She sat on the living room rug, crying and drinking herself into a stupor. She wore Gideon's favorite button down, much too big for her small frame. Her big brown eyes are filled with sadness, an alcohol fog and promises unkept. Her mouth is pulled into a small frown, and she nursed the bottle of firewhiskey. Her hair was mussed; she hadn't bothered to brush it since the news. She has been in his flat since the news.
A hollow laugh echoes through the apartment when she finally pulls herself up. She stumbles blindly around, remembering a promise made in each room. The sound of her drunken hiccoughs drowned out the whispers of memories made in each room, and she sighs loudly. She needs to stop the silence. The only phrase she can think of escapes her mouth. "I don't want to die!"
Her sudden words cut through the stiff silence and she tripped forward, grabbing the only thing in vicinity. Her hold on the drapes was the only thing holding her up. She was limp like a puppet with none to pull the strings. Her sobs echoed through the empty flat, and she did the only thing she knew to rid herself of the pain. A few more sips and she'll welcome a sleepless night, never mind tomorrow's hangover.
After all, pain is good in small doses, she's always been told, keeps you alert. She rubbed her eyes and walked haltingly to the bedroom. She fell onto the bed haphazardly, and searched the bed side table, looking for a simple envelope marked with two words 'Darling Marlene'.
As her hands fold around it, her eyelids droop, and finally shut.
Tomorrow will bring another dose of pain.