Angel

Angel LXIX

ANGEL

Empty.

Numb.

What I've been this past week.

Routine is the same, wake up, fuck, drink, fight, drink, fuck, sleep.

And all over again.

I don't speak to anyone besides Lukas, and only two or three words a day, not counting the pleas for him to pound harder inside of me.

I drown the pain by fucking and drinking my empty soul out.

I don't have a care anymore. Everything feels like it isn't real, that I'm not here. I feel like a robot.

Like I'm doing things by command.

If it wasn't for Lukas, I wouldn't shower, neither eat.

I can barely eat without throwing up.

If it wasn't for him, I would wear the same clothes everyday, but he makes sure to put a new pair of sweatpants and hoodie folded on the bed for me to wear. He brushes my teeth for me.

I feel like I'm dead.

He holds me when I cry at night, always with soothing words and gestures, then fucks me when I ask.

"Caio." I call out to the bartender Lukas employed. An Asian guy, on his twenties, with almond dark eyes, and middle part dark hair who compliments his silk skin and tall frame.

"One more round?" He asks, cleaning the five shot glasses. "Yep. Keep them coming." I pat my hand on the counter, my chest leaned against it, my head being held on my palm.

I'm at my club, getting drunk because it's free and they can't put me out of here.

The least they do is call my Lukas.

"You're sure? Don't you want to slow down? Breath a little?"

How nice...

"I'm done with breathing for the day. Keep them coming." I wave my hand, making him sigh and grab new glasses, pouring more vodka in them.

I gulp them down, shitting on the lime, and liking how the liquor burns my throat.

A cigarette would feel nice now.

"Save my chair." I pat it, getting down from it, and lean against the wall to balance myself.

I head to a corner with a led red strip, and lit up my cancer stick, inhaling the nicotine.

This makes me forget.

Forget is good.

Exhaling the smoke, I tilt my head back, watching the trail of smoke go up in front of my eyes.

How relaxing...

"Hey, mama. Use some company?" A male voice asks beside me. I don't even waste time on turning to see who it is.

"I have a boyfriend." I dismiss, my voice monotonous as it has been this past week.

"Hm. Where is he?"

Getting ready to knock you out.

"Somewhere. Home. Here. Depends." I shrug, inhaling the nicotine and closing my eyes.

They snap open when the guy has the nerve to put his hands in my hips. "Come on hottie, he doesn't has to know."

I punch him, making people gasp turning the attention to us. "Don't fucking touch me." I growl, my eyes fire on him, his hand cupping his mouth who drips with blood.