melancholia. [ ALTERNATE SPIN-OFF ] [ BILLY HARGROVE ]

xii. CHAPTER TEN

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WARNING:
This chapter deals with topics such as the following:
blood
car accidents
suicide
depression
alcoholism
If you feel that in any way one of these could potentially trigger something in you, please do not read this chapter. It is promptly just a backstory, and not completely necessary for you to read if you choose not to. If you decide to not read, scroll to the bottom for a summary of the chapter. 

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May, 1986

     Billy stared at himself in the mirror, eyes watering as he stared at the fresh new haircut that he'd gotten only a day before. He remembered his hands trembling as he cut off the mullet, the tears flowing from his eyes as his heart was pounding in his chest. It was two months until it would be a full year without Mary, and he was trying to take his mind away from it. 

     He turned to the rest of his dorm, going to the mini fridge and grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the bottom shelf. He grabbed his keys from the night stand, storming out of the room quickly. He was nearly sprinting down the stairs, pushing past people who were talking. Every so often they'd glance at him, but leave it as it was. 

     He nearly made it through the doors of the dorm, that is until Olivia had walked in. He knew she'd been trying to make him move on, but he couldn't do it. He didn't want anyone else to take Mary's place, and he made that clear to Olivia several times. But she wouldn't back off. 

     "Hey, Billy. I was just coming to talk to you. Are you free to see a movie tonight?" she asked, not really noticing the evident tears in his eyes. 

     "I'm busy," he responded. Olivia just nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets. 

    "Oh, okay. Well, I'll see what Jackson's up to. Like the new hair by the way, it's cute," she said, giving him a bright smile. 

     "Thanks," Billy muttered. He walked past her quickly, going to the Impala at top walking speed. He didn't like to call the car his because, if he was being honest, it wasn't his car. Every time someone asked him where he bought 'his car', he'd lie and say it was his dads. He hated telling people the truth about it, the truth brought up too many bad memories. 

     He slammed the drivers side door, shifting into reverse, pulling out quickly, then speeding away from the dorm. He already took a few drinks of the whiskey, almost coughing at the taste. He pulled up to the beach soon enough, stumbling out of the car with the bottle still in his hand. He could remember it was his sixth time getting drunk that week, and it was only Thursday. 

     He bent down to the sand, knee's hitting it first. He slowly fell all the way, laying there for a few minutes as he was thinking about the last time he actually went to the beach. It was with Mary, and it was one of his happiest memories ever. 

     The waves, the way she looked, the way she talked, how she told him she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. It was quite possibly the best day of his life, and now he was never going to feel something like that ever again. He sat up and drank about half the bottle in one breath, his vision slowly blurring and distorting. 

     He continued to drink, and drink, and drink, and he didn't stop drinking until every last drop was gone from the bottle. By the time it was finished, Billy didn't know if he could stand up straight. He slowly pushed himself off the ground, stumbling to the car drunkenly. 

     There was only one thing on his mind. He just wanted to be with Mary again, and he had a horrible way of trying. Billy Hargrove sure as hell didn't believe in God, but he was hoping that at this point, the big man would pull through for him. That maybe he would be happy once it was all over.