Precious [h.s.]

Chapter 53

I take another gulp of the wine, but instead of relaxing, I get angrier and angrier.

"It's all for show. Everything's for show. Everybody cares about you until one morning when they decide you're not worthy of their attention anymore." I reach for the bottle again, my fingers gripping it for dear life. The objects around me are blurry and my head is spinning like a tornado, as if I've been caught in a brutal dance. "They leave me alone every time. And it's not fair. This is not how it's supposed to be." My voice gets increasingly louder. "Why am I the awful person every fucking time? It's not me. It's them. Every time I find my peace they steal it from me. It's mine and they keep taking it away from me." My lips touch the bottle once again and my arms become tired from moving them around.

"I hate them." My fist goes down, and so does the object in my hand, the glass bottom coming in contact with the surface of the floor, small drops of liquid spilling out of it. "I hate Michael for doing this to me and I hate my parents for never doing enough and I hate Adelia and I hate Harry, and my mom, and my stupid high school boyfriend, and everyone in that town. I hate everyone." My voice screeches my ears, and when I finally look down, tiny, red dots of wine cover my pajama while the floor is splattered by the blood-like substance.

My body doesn't move for a few seconds, but when I take in the image before me, my eyebrows furrow, and with all the power I have in my arm, I throw the bottle to the wall on my side, the scarlet color splashing it whole.

My outburst of anger surprises me, so for some time that may have lasted an hour or a few seconds, I stare at the once-white wall that I turned to a messy, maroon color. It's no longer neat and spotless. I ruined even this lifeless thing.

It's always me. As hard as I try to convince myself that it's not true, I have to admit it. It's always me who is the problem in every relationship I have; be it a friendship, relationship, or anything in between. I keep looking for love from the outside, but I'm yet to find it within myself. How can I expect anybody to love me when all I do is beg to be left? It seems like it's a cliche ending - never different. It always ends with me in the same position. There must be something wrong with me. Something I haven't figured out yet. Or maybe, I'm just an unlovable person, seeking love but never willing to fully accept it. The good and the bad.

"I'm so tired," I whisper to myself and wipe my tears with the sleeve of my shirt. "I'm exhausted. Life is tiring me out and I don't know if it's worth it anymore. I don't think there's anything left for me to enjoy. There's no light at the end of the tunnel anymore. I have nothing to look forward to now and that gives my life no sense, no meaning." I press my eyes into the palms of my hands, trying to muffle my cries. "I can't fix it any longer. There's nothing I can do."

My chest moves up and down with every breath that I take. My feet have gone cold and a shiver runs through my body as a headache hits me. "I need to clean up. Nobody should see this." I sniffle between words as tears continue to stream down my cheeks. I stand up trying to avoid stepping onto the puddles of liquid on the floor and grab the roll of paper towels from the counter, wrapping some around my hand a few times. I get down on my knees and tie my hair. With my right hand, I pick up the broken pieces of glass while I wipe the wine from the floor with my left one. I get lost in my head for a moment and I don't notice when I touch a sharp bit, dropping it as soon as I start to feel a sting on my fingers.

"Shit." Blood drips down on my clothes and on the tiles. Gone is all my work. I sigh and sit up, having to hold onto whatever object I have around me, the alcohol hitting me harder than I expected. I step towards the kitchen sink, keeping my eyes on the broken bottle. I start the water as gently and soundlessly as I can, not that it would matter after all the noise I made just a few moments ago. I run my skin under the water and bite my lip as the cold hits it.