A tear streaked down his face, a hot angry tear. He swiped at his rough skin fiercely. "Suck it up, pussy!" He told himself. It had been years, so why the fuck was he crying? Because it still hurt, dumb-ass. You'll never forget about her. You'll never be able to forget what you did to her, not now, not ever, Brady's inner voice told him, as he raised the pistol to his temple. He took another fast swig of the amber liquid, fisted in his palm. It was the only thing that had been getting him through life to this point. It was his only friend. His finger trembled against the cool metal trigger of the gun. The thoughts and images cascaded through his mind, lingering in deep places he tried to forget but never succeeded.
"Fuck her!" He screamed down at the racing cars. "Fuck her and fuck him!" He yelled more violently, more evil than he at one time thought capable. She did this to him. She fucked him up so bad, he saw no end. Only one thing would help and that one thing was a solid metal bullet rushing through his brain at speeds unknown to him. Quick and easy. All he wanted was to end it all. He had suffered, tortured himself until he was at the brink and then back again. But now, there was only one solution, one logical choice.
In death, he hoped to forget her, but even he knew that wasn't possible. Every night he could still see her full, crimson lips speaking to him in foreign tongues, touch her soft, flowing hair, taste her creamy skin. There was no relief to the ache in his heart. The pills, the hard drugs, the alcohol, none of it helped. Women. What fucking women? There would be no one but her. Even the thought of
touching another made him physically ill. Imagining touching, needing, being inside, apart of another female was revolting. There was only one lady for him. One he could never have again.. Chloe.
Her name on his lips was like a curse, he could never absolve. She was the demon that woke him in the middle of the night, sweating and barely able to breathe. She was the beauty that corrupted his every waking hour, so that no matter what he did, she was still the image his mind blurred to when he tried to forget. But no more.
How do you fight with someone who no longer exists? How can you make a woman love you, when she pines for your dead uncle? How do you make things right again? The answer. You can't. Brady had stopped trying. Chloe was resigned to loving Philip and hating him for the rest of their lives.
If only that night had never happened.
TBC
please review, so I know whether to continue or not