From the perfect start

Chapter 6- I can still remember

"You have ten seconds to get out of here and take your trashy friends with me before I make sure your girlfriend knows where you put your micro cock yesterday and then I cut it off."

I fucked his girl for a month or so, freshman year before she lost taste and started to screw him and I have to admit I couldn't stand her but she sure as hell is above this asshole.

Bastard is putting his dick into every pussy he finds while his pregnant girlfriend is at home, imagining a future with him.
When I hear in a few years that she wants a divorce I will make sure little shit will give her the millions she deserves for wasting her time with him.

He lets out a couch and then immediately pulls himself up from the couch, almost stumbling over his own feet. He grips my arm, trying to steady himself.

"Get your fucking hands off of me, you little shit," I say and shove him away, not watching only hearing as he takes his friends with him.
Fuck, I need fresh air.

I huff out and then make my way up to the roof.
The second the cold morning air hits my face I relax a little, before walking toward the edge. I look down at the best fucking city in the world and take a cigarette out of the package I brought with me on my way up here.

I lift it between my lips and as I close my eyes and inhale the smoke, memories from yesterday come up.

How I went onto that roof to wait till midnight, till I can drink so much I am on the verge of death, almost seeing the pits of hell.
How the girl came up and started talking to me. She talked and talked, telling me random stuff about herself, not stopping once.

How I listened to every word I said and I forgot my goals as she distracted me.
Why the fuck did she do that?

The stuff I fucking said... thank God I will never see her again.

Promise me to never drink when you're sad.
Fuck.
I remember walking down again and how a black-haired woman came onto me. How she flirted and told me the things she wanted to do to me and the next thing I know is that I am waking up in one of the beds I normally use for one-night stands, her naked body on top of me.

But fucking a random chick I have never seen before is not the fucking problem.
The fucking problem is that I can remember.

It's the day after the anniversary and I can remember. I can remember every single fucking thing.

I shouldn't have listened to her.
Why did I start talking to her?
Why did I let her distract me?
She wanted to get to know me.
She asked me if I was fucking ok.
Why the hell did she do that?

I should have drunk instead. I should have swallowed every kind of pill I could find and had sex with every girl I see. I should have done every possible thing I hate and then make me forget it.
But I can remember.
The headache, my hurting limbs but I can still remember.

I remember too much.
I let my cigarette fall to the ground and step onto it.
I run with one hand through my hair and pull on the strands before looking up at the sky, hating myself more.
I turn around and make my way down again. I need a fucking shower and then sleep to forget what I did last night.
But before I even step into the living room I hear a familiar voice behind me.

"Hey, mate. Has the beauty queen slept well?" Harvey walks through the door of the bedroom he uses when he sleeps over as I look over my shoulder.

"Oh, fuck off."

"You had fun with the hot chick you took to your bedroom?" He asks with a grin on his face.

"Shut up. I am not in the mood to talk about her. I just want her out of the apartment so I can sleep in peace." I reply, trying to get away from the topic.