BLACKHOUSE [H.S.]

Forty-Nine

Chapter song:

I May Be Evil by Landon Tewers

-

"Cheer up, mate," Niall says, elbowing me in the ribs as I stare down at the sticky table in front of me. "It's your birthday. At least try to have some fun."

I roll my eyes at his optimistic tone, scoffing before I take a swig of my third beer of the night.

The guys insisted on dragging me out for my thirtieth birthday, assuring me that it would help get my mind off of Katie. If anything, being stuck in this shitty bar on a Wednesday night has only made me feel worse.

Katie had so many plans for my birthday, so many ideas for how to make it special for me, for us. She was so excited to spend it together.

This night out with them, when it was supposed to be shared with her, is just another reminder of what I did - what I lost.

It's been nearly two weeks since I broke up with her, and each new day has been worse than the last. I've had to be drunk, or high to just get through the day, but even the constant substance abuse hasn't erased the images that plague my mind. Images from that night, of the look on her face, and the way she stared at me like I was a monster, haunt me. The things I said to her...

It makes me sick to my fucking stomach.

I finally returned to work today after Louis threatened to drag me out of my flat by my shirt, only to discover that she's taking a week off, starting today. No doubt to avoid seeing me. And as much as I miss her, I don't blame her for staying away.

I'd want to stay away, too, if I were her.

"So," Lucas clears his throat, pursing his lips before continuing, "How have you been holding up?"

I flick my attention to him, then to Elijah, Niall, Louis, and back to Lucas. They're all wearing the same pitying expression, and it causes a wave of anger to roll through me. I grit my teeth before pushing my hair back with my fingers.

"Fucking fantastic," I monotone, finishing off my beer before gesturing to the waitress for another.

"Have you spoken to Katie at all?" Louis asks apprehensively. The sound of her name alone makes me wince.

"No," I whisper, staring down at the empty bottle in my hand. I have to fight the urge to shatter the clear glass on the ground, the idea that it might ease even a small amount of the rage simmering within me is temptation enough.

"Maybe you should," he continues, tapping his fingers nervously on the table.

I raise a brow as I stare at him blankly. "And why would I do that?" I ask.