Whiskey Lullaby
Today marked ten years since she ripped out his heart. She ripped it into so many pieces, that no matter how hard he tried, it just wouldn't go back together. So how did he celebrate? By doing the one thing he could bring himself to do since she ended it - drink.
The pain was too unbearable for him to live with day to day, so he found comfort in the only thing that seemed to numb his pain - Whiskey. It worked for the other 364 days of the year. Some days required more alcohol than others, but it would always silence the pain. It was just this day, this cursed, God-forsaken day that had him plagued with her image playing on repeat in his mind and the same feelings he tried so desperately to forget consuming his broken heart. Which is why, on this day, he would do the same thing he did after that terrible night.
More whiskey bottles than one could count were scattered across the small, one bedroom house. He would start in the kitchen, than move to the living room, and by late evening he would be laying passed out in his bed. Only this time was different. This time, he wasn't passed out. He was drunk, he always was, but he was beyond the point of return. He sat in his bed, a note in one hand and a hand gun in the other. Even in his drunken state, he was still able to say a quick prayer.
"Father, forgive me. Forgive her."
As quickly as he said the words, he lifted up the gun and pulled the trigger.
"He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her till I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby"
"La, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la."
"La, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la."
The news of his death spread like wildfire. The small town that they had lived in made that quite easy. She had moved from that town since their break up. She had hoped it would be enough for her to forget about what she was leaving behind, but it never did work. When she heard the news, she immediately packed some essentials and flew on the first plane back home… back to him.
She saw him one last time, lying peacefully in his casket. Someone had cleaned him up nicely, making him look the same way he did last time she had seen him. Before she had hurt them both. Every day she lived in regret. For that day, for what she did, for what she said.
"I...I can't." She stuttered.
"What?" He whined back, looking utterly deflated.
"You heard me, Gar! I...I just can't!" She yelled back, turning away from him.
"But I thought you loved me? I thought you would want to spend the rest of your life with me? Isn't that what you wanted? What we wanted?" He cried out, desperate to get her to change her mind.
"Well...you were wrong." She stated stubbornly.
"But...I...I love you Raven."
Those were his last words, before she took off and ran. She ran away from him, from their future, and for what? To take this big offer at some high end, fashion company in New York? She had said no, just because her friend that offered her job said she should be completely focused on her career instead of a family. She did love her job, but never has much as she had loved Garfield. His final words constantly playing in her head. She knew she should have given him at least an explanation. A reason why she had ended the best relationship either of them had ever had, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. So instead of telling him the truth, she simply tried to forget. Unfortunately, alcohol could only do so much.
She kept it all a secret. No one ever knew that she always kept a tin of Whiskey in her purse, or that she had a special closet in her apartment dedicated to her addiction. No one knew that is, until the night after his funeral. When she was drunker than ever. When she broke into his house, went into his room, and grabbed his gun. She pulled out of her purse, the picture of him she held onto each and every day. She looked at him one last time, before she pointed the gun at her head and pulled the trigger.
"She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby"
"La, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la."
"La, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la."
"La, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la."