Burning Side Of The Cigarette

Chapter One: Right Into It

 Molly's perspective:

I woke up and immediately realized that it was a bizarre hour. It felt like it was the middle of the night because I was still very much sleepy but it was bright outside. Bright without sunshine. The whole room was grey. I rubbed my eyes and tried to stand up sitting on the bed. My whole body felt like it did not belong to me, like the feeling when you get so drunk and you can only feel the thing that you touch, not your body. I scanned the room with my eyes when I found the strength to open them. When I looked to my right I saw him sitting on the chair in front of the desk. I gasped in horror.

- God, you scared me Eddie!

He didn't respond. He didn't even react. He just continued to stare to the floor. His hair was messy and tangled. His chain was dangling down from his veiny neck. His little curls were looking messed up and were covering his face like curtains on the window. His bangs were sticking right into his eyes. I frowned in confusion and lowered my head in slow motions because my neck was sore. I realized that he was holding an empty whisky glass with just a little bit of half-melted ice inside.

- Well somebody woke up in the mood this morning.

I said and smiled. He didn't respond. It was like I was talking to myself and he couldn't hear me. I was wondering why he was acting so strangely like something bad happened but I thought it could've been nothing because I know him better than anyone. His reaction to disaster is screaming, shouting, throwing things. Sitting in silence, that's something I've never seen him do before. So I thought he was just tired because of the party last night.

I rubbed my hand through my hair, arched my back and said,

- Can I get one of those too, Jack Daniels on the rock with cherries?

And then I started laughing because I thought about that one time I asked him to put cherries in my glass meaning those candied, pickled cherries and he came back with literal cherry haribos swimming in whiskey and I started laughing,

- Hey, remember that one time when you brought me-

- Stop it.

He whispered. I froze. Never seen him so serious. Watched him in confusion while he slowly lifted his head up to look at me. He was angry. I could tell. He put his glass on the table behind him and turned back to me.

- Stop what?

I asked. My voice was shaking because I didn't know what was going on. It just looked like an early Saturday morning to me.

He stayed silent while spreading his legs to the sides and cracking his neck. It was almost impossible to read his facial expressions. He was looking angry, disappointed almost. But he wasn't talking, he wasn't yelling. He was just sitting there with his ripped black jeans and his white long sleeved shirt.

- Is something wrong?

He put together his arms around his head and looked down. His big chunky rings clicked together. He sighed and opened his legs even more. I was starting to get mad. He wouldn't answer me so what more could I do? I got out of the sheets and tried to get up on my feet. The floor felt so cold so I shivered. I had a little hard time finding my balance but I started walking to the window anyway. I pulled down his big t-shirt which I was wearing to cover up my little shorts and took the cigarette pack from the night stand and secretly gave him a look to check if he was watching me. No. He was still looking down with his head buried in his hands. I pulled one out and tried to light it up but I couldn't. I tried again but the lighter wasn't working and that was my last straw. I threw it on the bed and inhaled to start shouting in anger but he suddenly stood up so I turned to look at him.