All About Cherry

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

     A t l a s   C h e r r y   downed his whiskey in one gulp and cringed at the burn at the back of his throat. After a hectic and unusually busy Friday, all Atlas could think about was hitting his sheets and not showing his face to the wilderness until Monday. Unfortunately for him, he'd had to postpone his appointment with his bed. He needed a drink—or a few, urgently.

     He glanced at his knuckles and sighed deeply, his mind not going anywhere. That night's match was a tough one, he felt as if the world was dealing him the worst cards when it came to his opponents. Atlas yet again had to face another bull in the ring, granted, he'd won, and he won big. But at what cost? His ribs were bruised and aching, his entire body was on fire, every step he took, pain followed him relentlessly, on top of that, his head was killing him and he was fed up with it. He simply could not find a moment of respite and he cursed the night as he downed his second glass of whiskey.

     Comically painful as it was, Atlas had no choice but to keep going, he was stuck in an incessant loop trying to desperately mold something out of his pitiful life. Sure, he could have found a normal job, albeit doubting that anybody would want his rotting attitude or him around, but it wasn't as easy as that. He had rent to pay, he had lectures to attend and assignments to complete, working overtime in his senior year of college wasn't going to fly, minimum wage could only carry him so much.

     If it meant that Atlas had to bust his ass in a ring fighting other desperate people for money, he would do it, and then again, until eventually, his body found itself unable to fight any longer. A boy had to survive in a world that didn't care for him somehow, right?

     There went yet another glass of whiskey, soon went the following, and Atlas found the consequences creeping up on him at a rapid pace. He sighed and hung his head low. He shouldn't have been there, he should've been at his apartment, catching up on many lost hours of sleep, but instead, he was in some random bar in Connecticut, getting hammered. Atlas hated the way he was, but he couldn't stop himself from downing another glass of whiskey.

     The bartender looked concerned when Atlas asked for another, but did his job regardless.

     This had been slowly becoming a trend in his life, getting beat up or beating people up for money only to spend half of it in one night drowning his pain and sorrows in alcohol. Some responsible young adult he was. If he continued falling down this rabbit hole his body and mind would eventually cave in, but he couldn't do anything about it. 

     Alcohol was a desperate man's best friend when the situation arose.

     Then again, it could've been way worse than it was. Alcohol wasn't the only toxic substance Atlas could poison his mind with. But he wouldn't stoop that low, he held too much pride in himself to wind up like his deadbeat mother. 

     Thinking about her left a bitter taste in Atlas' mouth and get tried to get rid of it with another gulp of whiskey. There was so much anger, pain, and discomfort in his life and no matter how desperately he tried to run away from it, it always crept back up to him. The was no rest for the wicked.

     "That one's on me." An unfamiliar voice cut the eery silence of the bar, as the bartender was fixing up yet another drink for Atlas.

     Atlas lifted his head up to look at the source of the voice and found himself staring at the same man who had been talking to his professor earlier in the afternoon. His face involuntarily turned into a scowl as he stared at Daxton Holloway's quizzical look. He didn't want some city boy's charity and tried to refuse the drink, because he was as stubborn as he was drunk, and he was pretty fucking drunk.