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Last night really frustrated me.
That was Elodie and I's first argument as a couple, which worsened everything. Although I wish things could have steered a different way and I could have given Elodie the answer she wanted, I knew I couldn't allow myself to let her leave this place and travel all alone somewhere in the world where I wouldn't be.
I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to her. I'd rather die than live a life without her present in it.
Listening to these thoughts floating around my mind shocks me to my core; who knew I'd feel so deeply towards a woman that I'd consider dedicating my entire life to her?
Even though with Elodie this consideration falls so simply into my lap, I know I'm not in the right headspace for that. And my life isn't put together enough for me to be able to worry about anything but her.
So, unfortunately - and hatefully - there are aspects I have to dedicate more time to than my own girlfriend.
Fuck, how much I hate this.
I push myself back on my chair, away from my desk and laptop, rolling my head back on the headrest.
Arguing with her last night took a toll on me entirely, as I imagine it did her too. Knowing she left my office so upset, and worse, with tears in her eyes, made my heart physically hurt and I despised the feeling.
Rethinking the events of last night made it burn even further.
I could barely sleep last night - and laying in bed awake knowing I had plenty to do the morning after wasn't a reassuring thought.
I leave my desk and head out of the office, figuring I need to walk my current state off before getting back to work. Finding anything concrete has been turned down at every drop of hope. I admit, if there is anything that coward is impressive for, it's his ability to stay hidden. Undoubtedly, he's made poor choices before, like many, but he's still managed to play a prolonged game of cat and mouse and I need him permanently gone.
I take the elevator down to the ground floor, heading straight towards the liquor room. I'm not looking for much, I need to focus and being drunk won't help with that, but it does help to liquefy all images of my mediocre decisions.
I reach the aisle I mostly prefer and pick out the simplest bottle of whiskey, taking it to the little station and uncapping it. I take a glass from the cabinet above me and place it down, pouring about half of it and screwing the top back onto the bottle.
I make it back to the office a few minutes later, sitting back down and hoping the drink eases me enough to let me produce at least something effective from today's search. The search that has been going on for way too fucking long.
I start by responding to every little detail my team seems to find about anything, even merely important, but the more I open and gain insight into things that don't help my investigations, the quicker I realise my time has been wasted yet again, and two hours of nothingness have flown by.
