Everything & More (Book 1 in the E.C.N Series)

Chapter 1-Martha

"Fuck!"... "Piece of shit!"... "Fucking bastard!".

My feet were already moving before the front door was slammed shut. I made it to the bathroom just in time. On my knees, face buried as the contents of my stomach were emptied leaving me dry heaving for another five minutes. I coughed up what I could and gave one final spit into the toilet before I flushed. Using the sink counter, I hauled myself onto my feet. The reflection in the mirror made my stomach churn.

As if there's anything left inside of me

All I was able to see was the broken and disheveled 26-year-old woman staring back at me. My hair was matted from the sweat on my forehead and tangled from the number of times I pulled at it. I had overly flushed cheeks with dried mascara running down them. If you thought that was bad it was nothing compared to my eyes. Just like my stomach, they were empty, I didn't look like me. I sure as hell didn't feel like me, not by a long shot. They were puffy, red, and tired looking with fresh unshed tears hiding at the brim. My lips trembled on their own accord and I couldn't stop the strangled cry that ripped from my throat as my fist clenched around the counter. Those unshed tears made a home on my skin and they were warm as they cascaded down my face.

I believe that you remember a lot of bad memories more than good ones. Didn't you ever notice that? That the good memories are vague feelings and snapshots of happy moments but the bad ones...the fucking bad ones. They stick and are perfectly vivid for you to re-experience, like it was the first time. To the point that your stomach turns to knots. I knew 20 years from now I would be able to recall every item of clothing thrown, every word spoken, and every tear shed. That fact alone made me want to die.

I swung the bathroom door open, wielding my body to leave. Creaks in the floorboard were louder under my feet as I slowly made my way through the hall and down the stairs. The hot burning sensation behind my eyes was heightened ten-fold as I approached the living room. It was medium-sized and only being lit by the floor lamp in the corner of the window. The light illuminated off of the ivory and eggshell-colored furniture making it only slightly brighter than a torch in a cave. Moving deeper, I began to scan the remnants of what tonight brought. Glass continuously crunching beneath my shoes made me realize just how many vases were thrown. Men's clothing and products scattered everywhere. The crunch underneath my foot turned harder, jerking my attention downward.

Shit it's a picture frame

As I bent down to retrieve it, I silently prayed I hadn't broken one of the many family portraits we had. Turning it over, more unshed tears made their way onto my cheeks as I took in the photo. It was from my wedding, just him and I staring at eachother like no one else mattered. Happy smiles shined back at me making me just want to rewind the clock far enough that I could avoid all of it. The photo dangled in one hand at my side as I attempted to run the other through the mess at the top of my head. My chest was heavy as I breathed in and out slowly, I felt as though the walls were closing in around me and someone had been standing on my chest waiting for my ribcage to cave.

The need to move jolted my legs down the hallway and into the kitchen. Stopping at the entrance my eyes traced across how pure everything must look. Every piece of furniture was some shade of white. My house looked like a virgin's wedding dress every turn you made, only to be accented with some photos that were hanging on the walls. The kitchen was the worst part, flora white countertop, snow white tile, ivory cabinets, and a dove white shade kitchen table. Nothing made the nauseating feeling worse, nothing was pure about this fucking house.

I placed the frame down on the countertop, opened a transparent cabinet door revealing a bottle of scotch that I had my sites on. I took the bottle down and contemplated taking one of the glasses that was perched right next to the alcohol. This probably wasn't the smartest idea but I couldn't find a reason to give two fucks.