Someone you loved.

—-

'I'm going under, and this time I feel there's no-one to save me.'

This all or nothing way really got a way of driving me crazy'

'I need somebody to heal'

'Somebody to know'

'Somebody to have'

Somebody to hold'

'It's easy to say'

But it's never the same'

'I guess I loved the way you numbed all the pain'

Peter eyed the open bottle of whisky placed on the table in front of him with a longing gaze.

It was teasing him, goading him.

Just one sip.

One sip.

He recognized full well that it was taking all his restraint, not to succumb to the luring temptation of the liquid. The elation he would feel within spitting distance. He could almost taste it. The welcome, familiar burning, as it would glide easily down the back of his throat. Enveloping him in a warm embrace, like a favorite blanket. An old friend. An old friend he tried to resist, yet, he would predictably, eventually, return to.

It was his only crutch. His only safe place. The only vice he had that could, for now, ease his pain. His only comfort. His only need.

Except,

For her, that is.

But where was she?

Where was she, when he needed her?

Where was she, when his life was falling apart in front of his very eyes?

How could she not see?

How could she not know, this was all an act?

Except, she probably did.

Of course she did,

She knew him better than anyone.

Better than he knew himself.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that's why she was pretending not to care.

If she was honest, with herself, and him. She cared. She cared a great deal.

Peter knew it would have broken her heart when she'd discovered he'd given Toyah another chance.

He also knew, if he'd just say the word, she'd come running. He knew all this, yet, did nothing.

He realized the residents could not fathom that he'd forgiven Toyah.

Well, he hadn't, not really. What was the alternative though? Spending a future alone, wishing, for a past, present and future with...her...

Peter also knew that Toyah meant no malice. She had done all this out of sheer desperation. Who was he, peter, to begrudge any desperate, selfish, acts. After all, he'd pressed self destruct too many times, more than he cared to remember.

Toyah, was in truth, a broken soul. A broken soul, just like him. Two broken souls, trying to do the best of their sad existence, craving the one thing they could both never have. Toyah a child, and him...her.

What did he think of Susie, now?. Honestly, he didn't know.

He had been reluctant at first, but he'd warmed to the idea. The thought of getting to be a father again. He couldn't help feeling though, that he wished another woman carried his baby. The woman which plagued every thought, consciously, subconsciously. She was there. All the time. She'd never left.

Why should things have worked out for him...maybe, this was his punishment. Maybe he was supposed to hurt, like he'd hurt so many people, like he'd hurt her. Maybe, he was supposed to feel a fraction of what she did. His baby had died. Their baby...and it was his fault.

Toyah was out. The curse of being his own landlord now defeating him. His eyes fixated on the bottle, roving between it and the tumbler sat beside it. Waiting, waiting.

Gingerly, he picked up the bottle. His hands shaking, as he slowly began to pour. The gurgle welcome, as he inhaled the sweet, smooth, scent, threatening to ingulf his nostrils.

How he wished she would walk in, right here, right now. Swipe the poison from his sweaty, clammy, hands. Berate him, ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. The fury turning into wild, uninhibited, passion, as it always had done.

But she never came.

tentatively, he picked up the tumbler.

And raised it to his lips.

Now the day bleeds, into night fall

And you're not here,

To get me through it all

I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved'

'And the day leads,W