Not Very Stereotypical.

Chapter Thirty Eight

Tears rushed down from Bethan's heated cheeks as the rest of her body numbed. Her eyes burned from the sight as the salt stung her upper lip as it trembled profusely. Turning away from her nightmares and shooting right towards the door, she bounced off the regaining atmosphere in pain. Clutching onto her bottle with her shaking fingers, she darted away, her mind too puzzled to react differently.

Feeling the burn of the liquid as she swallowed, her sobs became louder as she burst through the front door to the front yard. It was now messed with toilet roll, egg yolks, knotted cobwebs and rotting pumpkins. Bethan didn't bother to turn back as she ran, she made it to the edge of the garden and threw her back towards a tree and dropped to the floor making sure she faced away from the dreaded house.

She ran her hands through her messy hair attempting to straighten out her thoughts and she found her self reaching yet again for the bottle, needing something to numb the pain. Bethan was in too much shock to attempt to make sense of the event, but yet she didn't want to. Her heart ached as her mind kept flashing her back to the moment. The world became silent as she took another swig of and the tears blurred the world,  the cool lights flustered in her visions. She had to get home, away from there. Discarding her halo and wings upon the lawn, she further smudged her running mascara to wipe away the tears.

Despite the constant drinking from the bottle, her mind managed to sober as she stumbled her way home, along paths and empty streets, abandoned by trick or treaters. Bethan, well, she looked a state. No one knew where she had gone and no one knew how much pain she was in. The danger she was actually in was unknown to her and the heart break she was enduring made her drink the pain away, making her fearless in a twisted way.

She took her heels off and tiptoed her way around the final corner towards her street. Her lungs found it hard to keep up with the painful tears she was shedding, her sobs radiated throughout her body. The bottle was running dry and so were her lips, Bethan had cried herself home. She tried to quietly open the door, and attempted to tip toe her way up the stairs. But I'm reality, darkness makes everything so much louder. The bottle she placed in the glass bin, clunked as it landed, making Bethan grimace in frustration.

Bethan was in no way an alcoholic, it was an escape for her. It was the only thing there for her sometimes. Her nationality's toxic trait of claiming themselves as the best 'drinkers' of the world, didn't help as she grew up. She wasn't able to have boy heart to hearts with a motherly figure, so Bethan relied on her friends to help her through it- and what they recommended as a cure for all? Alcohol.

Dragging herself up the stairs, she walked to her room and opened the door as quietly as she could. Bethan flipped her heels off upon entry and then stripped an item of clothing off, leaving a trail as she walked toward her bed. Throwing a hoodie over her head and then half heartedly wiping her face with a dry makeup wipe, she got into bed and without delay, the darkness over took her.

I wish I could tell you that Bethan was then awoken by a call explaining everything, but her phone stayed silent as she woke to a large thud beginning to erupt in her mind. She doesn't get hangovers, but with a whole bottle drunk just on her way home and the large amount of tears shed, there was no surprise she was experiencing a huge headache. And heartbreak headaches are the worst.

Bethan rolled over in her bed, pulling her pillow over her head to try and ease the pain. The sun started to peep through the window and shine into her room. Frustrated, she sighed and opened her red eyes that puffed into her vision. Squirming herself back under the thick blankets, Bethan cringed at the thought of the night before.

As expected, she did not move from her bed that day. Timmy also joined her when he woke up. "Are you sad?" He asked her innocently, noticing the odd quietness in his sister.
Bethan smiled at him, attempting to put on a smile, however Timmy knew his sister better than he probably should for someone his age. He jumped off from Bethan's bed and sneakily skipped down the hallway with no explanation. Timmy returned moments later, holding his trick and treat bag that they had  filled to the brim on the night previous.

Smiling mischievously, his eyes lit up at the smile Bethan gave him as she budged up in her bed for Timmy to join her. They devoured the foreign candy until their teeth felt sore and their stomachs were stuffed with sweetness. "You look like a panda." Timmy said softly as his eyes began to close and a yawn escaped his blue stained lips. Bethan managed to chuckled lightly as she swallowed the last chocolate eyeball. Both of the Evans' kids fell asleep after their devour, surrounded by foil wrappings.

For Bethan the day continued to go slow, after watching Timmy perform a puppet show with Mr Ducky and a sock followed by any other attempts of cheering up he tried to do for her over the rest of the day. She didn't move from her bed until the next day, where she had a bath, listening to music with a glass of red wine, picturing herself in a high end movie production.

She did try her best to get herself together but with the constant reminder whenever she looked at the limp bodysuit laying flat by the door of her bedroom, she struggled to keep herself together. She couldn't move it, she couldn't even look at it without tearing up. So with her happiness assistant at hand, Timmy helped her through the weekend and got her through to Monday morning.