FicWad

Hey, guys! I'm sorry it took me like three weeks to update, but my studies are keeping me pretty busy. Here is the next chapter, though and I really hope it was worth the wait.
xoxo

When I woke up, everything was still spinning and my entire body was aching. I was relieved to see that I was at least in my own apartment even if it was on the bathroom floor. I remembered times when I had woken up on a bench at a bus stop or outside a bar. Those were never nice realizations. It always reminded me of how fucked up my life was.

Getting up was a slow process. No matter how slowly I moved, I had to stop what I was doing every two seconds as wave after wave of nausea and dizziness swept over me. Just walking to the kitchen was like mission impossible. It was a good thing that I didn’t have to go to work today, I thought as I shuffled over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. Here’s to the first one.

I was shocked to see the kitchen clock show twelve thirty. I guess no one could accuse me of drinking too early today. For the first time in probably weeks, my eyes scanned over my apartment and it was a mess. No one could live like that. It was a good thing that I didn’t really live there, considering I was always at work or out drinking. Nonetheless, the place was in desperate need of a good cleaning, just not today.

As soon as I finished my beer, I took a shower and changed into some clean clothes, or at least clothes that weren’t stained with all types of crap from the previous night. I looked in the mirror, staring into a pair of bloodshot eyes. I didn’t like what I was seeing. The reflection was one of a broken man who had strayed so far from the path, there was no hope of returning. He was tired and worn. He looked a mess. And yet, when I looked closer, looked deep into his dull hazel colored eyes, I read nothing but fear. Those eyes were terrified, terrified of so many things. The man in the mirror was afraid of rejection, afraid of disappointment. He was afraid of people seeing the real him and he was afraid of the world, too. Most of all, he was afraid of life.
My life was fucked-up and I knew it.

Still, I didn’t plan on doing anything about it, because I had friends and at least I didn’t feel completely miserable all the time. I needed to get out of that apartment immediately before I went crazy. I grabbed a jacket and headed out the door straight for Starbucks.

“Good afternoon, Gee,” Ray greeted as I sat down at a table.

I kept my sunglasses on, because I didn’t find it necessary for the rest of the world to see that I was all kinds of hung over.

I groaned, “Hey, can I get some strong black coffee please? Make it two.” I held up two fingers in order to ensure that he got it.

“Rough night?” he asked to which I simply nodded.

He shook his head and left to take care of my order. It felt like a marching band had decided to practice inside my head. Scratch that, World War III was currently occurring in my head.

“Hey, Toro, where is Katherine?” some skinny guy asked loudly.

“I don’t know,” Ray growled in response. “I’m not exactly her babysitter.”

I snorted. Ray needed to learn how to relax. It was time for him to come out with me and the guys again.

“Here you go,” he said placing my coffee in front of me. “I swear she’s always late.”

“Who?” I asked confused.

“The girl who works here with me, or at least is supposed to be doing the same shift,” he complained.

I drank my coffee, “Maybe there’s a reason she’s always late.”

“Other than a hangover? I don’t think so,” he grumbled. “And I always get yelled at for it. I’m not her dad. I kind of wish Ed would fire her and get it over with.”

“Stop being such a bitch,” I smiled.

He grinned, “Thanks for being on my side. If you were in my shoes, you’d understand.”

I started to laugh, but at that moment it felt like a bunch of fireworks went off inside my head and I grabbed it with both my hands.

“Sorry I’m late,” a girl exclaimed, rushing past me and around to the back of the counter.

“It’s about damn time,” Ray grumbled, trying to sound angry though he didn’t quite succeed. “Dude, you really have to start cutting back on all this partying. Look at yourself,” he said sternly, turning his attention back to me.

I coughed. “I’m fine. It was one rough night, okay? I went to a party in Hoboken and things got a little out of hand. I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this bad.”

“There’s your problem right there. It’s not good for you. I don’t want to lose one of my best friends to this shit,” he said firmly.

Ray was always the moral one, my conscience in a manner of speaking. He took it upon himself a long time ago to try to straighten me out. Needless to say, he hasn’t been successful. I appreciated the effort, because it showed me he cared, but sometimes I wished that he would just back off and let me live my life.

“Don’t worry, Ray. I’m not going anywhere,” I assured him completely serious.

Times were hard, yes. Today was especially rough, but I still wasn’t looking for an easy way out of this mess.

He rolled his eyes and walked away. I bought more coffee before leaving again. Once back at the apartment, I pulled my drawing pad closer and drew a picture. It was a rough sketch and I didn’t put too much thought into it. I drew a dead girl: the picture was in black pen except for the blood, which was red. I ripped it out and placed it on a stack of other drawings on the table. Instead of drawing something else, I started looking through all the old drawings I had.

There was the dead girl, a crow, a marching band and finally I came to a collage. It looked more like a puzzle than a drawing. There were drawings in pen, pencil, chalk and coal. The pictures didn’t even really fit together. There were girls running around and thunder clouds, flowers and dogs. It was the collage Sarah and I drew at her place the other night.

Shit, Sarah.

I looked at my watch, but it was already too late to go over to her place. I would have to go early the next morning. She was probably mad about the previous night. Of course she was. How could she not be? I was her guest and instead of keeping her company, I got smashed. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk to the level where I passed out. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk at all. I shouldn’t have lost myself in the euphoria of the drugs either. Unfortunately, I couldn’t change what happened. All I could do now was apologize and hope that she would forgive me.

I got up with a deep sigh and started in the direction of the fridge. This was just great. I wanted to do things right, but I always somehow fucked things up. Damn it, and I was out of alcohol. I had to drink the last one earlier and forget to buy more. Well that was no good.

I could go out and get drunk with the guys like I usually did, but I wasn’t particularly in the mood for everybody. I wanted to be alone tonight and drown my sorrows in the comfort of my apartment. That only left me with one more option. I had to go grocery shopping, especially since I haven’t eaten anything all day long. All my cupboards were empty. My mom would die if she had to see me now. It was a good thing my parents didn’t visit often.

I found my wallet hiding under the bed, after having searched for it for almost half an hour, fuck my life, and I was finally able to go to the store.

The streets weren’t too busy and it allowed me to appreciate the night life, of sorts anyway. New York City was always too bright and you could never see any stars. There was no point in even looking up to try to see any. I’d most likely fall over if I tried that in any case. Instead I looked around at the buildings, some of which wanted to fall apart. Graffiti marked up quite a few of them, but I guess it all depended on the neighborhood you were in. I had to walk through one of the less nicer ones to get to the store.

The store was brightly lit when I reached it and not very busy which was understandable, since it was almost ten thirty. I didn’t have a lot of money on me and ended up buying a box of cereal and a few bags of chips. Then it was next door in search of alcohol. Two six packs of beer would have to be enough for the night.

A cool breeze had picked up while I was inside. With the two paper bags in hand, I started my trek back home. On my way home I walked by one of the local bars where you could clearly hear the festivities from inside. I stopped briefly, considering going inside. It sounded very inviting and I couldn’t believe how much my body was craving alcohol.

“Hey.”

If only I didn’t have the two bags with me. Then again, I could only have one drink and then go home.

“Excuse me.”

Who was I kidding? Once I was inside I wouldn’t leave until I had to crawl home.

“Gerard?”

My attention was drawn to a dark figure sitting against the wall. I stepped closer to the person without even thinking about it. It was a woman dressed in black from head to toe, from the black beanie on her head that only allowed for a few feathery wisps of her onyx hair to show, right down to her black boots. The only color was the red on her lips and her perfect blue eyes.

“Sorry, but do you have a lighter?” she asked.

“I do,” I nodded, managing to hold my groceries in one arm while fishing out my lighter with the other hand and handing it to her.

“Thanks. I was in such a hurry to leave the house today that I stupidly forgot to grab mine and now I’m dying for a cigarette and, surprisingly, no one can help me out.”

She pulled a cigarette from the box in her hand and put the little white cancer stick to her lips. I watched as the flame lit up her face for a brief moment. For that split second I watched the light dance across her features, lighting up her high cheekbones and pouting lips.

She suddenly looked up, holding the lighter back out to me.

“Thanks,” she reiterated, blowing out smoke.

“No problem.”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” She wore a small smile as she asked me this.

Her question was unexpected and I wasn’t sure how to respond, because no, I didn’t remember her. I wasn’t even aware that I was supposed to know her. Then again, she knew my name. Maybe I should know her.

“Katherine.” She said it as if it should ring a bell. “We met last week.”

Like I remembered what happened the night before. How the hell was I supposed to remember last week or who I met. Yet, I did know. I was sure I knew her. My subconscious knew that I would never actually be able to forget her.

“Kat.”

“There we go,” she smiled, leaning back against the grimy wall of the bar. “I knew you would remember. You were still sober when you introduced yourself.”

I chuckled embarrassedly.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m the last person in the world who would judge you for your coping mechanisms.”

“My coping mechanisms?”

“Alcohol, cigarettes and those are only the ones I know of. Look, I get it, life doesn’t treat everyone equally fair, but do you have a reason for doing what you do or are you just drinking for the heck of it?”

I walked over and sat down next to her on the dirty ground, letting my converse clad feet stretch out in front of me and putting the groceries down next to me.

“I thought the deal was no personal questions.” I pointed out.

“Well,” Kat started, offering me a drag. “I just figured, from one alcoholic to another, that I could get at least a yes or no.”

“Doesn’t everyone have a reason for doing what they do?”

“Fair point,” she nodded, taking a long drag.

“You seem different.” She was a lot more cheery than I remembered and it wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

She shifted until her free hand produced an orange bottle. She shook the object with a satisfied smile. “It’s a wonder what self-medication can do.”

“What are those?” I questioned.

“I’m not really sure,” she drawled, looking thoughtful. “So let’s call them my happy pills.”

I took the pill holder from her and looked at it. “Why do you take these?”

“Some days, like today, I just need a bit of a pick me up. I can’t afford real drugs and over the counter is good enough.”

I didn’t like the fact that she was drinking pills. I didn’t like the fact that she was drinking. She was better than all of this. I didn’t know how I knew this. I just did.

“What’s your poison?”

I sighed quietly. “Anti-depressants, lots of alcohol, uhm, I sometimes smoke weed and occasionally, but rarely, I do cocaine.”

“You’ve gone the whole nine yards,” she said wide-eyed. “So why are you out buying groceries instead of out drinking with your friends?”

I spoke to her as if I had known her for years and I felt completely at ease in her company. It was the strangest sensation.

“It’s a long story, but in short, I keep fucking up even the sensible little pieces of my life and I decided to wallow alone in my self-pity.”

“I believe it’s called depression.”

“I was on my way back home before you stopped me. If you’d like, you’re welcome to join me.” The invitation was out before I could even think about it.

She let out a little disbelieving laugh. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know you. For all I know you could be a serial killer or something.”

“Trust me, you know me better than you think. We’re the same.”

“Sorry?” She looked stunned by my last statement. It’s if I told her that the tooth fairy was real.

“We’re both rejected by the world and hide who we really are. Plus, we both turn to substances to keep us alive.”

Kat scrambled to get to her feet and looked down at me clearly upset.

“You are nothing like me. You don’t know anything about me or my problems. You can’t even begin to imagine what my life is like and I would never wish it on anyone.”

Her sudden hefty response took me by surprise and I had no idea how to respond.

“For future reference, keep your thoughts on other people’s lives to yourself.”

And then she was gone, storming away as if I had hit her. There you have it, Gerard. Not even someone as broken as you can accept your pathetic existence.

No one could blame me for going home and drinking all the liquor at my disposal. It needed to be done.