I breathe for nothing. I get up every morning for nothing. No one. Every night, a different girl lay beside me as I fall asleep but when I awaken, not a soul is there. The sheets are cold and unfilled. No warmth. Just like my heart. Maybe I've just been fooling myself into believing that they love me. Perhaps Spirit has finally taken dominance of my mentality. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe there never was a Rose Hathaway and maybe…just maybe, this entire thing was all my imagination. I have a good imagination, after all; but I could never dream up something as mind-blowing and remarkable as her.
"No," I cry aloud. "Stop thinking about her that way; it wont do you any good."
Nothing ever does. My vision blurs and the bottle of Vodka that lay on the pillow next to me transforms into a figure of a stunning creature; russet colored eyes, tanned skin, undulating brunette hair, and incredible curves. She gazes up at me through her lashes and her full lips pull up into a smirk. Such a lovely mouth filled with lustrous white teeth. Such a lovely mouth filled words that can make any man swoon…or break any man's heart into a million pieces.
I reach out to touch her, to caress that smooth skin, to hold her in my arms one last time and ask for forgiveness; for what? For nothing…. for everything. I want to beg for her to take me back, to forget about Dimitri, to let him go but I know she won't. I realized a long time ago that asking of that would be too much, that my breath would be wasted on nothing, coming in one ear and out the other. I still try.
My fingertips are mere inches away from her jaw, when she vanishes; Disappears into thin air and in her place is the bottle of vodka. "She's gone," a voice in my head snarls "She left you just like she did before. Rose is no longer yours" She never was mine, I realize. All that time that I spent flowering her with gifts, luxuries, kisses, and promising her anything she wanted was of no use. All she wanted was Dimitri. And that was the one thing I couldn't give her.
The thought makes me furious. I snatch the bottle from the bed with shaking hands and hurl it at the wall. The glass shatters into little pieces and fall to the ground. The liquor trickles down the wall, like tears that I refuse to cry. Some of the glass that had rebound lay by my bare feet. I don't care to clean it up. My whole body is trembling. The sound of the glass bursting echoes in my ears. I can feel the anger in the air as if it were almost tangible. I can't control it. "Fight it," that voice whispers again. The voice becomes clearer, and some part of me recognizes it. I think I'd know that voice anywhere. My heart picks up speed and goose bumps tingle up and down my spine like a thorn being jabbed in my back repeatedly. Rose.
I swiftly turn around, searching for the voice, but somehow knowing that I wouldn't find it. This confirms my suspicions about me going insane. "Your not insane," Rose's voice murmurs, "But you will be if you don't stop. Stop the drinking, the smoking, the Spirit; All of it"
Hearing Rose's voice, sends an ache right through my heart, like a spear; or what's left of it, at least. I crave it so much. I want her so much. It's become a daily battle; loving her and loathing her. Today I love her…for now, I lover her. Sometimes, just to make all the pains of it go away, just to wash away all of reality, I drink; and now it's finally caught up with me. I don't mind. As long as Rose is here, somewhat, it doesn't matter.
Her voice, though; it's gone. I feel the emptiness in my head. I search frantically in my head for a way to bring her back but I don't know how. I begin to pace back and forth across the room as I think, and step on a large piece of glass left over from the tantrum not five minutes ago. It makes a deep gash on the side of my foot, but I could care less. Just then a light bulb goes off in my head.
I run over to the small cabinet under the sink and grab another bottle of Vodka. I have a stash in there. For emergency, you know. I dash back to the bedroom and climb up onto the cold silken bed. My foot is still bleeding and it left stains on the threadbare carpet. I lean back against the pillow and unscrew the lid to the bottle. My heart picks up in double time as I lift the drink to my lips and take a swig. Already I can feel my head pounding. I lean my head against the headboard and take another sip…waiting; Waiting for Rose to appear again, or for her to speak to me; who knows?
"Adrian…" Ah, there she is. Her tone is very disapproving. She doesn't like what I'm doing. At least she cares. And that's all that I ask for. Maybe I am going crazy; maybe I'll wake up one day and this will all have been a dream. Who cares? Not me. The world could be ending, an enormous pack of Strigoi could be attacking and I wouldn't be aware. I take another drink from the bottle and smash it against my mouth. "Stop!" she cries, and I sink in deeper under the cover. Maybe tomorrow I'll hate her. Maybe tomorrow I'll be too hung over to even remember her Rose Hathaway is, though I highly doubt it. But, like I said, today I love her; and as long as she's with me, in someway, Im alright.