𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 M.R.

𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆

,,If  the universe gives you a chance at happiness,  take it." - A

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The alcohol burned my throat. The familiar pain  whisked away with every sip. It helped me forget.

Forget the war, forget the pain and burden.  Forget the loss of my love. Forget the Prophecy.

Balance between good and bad..

Another long sip of alcohol.

...vanquish  the end of us all..

The liquid burned my throat, again and again.

..end the boy to safe the world...

Not even the alcohol could make me forget that part. Another broken bottle, among many others.

How long has it been since? Days ? Weeks?  Time wasn't  a priority anymore. Every day felt the same.

Waking up late in the afternoon, too hangover to remember. Laying there until I could get up. And when I managed to, I'd shower.

The highest temperature burning my skin,  red marks all over my body. Feeling a different type of pain made me forget.

Please...I'm giving up..

There was no point in trying . After showering I'd remember. But then the alcohol came and all the sober thoughts were gone. All the pain replaced by the burning feeling in my throat.

The night sky was my only entertainment. Sometimes I'd wonder If I went insane because I could swear it heard my prayers.  Acknowledge them and sometimes, when it was so quiet I felt as if the world heard my heartbeat, that's when the night sky whispered back.

The window sill had small dents. Little marks my fingers left behind when the pain was so bad I had to hold myself back from ending it. 

Food became a problem that was pushed to the back of my mind. I was either too drunk or too tired to care about food. Thankfully the food from the kitchen didn't vanish like everyone else so whenever I needed to eat, I could just conjured some from the kitchen.

Why me?

Sometimes I wondered If there's any way I could go back and fix everything.  There was no one to blame but me. I was the one that chose to mangle with something my parents tried their whole life to protect me from. What good was it? My mother is dead and my father is a sad alcoholic. 

On top of that,  my own brother was dying.  I knew he was, there was no other way. Not only have I lost my brother but the love of my life.

I never thought I could love someone as much as I love him. But what good was it? He's gone, everyone is. And all because of me.

So why keep fighting? What could possibly change anything ?

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The sun was peeking through the curtains,   a new  reminder that I'm still here.  Another pathetic day has passed and all I could do was sit around and drown myself in alcohol.

I rubbed at my blood shut eyes, dry tears left from the night before. Somehow I expected the tears to stop coming, finally become numb.

But they never stopped.

I let my hands slide down my face, the tip of my fingers poking into my cheekbones. It's been too long since I stared at myself in the mirror.

A piece of clothing hung loosely over the body length mirror. I was too anxious to look, too scared of what I would see.