Saving Hope | ONC2020

Chapter 2

"Lord, if no one from XXXXX wants to live for God then bring them from Tulsa (Oklahoma), Mexico, Canada or from all over!"
—Brother C
(A/N: Quotes are from persons whom I know, for their privacy I've omitted their names. Unless they give me consent to quote them their names shall remain hidden. Also, this chapter contains some explicit material. This is the only one in the book and the rest proceeds as spiritual books should.)

Esperanza Ciela

It's a weird situation, breaking up with your boyfriend even though you don't want to do it. Normally it wouldn't be awkward if your boyfriend wanted to break up with you. The responsibility; the control for the situation would have been in his hands. However the only person wanting to end the consensual relationship was me.

Now there's little else left to do I guess. I could spend the night with some male stranger or I could attempt to burn my eyes out by putting vodka bottles directly onto my irises. I think I'd rather burn my eyes out.

Beat the three second record and win a bottle of wine worth three-thousand dollars and some bets. That'll pay for my flight to Texas, even though I don't need it. The ticket was paid for and it was one way. Right now I'll keep up the facade.

Party on, party on so in the morning I'm so numb I can't feel a thing. Party on girl, party on.

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When I removed the bottles from my eyes alcohol had sloshed onto me, making the left side of my red banana strap blouse and black binder underneath especially clingy. A little got onto my pale shins and Adidas, missing my tight shorts riding up. I shouted incoherently in victory as the full house answered with jeers, shouts of their own, or were otherwise added to the cacophony surrounding me.

The dubstep mixed with the flirting, yelling and idle chatter just like the strobe lights meshed with the light from the hallways outside and the restrooms. Everything was comparable to sloppy love; the lights, beat, people gyrating and grinding each other all morphed together into an orgy dedicated to it.

I've been in places like this so much I've become noseblind to the smells of vomit, sweat and show smoke. Despite the urban myth, vodka does smell and even though I have become noseblind to it I'll need to get out of these clothes soon.

Everything is finished, I inwardly mourned, everything is set. I already distanced myself from my friends. The pictures on my phone were already deleted but no matter how much I drink tonight I'll never get the regret out, I'll never get the memories to go away. Why do we drink? Is it really about forgetting or is it about remembrance? Does the fact that alcohol is rotten fruit juices most of the time reflect how we feel inside? How our souls feel inside? Rotten? Are we just Pruno, prison wine, left in the toilet just waiting to be consumed?

The Vodka eyeballing started to have an effect on me; making my eyes start burning, tearing up even and I started laughing. What are you going on about Esperanza? You've done this to yourself. All of this is your fault—my fault— and I wasn't inclined to change it.

I'm leaving California for the same reason I left my other ex in Army boot camp. Weakness. The dog tags around my neck jingled in all its false pride and glory like I had actually done something. All I did was dislocate my wrist while wrestling so bad that I can't even shoot a 40. caliber pistol. Sometimes all I got to do is fall down and mess it up. When it became clear that I could hardly do anything with my hand they slapped medically discharged on my papers and off I went.

Now I'm using my income tax return for tickets to leave my home town of Villa Park, a small 'city' under six thousand, and go to Texas from the John Wayne Airport in Orange County. I should be landing in Nike, Texas; a small city of thirty-thousand surrounded by the even smaller towns of Adnah, Agnes, Rebaño and Port Vaquilla.

The night had passed in a haze, none of my friends were at the party. I had tried to make sure of that. They'd probably try and talk me out of leaving if they were here. If I were drunk or buzzed then telling me to stay would have be even easier.

I vaguely remember getting an Uber to take me to my hotel outside the airport when I woke up in my bed. Thankfully alone and the buzzed feeling was gone. In its place I had a headache and pain just behind my eyes. Ugh, I was just being melodramatic about wanting to burn my eyes out. Rubbing at them, I got up and went to wash my face. I grimaced and spat a curse; I couldn't tell if I had started crying or my eyes were watering.

Either way I crawled back into bed, cursing my stupidity. My eyes were probably going to be red for weeks. With a sigh I let my black hair cascade over my face and made sure I wasn't sleeping on my wrist wrong. I had enough pain as it was, I didn't want my wrist being locked up when I had to drag my bags around the airport tomorrow.

Ugh, I'm gonna regret partying all night tomorrow morning...

A/N: Hello all! Tell me how I did! I'm personally feeling it's another potboiler or penny dreadful but I got a lot of stuff going on. If I'm not doing myself credit then give me a vote and a kind word. I'd really like it!!