Taken 2

01

Why does everyone always leave me? Am I not good enough? First it was them, now it's her.

What am I to do?

Those who don't leave me, hurt me.

I'm sick and tired of always being alone or always being the victim; the one who always gets hurt.

I run my hands through my hair before getting up. I kick around the empty bottles of vodka, scotch, whiskey, and tequila. I make my way to my closet and grab a black long sleeve and some black jeans. I smell myself; God I smell foul. I should really take a shower and maybe even shave since I haven't showered in almost a week. My last shower was an hour and a half long, so hey, that counts for something right? But what's the point of fixing myself up anyways?

My phone rings for the 110th time this week. I'm not kidding, the lock screen says 110 missed calls and 81 voicemails.

Oh shut the fuck up you stupid phone!

I open my gun safe room and grab a loaded gun from one of the shelves. I shove it at the back of my jeans and walk back out.

Fuck it. I get dressed and slip some vans on. I shrug a black jacket on; God what am I in, mourning?

I grab my phone from its charger and accidentally drop the ash tray making an even bigger mess. "Shit," I mumble throwing a paper towel over the ashes on the floor. That should do for another week.

I grab my lighter and box of Malboro cigarettes and shove them into my pocket.

I walk down the stairs and grab my sunglasses and keys from the bowl. I slip the sunglasses on and walk outside. Shit the sun burns and I'm wearing sunglasses. Can't even imagine the sun without them.

I get into my car and drive off to God knows where. I find myself driving at an awfully fast speed, 105 miles per hour, heading towards California.

What am I going to do in California?

Look for her? Fuck me, I can't go knocking on her door. Where the fuck am I supposed to look? At the bus stop where I kidnapped her from? That's a bright idea Bieber, while your at it find yourself another girl to kidnap.

I crack my window open and take a cigarette from the box placing it in between my lips before lighting it with my lighter. I inhale the smoke and slowly let it out.

I'm all kinds of fucked up. She was right to have left me. Why would I continue to ruin her life? She's young, beautiful, smart, and funny. She could move on and have a brighter better future than I could ever have to offer.

I inhale and keep it in, feeling the nicotine run down my throat and to my lungs. I get the urge to cough but hold it in longer before exhaling. The smoke feels like a warm blanket wrapped around my lungs when I keep it in. Why settle for weed when you can have the real killer, nicotine?

I punch in Los Angeles, California into my navigation system.

"Approximately nine hours and fifty six minutes," the woman's voice says.

"Great, just fucking great, let the voyage begin," I said aloud.

I stopped at a gas station to get myself something to drink and another box of cigarettes.

Once back on the road I leaned my arm against the window, resting my head on my hand, just thinking about Felicity.

Six hours and twenty nine minutes to go.

I'm driving at a normal speed now since there are more cars on the freeway. I find myself shedding a tear every once in awhile which brings me to light another cigarette. I already stopped twice to buy a few more boxes.