Behind My Killer Heels [3] | ON HOLD | OLD VERSION | INCOMPLETE

Chapter Twenty-One

I had become numb to the sensation that came with the strong spirits I'd been downing for the past hour.

I didn't know what to feel, I'd cried until my tear ducts couldn't weep anymore, I'd screamed and yelled my voice hoarse, I'd managed to rollercoaster through every possible emotion within the last 5 hours and now here I was, sitting at a bar, making my way through my second bottle of whiskey, numb.

It wasn't that I'd never experienced death in my life because I had, it was just that I was supposed to keep her alive.

She wasn't supposed to die. She was never supposed to go cold, lifeless. That was never the plan. But then here I was...I was drunk and she was dead.

I'd left the hospital after I cried in the bathrooms, on the rooftop and in my car.

I left after yelling and screaming at Dr Black, accusing her of not trying hard enough even though I knew there was nothing she could've done.

I drove for an hour, my vision blurred by tears, my breathing interrupted by the phantom hiccups that reminded me of my heavy sobs.

I felt like shit. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt like this and quite frankly I didn't want to remember.

Somehow after calming down eventually I was desperate to put some liquor to my lips. A bad habit, I knew it very well, but it was an unacceptable coping method that I'd accepted.

I looked up at the clock behind the bar but couldn't manage to tell the time.

It was late. That was all I knew.

The bartender kept refilling my glass with ice like I asked him to while I poured the whiskey from the bottle onto the ice. I was surprised I was able to keep such a steady hand while doing it.

The golden liquid sloshed around in my glass and I looked into the bottom of the glass, losing myself in the liquor. I managed to block out every sound in my surroundings except for the steady ticking of the clock overhead.

It was slightly hypnotic and in the state I was in I was already heavily susceptible to visions.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tick.

Tock.

When I woke up I was disorientated. My head felt like it was split into a million pieces, each piece set on fire and then sent through a grinder. I struggled to open my eyes as they burned heavily.

I sat up and looked around me.

I was in a bed.

It took a while for me to realise where I was but I was happy to find that this was my own bed. I had zero clue as to how I'd gotten home, when I'd gotten home or even how I got into this bed of mine.

But judging from the note on the bedside table I guess I hadn't come home alone last night.

Kitten,

I had to go to work but I'll be back tonight to check on you. You'll probably be in a bad way so take it easy and I'll see you later.

Whoever this guy was he hadn't put his name anywhere so I had no clue who he was but I guess I'd find out later when he came back...if he came back.

I remembered nothing from last night and the fact that there was a guy involved now made me more confused than ever. How did I manage to get a guy to come home with me when I could barely walk last night?