Dead Flower (Sequel to The Flower Girl Book Two)

Chapter 30: heartBREAK DOWN

The bedroom door slams open, hugging the wall. How many times in my life will I have to pick up the pieces of the fallen flower? And it's all my fault, because I ripped off the petals. Scattered each way, folding up at the corners, they are dying before me. The promises I made to keep them alive, I've failed.

Bruises intrude on my skin. Gashes and marks from jumping out of the moving vehicle. I'm lucky no one saw. I laid on the smoking hot pavement until the mental pain dispersed. I needed to feel that. To kill my old self. Or maybe I just did it to try and put myself in the hospital. To see if Veronica would give a shit.

"Veronica!" I'm at a comedy club, and I'm the comedian. No one is laughing at my fucking jokes, just silence. They're all just laughing at me. "Flower!" She'd always come running out the cracks in the walls.

Checking outside, the swing sways, but no one is around. She took her and left. Reaching for my phone, I call miss Jane. Again I haven't eaten. Words are slurred as she answers the phone. "Veronica...where is she at?"

She's never seen this side of me, but I can feel the darker evil coming to rip the good man to shreds. "I don't know son. I haven't heard from her in weeks. Is she okay?"

I whisper into the phone calmly, "Please, don't lie to me."

"Andrew you're scaring me. Should I call the cops?"

"No. Don't call the cops." Hanging up the phone, I throw the bowl of fake fruit against the cabinet. I grab my truck keys. She wants to play games? I'll play her fucking game, but I'm winning. There's no way she's taking Flower from me.

Me: Let me see my daughter. Or at the very least, tell me where she is!

Finally I get a reaction as the dots bounce.

...

Babygirl: She's fine. You'll see her in court when we get divorced. Then the judge will be the one to tell you when you can have her. For now, think about what you've done.

There's no use arguing with her. She's made her mind up. I'll have to find out on my own where she is. Even if I have to trace her car, and show up at whoever's door step.

                                       <\3

Standing in line, I must have some alluring aroma glowing around my body. For some reason my fuck off stare isn't working today. I can feel my alter ego coming in to play. A lot of my past is coming back up like vomit.

"Man, anyone ever tell you that talking to you, is like talking to a wall?"

My eyes revert to his. Bloodshot, craving a cold beer to fill his beer gut. "Ever think I don't want to fucking talk? I don't care about your day. Take your small talk, and small dick somewhere else."

Turning back around it's my turn. Before he can even ask how I am, I answer with what I want. Fingers graze the counter, dusty with crud. "Menthol's. Long." Yeah I'm starting back up. A cigarette to soothe the stress, but to awaken the addiction. Paying up, I forgot how expensive this lost habit is.

"Have a good day."

"Pfft. Have the day you deserve."

I don't know him. He could be just as much of a piece of shit as I am. HaVe A gOoD dAy. Smacking the pack in to the palm of my hand, the feeling is all too familiar. The stick slithers its way in between my lips. I can already taste the nicotine before lighting the deadly thing.

Cupping my hand, I lite the end. Leaned up against the wall, I shove my lighter into my pockets. Fuuuuck. Smoking this is the same as not masturbating or fucking, and cumming for the first time in months. I forgot how much of a buzz nicotine gives off.