Intrigued

Chapter Eight

*Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.*

-Stephan King, Salem's Lot 

Brian's P.O.V.

Two months later

Altogether now, it had been almost three months since Roxanne left me. I think it was pretty fair to say that by now, my life had spiraled so far out of control it seemed like I wasn't even conscious of my own actions anymore. It was almost like every rational thought went out the window; my brain shut down, and I was now just going through the motions on autopilot. There wasn't a single thing I cared about anymore. Not even myself or anything that was going on in my life. My performance at work was declining, and I knew that everyone else there could see it, but I didn't care, nor could I even force myself to pretend I did. I was being a piece of shit friend, not answering anyone's texts or calls. Getting a nasty attitude with them all at work. I really just felt as if I were simply passing the time and existing, rather than living. I hadn't been happy in months, and I'd virtually just given up - on everything.

I feel like shit and all I can do is feel it.

It was Friday, and I was at the bar for the fifth time this week; I headed straight here every day, the second work was over. Sal was with me, as usual. He would not leave me by myself; I just couldn't shake him. I pretended to be annoyed by his refusal to leave my side, but I was secretly relieved. I couldn't stomach the thought of being alone in this state of mind. The only time I was ever away from Sal as of lately, was when I took my nightly lay home. I had switched depression tactics from spending every night with him, eating take-out and watching movies, to taking home any random slut that was left at the bar by the time I was ready to leave. Tonight it looked like it was going to be the tall, thin, big breasted, too-tight-dress wearing brunette, who'd been not-so-subtly eyeing me up all night. 

"Hey, let's get out of here, bud." Sal said, nudging me, as she ran her eyes over me again.

"Yeah, you're right. I'd better make my move soon before she leaves with someone else." I laughed. "Aw hell. Who am I kidding - she'll wait for me."

"I actually meant you and I should probably head home." He replied. "I mean that," he continued, shooting a look at the girl, "is just going to get you into trouble."

"Don't worry, she has a friend for you," I said, gesturing to the equally slutty blonde on her right side.

"Hard pass," Sal replied, unamused. "Hey, it's still early. We can go back to your place and order food."

"Come on, big guy, don't you think you could use a good lay?" I teased. I took another look at the blonde, laughing to myself at the thought of Sal with a girl like that.

"Your idea of a good lay tends to be synonymous with herpes. So I reiterate - hard pass."

"More for me," I replied with a grin. Sal sighed and shook his head, tossing back the rest of his beer. "What's your problem, killjoy?" I demanded. 

He was starting to piss me off. If he wasn't down to support my bad decisions, there was no reason for him to be here. I didn't need him dragging me down. I knew I was making shitty decisions, I didn't need my way-too-rational best friend to tell me that. His judgement was only making me feel worse. But these shitty fucking decisions made me feel better - and even though it was only for a very short amount of time - anything was better than nothing. And I was going to take whatever I could get right now.