself is like an addicting release I squeeze the wound and rapidly blood drips, drips into the sink staining it. This doesn't feel good at all.

I trash the blade, pull the plug in the tub and pull on a clean hoodie trapping it over my head.

You can't do this, you're too stubborn to give up so easily.

I know what always helps, I'll get buy some bandages at the pharmacy get a bottle or two of beer and take an hour-long shower in the guest bathroom while I think about how shitty of a person I am.

It's never really a choice, to wake up like a zombie and think about the stupid things I said two years ago while I trying to make myself a cup of tea, it's never a choice to shower that long either after all I'm the one paying the water bills but something about having the shower beating on my head while I sit in the tub crying has a strange way of temporarily washing away all my problems.

The world was suffocating a cab drops me off right in front of my favourite bar all these people were suffocating even being in an empty room felt like I was taking my last breath but not ever dying.

You're insane.

I pay him and leave with one hand squeezing the other in a tight fist, trust bars mostly empty and I sit at my usual stool at the polished wooden countertop with a bartender ready for my order, "What's wrong today?"

Being a lightweight wasn't the best when it came to betting your money on who could stand up straight the longest but it was in who could forget their past first, which is what I thought, apparently not though because I must be telling this girl something when I'm in LaLa Land.

"My adoptive step-mother got hit by a car last week, and now" I huff and stare at the counter while running my fingers through my hair, "She's in a coma, it sucks"

A down two shots of tequila on the house as the beautiful blonde bartender frowns, "Your family's just riddled with bad luck, last week your Aunt, oh how's your aunt doing"

"Good" I smile widely and slide a ten-dollar bill towards her, "A bottle of vodka please"

She nods and after serving some customers and mixing a few cocktails returns to me with a tall bottle of clear goodness.

She inhales a sharp breath, "Jesus, what happened to your hand?"

My blood clots at an alarming rate, she gives me a wet napkin to wipe away the dried blood and reveal a forming scalp, "Huh, um, thank you"

"Anyways" She starts while I pour myself a drink ignoring the pain, "Your Aunty is she better"

My aunt?

"Never been better" I smile.

She nods, "Ok, what about your dad he's still in the hospital?"

I give her an odd look. "I wanted to ask last week but you seemed really out of it, is he Ok?"

"Over er Hermie!" A drunken man seated on the other end of the bar table yells, his face was red and I swear I can smell his clothes from here.

Hypocrite

I pour another shot and wait for... she doesn't have a name tag?

...to lash back at him but instead, she smiles says she'll be right back and attends to him.

I'd punch him in that crooked jaw of his if he ever said that me, even if it didn't offend me.

My dad's in the hospital, I chuckle.

I've always wondered if there's a level of drunkness that makes you go colour blind it happened to my mom once maybe it'll happen to me.

An hour in and the world becomes a hazy, colour splotched room, with zero gravity and some lady with blonde hair taking away two glass cups in slow motion.

"You sure you can go home like that?"

I lean my hand against the door frame with a red cup of water in my hand, "yer neverbeen better"

"Why does your voice sound like that?"

"Nothing's wrong in my voice. I'm perfectly fine in my voice"

"Come back and let's try to sober you up."

I wave around my cup sloshing water all over the floor and myself, "I'm not drunk I'm the most soberest girl in this room, you're the drunk one!"

"Damn it, Cate"

Why is she the only one spinning?

"Cate!"

THANKS FOR READING THE NEXT CHAPTERS ARE IN THE MAKING I'M JUST TRYING TO REACH AN AUDIENCE FROM EARLY ON.

-Au revoir