The Bucketlist

60| GONE

 Midnight. The clock was ticking, Bruno had fallen asleep, and Martha was still in the living room, drinking and playing cards with her friends. I know they secretly go gambling together, but I'd rather keep that to myself. After all, all she did with the money was buy paint and books. I wait for the sleep to kick in. But it doesn't happen.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi. Six Mississippi. Fuck Mississippi. It wasn't working. Counting in my head made me more aware. At this point, I stare at my room's ceiling. The remnants of the glow stars are still there. Dad put them up for me. It's been fifteen years, and they are still there, or at least a part of them, but dad wasn't.

How lonely it must have been for mom after dad left. The house was too big for two people. I still didn't know what happened between mom and me for me to slip away to Fordshire. I guess it was a blessing in disguise. If I were to stay in Seattle, distance-work for Bexley's, it would be quicker for me to pay off my student loans.

I kicked my legs in the bed, hoping they'd calm me down and I'd wear myself down to sleep. Nothing happened. It was typical of me to do stupid things and expect something would happen. Like leaving Will without a hug and hoping he would know that though I thought he was a jerk, I still love him? Had I ever got a chance to say it to him? No. The fucking Amarnath, his sexy lips, or sometimes the almost apocalypse got in my way.

I had no idea what I was doing when I jumped out of the window, walked to the curb, and zipped my jacket up. I needed to drink and forget, and I could not do that at mom's house. Especially; when I was twenty-five and grounded.

The car keys were gone. I hit the road with my sneakers. The setting winter wind brushed mercilessly on my skin, and I thought of Will's warm arms, snuggling me in as I walked through the cold into the streets.

~

"I would have a wine, umm vodka. Maybe, whiskey!" I said, placing my order when the huge guy at the bar scrunched his nose at me as I couldn't decide for the tenth time. Alcohol was alcohol. I wanted anything that could hit me hard enough to forget every damn thought that crossed my mind and didn't let me sleep. His lip ring gleamed under the lights, and he wore studs in his pinna.

"Here, a beer!" The goth guy pulled out a mug for me, and I stared at him.

"Whiskey! I wanted a damn whiskey. Not a beer!" I said aloud, and everyone stared at me.

"What? You haven't seen a girl drinking?" I asked, and someone from the crowd snorted a laugh.

"Okay, hoodie-dork, whiskey for you. The beer's on the house." He said, and I pressed the smelly mug to my lips. It tasted awful, smelled awful, and stung as it went down my throat. I could feel the heat spreading through me. Ah, I loved it this way.

"More for me!" I shouted a little loud, thumping the mug on his counter.

"Keep it cool, youngblood!" The bartender said, and next, I got a glass of whiskey.

I gulped it down in one go, and it stung my tongue. Damn, whiskey hits harder than beer. I liked whiskey.

"Five more shots for me!" I said with a stupid grin, my pupils dilating, and I didn't feel too shitty. Whatever it was, the alcohol was working. Yeah! I am ready to get drunk.

"Make it ten shots!" I said, and the boys in the back cheered. Fucking high-school jocks who looked way too underage, I shot them a glare, and one of them walked up to me.

"Ah! You're a thing. Aren't you? Look at those legs." He said.

"Shut ya mouth up, you kiddie!" I said, patting his head, and his group of other jerk friends booed.