Tragedy ✔️

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: The Bad Times
River Jenkins

A look of pure surprise washes over Myles’ face when he sees me entering his full bar that night. He was surprised because I left here not long ago, but when I left, the bar was quite empty and no one really paid me attention.

His black shirt’s sleeves were rolled up. He was busy polishing beer glasses with a clean cloth when I sat down on one of the surprisingly empty stools.

Beer and bar food fills my nostrils and even though the aromas of hot wings and fries smelled delicious, especially since I didn’t eat anything the entire day, I couldn’t stomach any food right now.

What my aunt said to me tore a hole inside my heart, even though her words were right: I was to blame for how I was acting. I was pushing everyone away who was trying their best to help me, but I was so broken that I don’t think I can ever be healed to my full potential ever again, and therefore I keep thinking and making myself believe that I’m beyond repair.

Myles sets the glass he just polished onto the counter before picking up another one. He looks at me with a frown settled between his brown eyebrows. “What happened?” He asks.

I hated the fact that he knew something was wrong even though I sat down with an empty expression. I came here wanting to avoid the question, but with a guy like Myles who monitored my every move and who examined my every emotion very carefully, it was quite impossible.

I shake my head slowly, drumming my index finger against the bar’s counter. “I don’t want to talk about it, Myles. I just need a drink. Specifically that fine whiskey of yours like the last time. Make it a double.”

I get a few strange glances at the request and I wanted nothing more than to flip them off for not minding their own damn business, but I was so tired that I couldn’t even get angry this time. I just felt… empty, and emotionless.

I didn’t think that anyone’s words could have such an effect on me, but what my aunt said, that I was acting this way out of spite, really got to me. She made it sound like I was acting this way because I wanted to act like this, like I wanted to be this heartless asshole that bit everyone’s heads off.

Myles laughs it off, looking at the customers sitting a few stools away from me—to the customers who heard my request. “He’s obviously joking.” He says, flinging the cloth he used to polish the glasses over his shoulder in one swift movement. “I would never serve a minor alcohol.” He smiles sweetly.

The customers just shrug it off and returned to their conversations.

“What’s going on?” He asks, leaning toward me so he could talk to me in a whisper. “Did something happen?”