𝟹𝟻| 𝙼á𝚐𝚘𝚊

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Mágoa (noun)

- a heartbreaking feeling that leaves long-lasting traces, visible in gestures and facial expressions.


~*~

Everyone had a chapter that they didn't read out loud. I'd learnt that at this point. We all fought battles and sometimes we surrendered, no matter how hard we strived to push through. We left those battles with wounds that never disappear.

I had no concept of what to expect when I inspected the unlocked door leading into Liam's house. Christian shot me a concerned look from the driver's seat and for a second I wondered how much energy he required to convey just the smallest bit of emotion into his features.

"I'll be fine," I murmured, eyes levelled on the wreck that was Liam's motorcycle. Dirt was dispersed all around it and the lawn appeared to be shredded out by the intensity of the motorcycle crash.

Patting Christian's hand that was on the steering wheel, I climbed out of the car, reminding him to put all of the groceries away once he got home. I didn't exactly want Dad burdened with that job. He was tired enough as it was.

Within a few seconds, the car disappeared down the street and I took in a big gulp of air, needing to prepare myself for whatever was going to greet me inside that house. On the way here, Sabrina had called me again, explaining that she and her aunt had both gotten phone calls from a neighbour who complained about crashes coming from their house.

I looked to my left just in time to see a bald man slide inside his house, having been observing me since I climbed out of the car. Spreading a hand over my face, I moved across the demolished lawn before trying to quieten my footfalls as I entered the house.

It was quiet and it confounded me. The neighbour complained about bangs and I questioned whether it was a singular crash having been produced by the motorcycle. As I peeped around into the living room, my heart dropped and practically fell out of my ass.

Liam was an absolute mess. His face was red and puffy from God knows what and there were dull bags underneath his once luminous eyes. He sat with his left arm encircled tightly around his legs, pulling it closer to his chest.

In his right hand was a half-filled bottle of beer, threatening to collapse to the ground due to the slack grip he had on it. Scattered around the living room were four empty bottles of beer and what looked like fragmented remnants of another one.

I raised a hand to my mouth to overcome a gasp, blood running cold at the sight of Liam being surrounded by alcohol. In the time that I'd known him, I hadn't seen him take one sip of it which made the current moment all the more wretched.

My eyes were lustrous with an unshed bed of tears as I observed Liam break down in front of me. A stray tear trailed down my cheek when I blinked and tore my gaze from him.

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