Page 31 of Sweet Little Lies
“Shit.”
Swinging open the kitchen door and windows, I grab a potholder and yank open the oven, which only serves to flood more smoke into the tiny apartment kitchen. But the smoke alarm finally dies off and my frantic waving of the towel in the air has increased the visibility a little.
Just my luck. Could this day get any worse?
My head throbs with a tension headache and I’m now out of beer with no food to feed Mica.
FML.
Dropping the blackened round disk into the sink, I flush it with water, turning on the disposal to get rid of the evidence of my failure.
Fail. That’s what you are. You’re a failure. A screw up. A no-good, fucking bastard.
The bitter hate-filled insults from my father haunt me as I walk back down the hallway to my bedroom, pulling open my top dresser drawer and locating the bottle of Oxy from the rolled up sock in the back.
It’s my prescription, one that I got after an injury last year, so it’s legal and all, but I keep it hidden away so I’m not tempted to finish it off. Most days I can fend off those thoughts with workout sessions, basketball training or booze. But right now, after that fucking nightmare and the drama with Mica’s nephew earlier today, I just can’t deal.
I open up the bottle and shake out two pills in my hands, staring at the white tablets like they hold all the answers to all my problems.
My fist opens and closes several times as I head back to the kitchen to grab some water. I take my time on this decision. Because fuck all, I know they’ll make me feel good. And I’ll want more. They’ll dull the pain that lives inside me caused by years of my father’s abuse and the emptiness I feel every day of my life from missing my brother.
For causing his death.
Throwing the pills into the back of my mouth, I tip the glass of water to my lips and take a long drink. They go down without a problem.
I close my eyes and wait.
Wait for the calm that will eventually snake through my veins. Will unbundle the nerves that are jumbled up in knots in my stomach. Will quiet the ever-present bitter words that cut me to the core from my own self-loathing.
And once that happens, I’ll be back to my old self again.
I’ll be fun Lance – the one everyone adores and finds so funny and amusing.
The guy that can make people laugh and who feed on my energy, but holds nothing but darkness inside.
