Death and Life

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The world spins hard around me, and I can't find it in myself to care. I might as well just drink myself to death.

I already feel dead.

Downing another shot, I wince at the burning feeling when I swallow it. It's not enough. I don't want to even remember my name.

It's been a whole week. A week full of heavy drinking, fighting and crying. A week without him.

"Hey, mate," The bartender calls over to me, his face blurring in my eyes. "I think you've had enough."

Anger pulses inside me.

Go through what I've been through and I'll tell you when I've had enough.

"Jus' give me 'nother," I shout and point. "I swear t' God."

"Come on," A voice says beside me, and tugs at my shoulder. I flail around trying to hit the person, before being picked up. "Get out and stay out."

Falling through the air, I land hard on the concrete pavement outside the pub.

Ow. I hiss before barely managing to stand up, using the wall to pull myself up. I lean against it, thinking of a plan for more drink.

Somewhere had to be open, maybe a 24 hour supermarket would be open for booze. Yeah, I'll head to Asda.

I stumble forward, taking each pace slowly but surely, because right now alcohol was very important.

"Louis?" A voice calls and its not who I want to hear, not now or ever. My head flicks around. A tall man stands with blonde hair flicked away from his dark brown eyes that I used to melt for.

Jack.

"What?" I grumble. He crosses his arms.

"Are you drunk?"

"So what if I am?" I spit. "I don' fuckin' belong to you anymore."

"Do you know what you look like?" He grimaces at me. I frown.

"Like I give a shit what you think."

"Don't swear at me, Louis." He threatens, taking a pace towards me. I'm drunk enough that I match his step.

"Fuck. You."

His fist collides with my face, and air gets forced from my mouth as I hit the wall. He looks shocked at what he's done but I don't even feel it.

"Is that all you've got? Felt like a baby, Jack. Bet you always wanted to hit me." I coo, trying to get him to hit me harder.

"Stop it."

"You piece of shit," I laugh, aware of a little bit of blood falling down my chin so I wipe it. "Don' know what I saw in you."

He growls before hitting me again, but this time he hits me in the stomach and I fall to the ground with a loud groan. I laugh when I hit the floor.

"You always did put me down," I smile horribly up at him. "You useless cunt."

That's when he kicks me in the stomach, forcing a real cry of pain out from me. He gets down to my level and hits me in the face again, and again, and again.

"I never loved you." He spits into my bloodied face, before standing up and walking away.

This is where I lay, numb to the world, right where I want to be until I pass out from the pain.

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I wake up to two feelings. Utter warmth and coziness, and extreme pain.

Broken Repair (Larry Stylinson)Where stories live. Discover now