You try and scream. It wells in your stomach, hitches in your throat, and dies on your lips instead. So you mechanically push your lips apart with your tongue and insert the bottle of vodka into your mouth, the last few drops hitting your throat like tiny comets. Like liquid fire. Like relief.
"You're drunk Katie." Bianca DeSousa observes, perched on your tiled counter top.
"What's the alternative?" You ask darkly.
"Uh, try not draining the whole bottle next time." Bianca offers sharply. You clutch onto the cool glass with both hands, an act of defiance and submission all at once.
"How can you tell I'm drunk?" You say evenly, measuring your words.
"You're slurring." She intones, batting her dark lashes. A warmth rises to your cheeks and you want to laugh, but then a realization hits you square in the chest, sucking the heat from the room.
"Also I'm hallucinating." You admit. You giggle a bit to lessen the impact. It doesn't work and her eyes widen in a sadistic mix of shock and pity. Pity for you. It gives you strength to continue.
"You died." You remind her thickly, your voice cracking in so many places that the statement is shattered and fragmented. "This morning. Car crash. Your-your brain was splattered all over your dash board." When you're finished, you smile sickly and proudly. You remembered.
"And this upsets you?" She asks innocently, folding into herself on the counter.
"Of course!" You shout before snapping your lips together. "Yes it upsets me." You whisper harshly. "How could it not?"
Bianca smirks to let you know that she just finished manipulating you.
You roll your eyes. "That I am not going to miss." You say coldly, wanting to look away but terrified that she'll be gone when you look back. She sticks out her tongue at you playfully. You sigh severely in response.
She scoffs, momentary softness vanished. "Drink yourself to death. See if I care." She warns with a flip of her hair.
"I should've hallucinated you without a mouth." You joke, annoyed. A shriek of laughter escapes her and you join in. When you're both done, you sigh heavily. You're both right where you should be.
"I love you." And you offer her this gently and carefully. It's a thought too big for you to carry on your own. Tears itch in your eyes when you realize you might have to from now on.
"Katie, don't." She tries to command, but it's a plea. A simple, perfect plea.
"I can't not Bianca." You remind her, voice thick.
"You can't love something that's dead." Bianca whispers, drawing her feet up to her knees and cupping herself.
"That's wrong." You inject.
"Please stop loving me." She cries, her tone matching yours. Finally.
"Why?" You feel angry. No, it's a disturbing hybrid of something like anger and something like love. But it's neither of those things either.
It's need.
"Because it's making you crazy. I'm not here, Katie." She states.
"It was crazy of me to love you when you were here, B." You remind her, wishing to make her stop fighting you on this.
"Stop it! I! Am! Gone! You'll wake up tomorrow and I''ll be gone then too. It will never stop. And neither can you. Never stop. Loving me has made you too strong." When she's finished, she breathes heavily for a second.
"The fuck did you have to die for?" You ask, not to her though. Not to anybody really.
"Were you even listening?" She giggles, leaning against the wall of your kitchen. It's surreal. It's not happening.
"Say you love me." You request. She laughs and sputters aimlessly for a bit. "It's the least you could do you stupid die-er."
"Fine." She shakes her head and holds up her hands in defeat.
"I love you Katie Matlin." Her mouth twitches upwards in the middle of the sentence. It's like the blade of a knife teased against your heart to you. She does a dorky little point. The blade cuts into you. It's painful enough for you to say what you need to.
"You have to leave."
She nods solemnly. "Close your eyes." She instructs. So you squeeze them so hard you can see light. You swear you could feel her warm hands on your neck and her skirt against your thighs and maybe even her lips pressed to yours. But when you open your eyes again you're dizzy and very very alone. The bottle you've been holding crashes to the ground and kick-starts something inside you. You scream. Loudly, clearly, perfectly. Fire still inside you.