reach out and touch your fate; give up on everything

a/n: just wanted to say tw: substance abuse and self harm. ive had some serious writers block for the past few months and ive been focusing more on my art, but i took the time to write this. it isnt anything like my other works but if you'd take the time to read this, it would be deeply appreciated because i did put a lot of time and effort into it. feel free to follow me on twitter @petschsart, id love to talk to more of you.

Cheryl woke up, the headache she had not even affecting her since she was so numb. She stood up and did her morning routine on auto-pilot. She showered, got dressed, brushed her teeth, did her makeup, refilled the water bottle of Smirnoff vodka she kept in her bag, grabbed everything she needed for school and was out the door and in her car without even registering any of it. 

Her eyes were lifeless as she drove, just barely paying attention to the road. She hated this car. She hated that her fingers weren't intertwined with her soulmate's, she hated that the passenger seat still smelled like her, she hated the vivid memories of passionate late nights at Lovers' Lane where they made love in the backseat. 

She just hated her car that she used to love so much. She hated everything she used to love so much. She hated archery, remembering when she gave lessons to her ex-girlfriend, a front pressed against a warm back as her arms wrapped around her to make sure the beginner's posture was correct. 

She hated drawing, her sketchbook filled with immaculate sketches of the woman she loved, and still loves, despite the pain she has caused in the redhead's heart. Nothing seems to inspire her to draw now anyways, since her muse is gone. 

She hated even going outside, just because everywhere she turned there were memories. Being tackled to the ground and rolling around in the grass kissing lovingly and softly. Early morning and late night strolls in the garden. Pushing each other into the pool, splashing around playfully. 

She even hated her house. Once filled with laughter and bare feet padding across the floor as they chased each other around, backs being pushed against walls as they made out. Now filled with an eerie, sad silence save for her Nana's programmes. 

She hated her bedroom. Her bed that is now empty but still smelled like aloe and orchid shampoo and jasmine perfume. The sounds of girly giggling, breathy moans, whispered 'I love yous' gone, and replaced by sobs that were caused by heartbreak and alcohol swishing around in a glass bottle. 

But most of all Cheryl hated herself. She should have talked to her more. Or maybe she should have given her space. She should have been more outgoing, getting random gifts to bring home to her lover. She shouldn't have been so goddamned insecure about every little thing. She shouldn't have loaded her problems onto someone that was already dealing with problems of her own. 

She suffocated the girl she loved so much and then lost her because of it. She parked in the parking lot at school, entering and going straight to her locker, trying to avoid seeing the girl she misses so much. 

But it was too late. As soon as she entered the building she saw her. Through the window to the library, there she sat, mouth attached to Archie Andrews' as their tongues rammed down each other's throats. 

Cheryl felt tears prick at her eyes but refused to let them fall. Crying at home, alone in her room, was one thing. But crying in public, at school, was another. So instead she walked to her locker, unlocked it and put her stuff where it needed to be, grabbing the water bottle she had filled this morning, and took a few big gulps, the alcohol not even burning. She had been drinking it non-stop for the past two weeks, so she was practically immune to it by now. 

She quickly put it away when she saw Betty Cooper approaching and popped a piece of gum in her mouth. She was honestly in no mood to talk to the tiring blonde, the numbness in her body just able to cover her exhaustion from only sleeping for a total of six hours since the breakup.