E. Blair - Falling

Two pills. Two fuckin blue pills. I swore Id stop this shit, but I cant stand the pain that still radiates in the back of my head where he shattered his beer bottle the other night. I hate that Im just like himdependent on this shit. Fuck it.

Tossing them into my mouth, I pour the cheap tequila down my throat and relish the burn that singes in my chest. My body falls lifelessly back onto the bed while the muffled music pounds through the walls.

Give me some, Rene says. Or is it Rachel? Who the hell cares? She pulls the bottle out of my hand and takes a draw of the amber liquid.

Handing it back to me, all I see is a hazy shadow as I feel her crawl on top of me. This chick leeched herself to me when I walked into this party earlier. I knew shed be an easy lay, and when she shoves her hand down my pants and grabs my dick, she proves me right.

I dont even try to focus as my body starts to weigh down from the effects of the pills. I love this feeling. Numb. Heavy. Warm. Hazy. It takes me over, and I dont even realize that this girl is now fucking me until I look up. Closing my eyes, I begin to drift. Drift from the hell that consumes me. Its Saturday night. The night he stays out late drinking just to come home and impale everything he hates about his life into me.

Waking up, head still heavy, vision clearer, I sit on the edge of the bed. I look over my shoulder and see some redhead, naked, sleeping. Who is she? I dont remember what happened, but I know we screwed because my pants are flung across the room, and I see the used condom on the floor.

My watch says its after one in the morning, and I need to get home. Pulling on my pants, I stumble slightly as I make my way through the house filled with people I barely know, drinking, dancing, making out.

When I start my car, I know I shouldnt be driving, but I also know that I need to go because my dad normally drags his drunk-ass in around this time. I hate knowing that my mom will be there alone with him.

Pulling up to the dark grey, two-story house I have always lived in, I cant help but think about how the impeccably manicured structure is simply a mask for the madness that lives within. My stomach clenches when I see his truck in the driveway. I shut the car off and rush inside, but I know Im too late when I hear my mother crying. Bolting through the house and into the kitchen, I get there just in time to see my dad swinging his arm around and smashing a coffee mug into the side of her head. Turning to face me, her face is void as she falls to the floor, blood everywhere.

What are you looking at, you piece of shit? he spits at me, and I fuckin lose it.

My body roils with vengeance when I charge at him, and we tumble, crashing to the floor. Rage takes over as I begin to pound my fists into his face relentlessly. Over and over. Skin splitting. Blood gushing. The sounds of my mom screaming and the grunts I force out with every blow to his face are a distant echo in my head.

He thrashes beneath me, but I dont stop. I know Im gonna kill him, and I hope I do. My teeth snap shut when he drives his palm into my jaw, causing me to bite my tongue. He continues to fight his way out from under me, flailing his arms, and dumping shit everywhere when he yanks one of the kitchen drawers out of its tracks.

My mouth fills with blood, and just when I spit it into his face, I fall over onto the floor.

Fuck! I scream through gritted teeth as I grab my side. I hear the clatter of metal falling to the ground and watch my fathers black boots stumbling away from me.

Cold shivers prick at my body, and my vision fades as my breathing becomes more and more shallow. My mothers warm arms scoop my shoulders onto her lap as she cries, and I let my head fall to the side. When I see the bloody butchers knife, I lift my shaking hand thats clutched to my side and raise it in front of my face. All I see is red.

I wake up the next morning, body sore and twenty-seven stitches in my side, along my ribs, where that son of a bitch stabbed me last night. Sitting up, I flinch against the stinging flesh. My mom is still asleep. I made her stay in my bed last night in case my father came back home, which he didnt.

I quietly make my way downstairs and feel the guilt from everything that happened last night flood through my veins. If Id never gone out, my mother probably wouldnt be sleeping in my bed with a concussion and stitches in her head.

Ive been so selfish lately and getting too fucked up on ecstasy and alcohol to protect my mom. The drinking, the drugs, the rage that fired through me last nightIm him. Hes a part of me. He runs through my blood. I hate him. I dont want to be him, but I am.

Having him consume me like this makes me sick to my stomach, and I swear to God, I will do everything I can to avoid what I fear is destined to be my future. Ive gotta stop the fuckin pills. Ive gotta . . .

A loud knocking on the door pulls me out of my thoughts, and when I make my way to the front of the house and open the door, two cops are standing there, staring at me with a look I cant quite make out.

Taking off his hat, one cop asks, Is this the home of Richard Campbell?

Hey, boss. That clown you call your friend is asking for you.

Im finishing up, I tell Max as I sign off on a few orders. How long has he been here?

Standing in the doorway to my office, he answers, Not long. Half an hour or so.

I dont say anything as I finish up my paperwork and toss my pen on the desk, leaning back in my chair with a deep sigh.

Everything okay?

Tired, I say as I look up at my friend. Max has worked for me for a few years now. He serves as security ever since business picked up at the bar after I bought it out from its previous owner. Hes a good guy and extremely loyal, which makes him a commodity I cant afford to lose. Beneath his shaved head and insane build that intimidates most people that walk through the doors here, hes got a big heart.

Call it a night, man. Its late, and youve been up here all day.

Yeah. I push back from my desk and stand up, making my way out of the office. When I pass Max, I clap his back, saying, Im gonna go talk to Gav then head out.

Max follows as we walk down the stairs and into the bar that Ive owned since I graduated from the University of Washington. This place has become a second home to me. Its where I spend most of my time.

Bumping shoulders through the crowd of people, I spot my old college buddy, Gavin, tossing back a bottle of beer.

Ryan, dude? Where the hell have you been?

Working.

Mel! he shouts over to one of the bar girls. Get this old man a beer.

No, Mel. Im good, I tell her, and she just shakes her head at Gavin, knowing what a partier he is.

Whats up with you tonight?

Tired, man.

You not staying?

Before I can answer, a tall blonde catches my eye as she starts making her way through the crowd and up to the bar. She steps next to me and leans over the bar top to get Mels attention, and when I eye her, Gavin mumbles, Yeah, youre staying, all too knowingly.

Ryan, right? the blonde asks as she turns to look at me, and when I nod my head, she introduces herself with a slow, Im Gina, trying to sound sexy, but its lost on me cause I couldnt give a shit what her name is. Girls like her are an almost daily occurrence.

Have we met before or something? I ask since she already knows who I am.

Not officially. Ive seen you around though. She grins at me as she says this, but her fake tits are too distracting for me to focus on her face. Its when she giggles that I snap my attention up. You own this place, right?