Drowning

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"We cannot tear out a single page of our life, but we can throw the whole book in the fire."

- George Sand

Everything is caving in as it was suppose to. I couldn't expect much more. My past was gonna catch up to me eventually. And it did, at the perfect time.

The second I got back to my apartment I poured myself a shot of vodka and downed it dry. I got my suitcase out, started throwing clothes in, a few more expensive bottles, found all the hidden bags of my "medicine", my chemicals, let's say poisons, loaded my pistol, dug out my magazines, suppresors, anything I could find. In my closet, under the sofa, behind the bed, in the kitchen, bathroom. Anywhere. I could have so much hidden and I don't even know about it anymore.

There's a knock on the door.

That can't be the police. Matt said he will think it through first. Though I lied about so much, why wouldn't he do the same.

What if it's him? Or both him and my death sentence.

The knocking intensified.

Someone's yelling my name out. The voice is familiar. It's not Walsh, I can make out that much.

I unlocked it and James burst in.

He reeks of scotch.
The cheap kind.

Without getting a chance to say a word he pinned me to a wall.

Just what I needed right now...

"J-James! Let go of me, James!" I struggled under him, trying to push him of me. "I can't do this right now, you need to leave!"

"Did you forget about the rules again?" He grabbed me by my neck, his weight pressed against me.

"James, I'm serious. Let go of me. Please leave." I turned my head from him in disgust, trying to pull his hand away.

With his other hand he reached straigh down for my ass, violently gropping it.

"I thought you were MY good girl. What happened?" He growled inches away from my face, tightening his grip.

He unbuckled his belt, his pants fell and his member sprung free.

James slid his hand down to my panties, pulled them aside and started touching me.

"Please stop! JAMES PLEASE! I'm begging you! This is not the right time!" My knees pressing to each other did nothing. I can't fight him like that.

I had no choice, no way to keep myself silent. I started letting out moans barely breathing, tears burning my face as they tumble down my cheeks.

He let go of my neck and threw me down to the floor under him. I'm grasping for air. His hip closing in to my face.

The slightest push is enough to drive you over the edge. Break your mind in a certain way.

It makes everything around you slow down but keeps your mind spinning faster than ever.

What is happening? Why is this happening? Who caused this?
The answer is pretty clear.
It's all because of what I created of myself. I am a slut, an addict, an alcoholic, a murderer of the innocent and the guilty.

I can't see anything. Theres fog in my eyes covering every action. But I don't need to see, I finally got a clear view of what my life is worth.

My hands felt the floor under, the wall behind, a menace in front. The surroundings brought back my senses.

FRAGILEDove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora