Another pointless day in Solana's timeline felt normal at this point.
It had been six years since Nikki's death, and five since the divorce. Logan could not bear to look at the woman knowing they both hated each other for what they did.
If it wasn't for Logan's jealousy, Becker wouldn't have gotten thrown off the roof. And, if it wasn't for Solana's fear of letting go, she wouldn't have used her powers. Therefore, they both felt like fuck-ups who could never be forgiven, not even by God himself.
As soon as Logan found out Nikki was gone, he cried for the first time in years. That girl brought out the best in her and he didn't know what life would be like without her. So, he opted to the bottle. Mindless gulps of alcohol constantly meeting his throat was his only form of therapy. Not even Solana.
Sol was tired of feeling alone. She had no daughter and practically no husband. So, what was the point of staying with a man who reminded her of her troubled life? None.
They filed a divorced about a year after Nikki's passing, knowing it was for the best. They lost everything, so going to court for finalization felt like a walk in the park.
After that, Sol started drinking. She felt like a huge hypocrite, being that alcohol was why she and Logan fell out of love, but, what else did she have? Pain? Yes.
Her heart ached for more than what she had every day. She wanted her old life back. Movie nights with Nikki on her lap and Logan's arm around her shoulder... Shopping sprees with her daughter just to make her happy...there was nothing she wanted more than to see Nikki's smile on her precious lips once again. Just once.
She would give anything. Anything.
Sol was once again remembering her past as she sat at the counter of her local bar. She had already had a shot or two of whiskey, and there were no plans on stopping. She was a regular, an unwanted, annoying regular, and she knew that. But she couldn't give less of a fuck.
A red headed, female bartender scowled at the sound of Solana singing to a song she played in her head. She was a known drunk singer. She tapped her fingers on the wooden table rhythmically, humming the lyrics she spawned in her head.
"You just hit me with the truth Now, girl you're more than welcome to So, give me one good reason, Baby come on." Sol trailed off at the sight of the woman's confused stare. She planted her head on the bar table in embarrassment, feeling tear well in her eyes. She was also a known drunk crier.
"I'm not a good singer." She pouted, covering her head with her arms.
The bartender, Amy, rolled her eyes and rubbed the inside of Sol's used shot glass with a rag. "Damn right."
"See—th-that's the part where you contradict me... and tell me I have a hidden talent." Sol slurred, smiling to lighten up the situation. She hated saying it, but she was manipulative. She just wanted another shot, so she had to get on Amy's good side.
"You don't. You literally have the worst voice ever." The woman responded, placing the glass back in its designated spot.
"Ah, come on." Sol sprouted up, leaning back in her chair to make sure she look casual. "I'm not that bad. I think I deserve another shot for the effort it put in to those vocals." She tapped her finger on the wood once again.
Amy sighed, throwing the rag onto her shoulder. She leaned forward with her arms on the edge of the counter. "No, Sol. You know I can't."
