The soulmate gift

Chapter 6: The aftermath Christopher

Christopher's POV

I haven't left my apartment in two weeks, I haven't shaved, I haven't done anything. It feels like someone ripped out my soul and my energy source. I only have the energy to drink, and train in my home gym, the punching bag has flown off the hook more than once, causing my neighbors to come check on me.  I drink a bottle of Vodka per day, I don't know how I haven't died yet.

I've always had a huge alcohol tolerance, more than the average male, but this, this, should be impossible. I need a whole bottle of vodka and more than 4 extra bottles of beers to even feel tipsy. I searched through the book of gifts, in the section about the gift of fire and about the soulmate one and found nothing about this newfound strength. Which results in me trying to drink as much as possible in order to take the pain away. The pain. I've never felt anything like it, not even when I lost my parents, and that was the worst time in all my life. 

The only person who was there for me was Tristan, Rosie thought it was best for me to have my personal space. Tristan didn't and thank god for him, because I was contemplating the worst, even with everything I did to take my mind off things.

I lost my parents in a car accident, due to a drunk driver, when I was 16. I was at Rosie's house when it happened, we had been dating for about 3 months, I was meeting her parents. She was supposed to meet mine the week after. 

When I arrived home, my family were waiting for me in the living room, when I saw their faces, I knew something was wrong. 

My aunt was staring at nothing, her eyes and nose red. My grandmother, she couldn't stop crying and screaming, my uncle holding her shaking body. Her screams still haunt my dreams. She passed a few months later, from the pain of losing her eldest son. 

My grandfather told me to take a seat next to him, his eyes were red, and his hands were trembling, when he told me, that my parents had passed. I blacked out; I awoke at the hospital the next day. Apparently, I had a panic attack and my blood started boiling, mimicking what I was feeling, which caused my heart to give out in the ambulance.

I was dead for 5 minutes.

The gifted of healing worked during the whole night to bring me back to normal with their magic, while surgeons were trying to find out what was causing my blood to boil.

What happened to me was recorded in the history books for medicinal purposes apparently. They thought it had something to do with a new gift that I was supposed to be the first to have, since nothing magical can make blood boil. Not even the gifted of water, heat and fire or the ones who can manipulate matter.

My grandparents became my legal guardians, and when grandma died, my grandpa became a shell of what he once was.  His eyes no longer had any life in them, and he spent most days locked in his bedroom. He lost the love of his life and his firstborn. I don't want to imagine the kind of pain he was feeling.

I had learned to cook back then, to keep my grandpa, myself and my uncle alive and well. 

We were able to hire a cook and a cleaner, since we were well off, but I didn't want to. Cleaning and cooking were the only thing keeping me distracted. Tristan would come by at times to drop off some food that he bought at restaurants. We grew up together, my grandfather was like an uncle to him.

My uncle would come home from the office very late, so I had food waiting for him on the stove, I didn't mind doing all the work. It took my mind off the pain. Another thing that helped? The alcohol.

My family owns a brewery that produces beer and other small businesses that produce other types of alcohol, vodka being my personal favorite, which is why I have so many laying around.