calum
"Luke, it's me. Please just call me. Please." I know it's useless for me to call, but yet I continue attempting. He needs to let me explain, almost as much as Alexis does. But I do not blame her for not letting me talk. I wouldn't let me explain either. Hell, I wouldn't even want to see myself.
When she kicked me out last night, I didn't go home. I went straight to a liquor store by my apartment, and bought a couple of bottles of straight vodka.
And then I went home. And I drank. And I drank. My throat burned from the straight achohol, but I barely noticed.
I finished off both of the bottles, and then smashed them against the wall. The tiny glass shards fell to my feet, But didn't cut me like I wanted. Instead I was left, a crying drunk surrounded by broken glass. My feet refused to move for a while, and I lost track of time. I stood there, sobbing, and staring at the glass that resembled my broken heart. All of my mistakes were suddenly fresh in my head, as if I had committed them yesterday. Finally, I walked to my room, not caring in the least if I cut my feet, and passed out.
I had hoped that the vodka would erase my memory a little, but there isn't enough achohol in the world to make me forget what I did. There's no magic potion to make me as numb as I need. And if there was, I wouldn't even drink it, because I deserve all of this. Every fucking moment of reliving the night that I remember more clearly than any memory I have. I deserve all of this self hatred that's boiling up inside me, and soon I'm just going to overflow, and break.
I already have broken four times. I cannot break again.
And something now, is keeping me alive, probably the fact that I have a very small and tiny possibility of making amends with the one person in the world I love.
"Calum!" A voice breaks through my heavily clouded mind, and I feel the pounding of my headache return as I snap back to reality.
Ashton is standing in front of me, waving his hands in front of my eyes. I don't even remember them coming in, let alone standing in front of me. He must've used the key he made me give him after he'd seen all my fresh scars a few months ago. He didn't want me to do anything "stupid". He thought that him having a key would in some way protect me from myself.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
"Alright, what the hell was that last night?" Ashton shouts as his voice rises in volume, but he's not as mad as he can get. He knows that bad something happened, but I can tell he's still pissed that we had to cancel the show. Which again, I deserve. I deserve everything that's coming at me, all of the heartbreak. It seems I can't stop disappointing those that I love. It's a toxic cycle that I need to break.
His yelling makes my head throb, but I don't dare tell him that. Instead, I look away and stare at the wall.
"Calum!" Ashton claps his hands together, trying to get my attention. I can tell he thinks I've lost it. "What-"
"I can't tell you, okay? I can't tell you because I still don't know what happened myself, as I told someone just last night." slowly, I realize that he wants to know why I ran out, and he doesn't actually know anything about what happened between Lex and me.
This is what happens when you overthink everything like I do.
Ashton opens his mouth to say something, but I point to my couch, and he sits down obediently. He stares at me with a blinding curiosity, and taps his fingers against his knee as he awaits the answers that he deserves.
I stand up, and nervously walk around the room, collecting the bottles of beer that I downed to chase the vodka. Ashton comment on the fact that every single bottle is empty, and there's at least four of them, which I appreciate. I don't tell him that these aren't all of the bottles, and that the ones that held the vodka are already in the garbage. He'd be furious. He would tell me that I am destroying myself and suppressing my feelings and that alcohol doesn't help anything in the long run.
But I bet if he knew what I'd done, he'd let me drink all the alcohol in the world. Hopefully enough to kill me off, finally.
When I've crushed every can, and smashed every bottle into the bottom of my trash can to join the rest, I sit in a chair across from him. My actions from seven months ago slip from my mouth at a fast speed, as I explain everything that has brought me to this horrible state of mind.
Almost everything.