Fighting Shadows!

A Chance for Reconciliation

Blake's POV

"I know, I'm fucking sorry. What do you want me to say? I panicked. I didn't ask for this Em," I yelled outside the bar, my voice filled with frustration and regret.

"You panicked? I had your mother in a bathtub with foam coming out of her mouth, your mother Blake," she said, folding her arms tightly across her chest. I could see the anger and frustration in her eyes, growing with every apology I uttered. The weight of my mistake was sinking in, causing my intoxicated body, bloody knuckles, and pounding headache to fade into the background. I could throw a punch, and make my enemies kneel, but I couldn't handle the overwhelming disappointment and frustration that radiated from this beautiful, angry woman standing before me.

I was supposed to be her saviour, her protector. I was supposed to help her confront her demons and move forward with her life. Yet, here she stood, her emotions in turmoil, fighting with every fibre of her being to face my own demons and help me heal. I never imagined being so damaged that I would leave her alone with my mother, especially in such a vulnerable state.

"I have to go," she sighed, her voice filled with exhaustion and sadness.

"Where are you going?" I slurred, still intoxicated beyond belief. I tried desperately to regain control of my emotions, but the alcohol and the rage I had just experienced made it nearly impossible.

"Home, and then work," she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and determination, as she hailed a taxi.

"Em?" I called out as she opened the taxi door, desperately grasping for some semblance of connection amidst the chaos.

"Go home Blake, your mother needs you," she said, her face stained with mascara and her beautifully pale face reflecting the turmoil of the night.

I watched as the taxi drove off with the girl I love. The words I had been too afraid to say lingered in my mind, unspoken but heavy with truth. It fucking  frightened me to my core, the intensity of my feelings for her.

I loved her so much that it consumed me, tearing at the very fabric of my being.

As the rain poured down upon me, I stood outside the bar, hoping that the downpour would wash away the tangled mess of emotions within me. But rain could never cleanse the scars that lay deep within my soul.

I knew I should go home, and face the woman who abandoned me as a child, and now expected me to help her. The irony of it all twisted my gut.

Summoning what little strength I had left, I raised my hand in my drunken stupor, hailing a passing taxi. I stumbled into the backseat and directed the driver to my apartment.

"Wait, take me to the liquor store first," I slurred, my words barely coherent.

The taxi driver nodded and pulled up to the nearest open bottle store. I stumbled out, my body weighed down by the heavy burden of my emotions. I bought a bottle of vodka and a pack of cigarettes, seeking solace in the temporary relief they provided.

By the time the taxi driver pulled up to my apartment, I had finished the bottle and smoked half the pack of cigarettes. My mind whispered that perhaps marijuana would have been a better choice, but Vicky, my frequent companion in such endeavours, was not with me. I refused to venture into the dark alleys where drugs and cheap thrills were readily available.

I ascended the stairs to my apartment, my movements unsteady and uncoordinated. Each step felt like a battle, an uphill climb against the weight of my past.

Finally, I reached my front door and stumbled inside, where my mother sat at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of water. The sight of her instantly filled me with a mix of anger and resignation.