Chapter Two : A Loner and His Rum
It was just another night for him. Bored. Alone. Working on his third bottle of alcohol. Tonight's booze of choice was black rum, not that he cared much. Varying little things like that was what kept him sane. He didn't do much of anything anymore. Years ago he was always busy; a job here, a job there, and he always had the company of his dearest friend to keep him busy, but not anymore. An occasional odd job or a game of poker gave him enough money to get by. He didn't need much. Food was never a problem and he had a permanent discount at the liquor store down the street, thanks to really quick hands and a stone face when playing poker. He rarely left his house, except to go to the local bar to pick up girls, and tonight was turning out to be a bit too lonely for his taste.
He finished off the rest of his bottle of rum and stood up. He set the empty bottle down on his cluttered kitchen counter and wiped his mouth with his sleeve as he staggered over to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and splashed a handful of icy water in his face, shocking himself half way out of his drunken stupor. He glanced at the mirror only to find it still broken.
He had broken all the mirrors in his house in a drunken rage a long while ago, all but one. He fished though his pockets for the key as he walked toward the room. It was the only door in his house that was kept locked. Visits to this room were rare and brief. He pulled the key from his pocket and fumbled with the lock, still feeling the effects of the rum. The lock clicked and he pushed the door open slowly. He opened it just enough for what little light he had on in the house to shine on a large, standing mirror in the back of the room. He was careful not to let light shine on anything else.
Upon approaching the mirror, he raked his fingers through his hair. It was always a mess so a quick finger combing was all it really needed. He straightened his suit and tie and tried to wipe the wrinkles out. Being nearly the only thing he ever wore, it was fairly clean and free of wear and tear. The only problem was it was a lot looser on him than it used to be, but that tends to happen when you live in a cloud of depression and booze. He stopped to take a good look at himself.
"Good enough," he said with a shrug. Suddenly, he was overcome with a feeling of shear loneliness. Depressing thoughts began to swirl in his head. If he hadn't been such a jerk he wouldn't be so alone. If only he had been nicer. He shouldn't have opened his big mouth. If only he walked away and instead of doing what he did. If only he wasn't who he was, then he wouldn't have to live in the bottom of a bottle. He gave a heavy sigh and slid his hand across the glass of the mirror. A sharp sound echoed through the house. His eyes widened with fear.
"No," he whispered. He knew exactly what he had just done. Another sound rang though the house. This time it sounded more like words, but unclear and distant. The shock of hearing something that could have been words knocked him to the ground.
"Fuck! No, no, no. You stupid bastard, how could you do that?" he whispered to himself as he slid towards the door. He quietly stood up and locked the door, making sure he made as little sound as possible doing so. Another voice-like sound echoed through the rest of the rooms. He leaned up against the wall next to the room and slid down to the floor. His eyes began to well up with the beginnings of tears.
"Please don't say it. Please don't say it." he whispered as a few tears fell to the floor, "You're better off, you said so. Please don't say it." The house fell silent once more. He sat still, fearing he might still hear the one word he never wanted to hear again. As soon as he was sure it was over, his sorrow turned to anger with himself for what he did.
"Damnit, you idiot. Stupid, stupid, uuuugggghhhh," he groaned as he punched his forehead a few times out of frustration.
"I need another drink," he mumbled while he shaking his head in disappointment. Giving a heavy sigh, he stood up and started towards the front door. The local bar was a few blocks away and after he was sure the door was locked, he started his long walk toward being just a little less lonely tonight.
*The first two chapters were a bit short, I know. Who were those chapters about anyways? (I'm sure you guys can guess) Why is she alone? Is it by choice? And the guy seemed to have a problem with mirrors, huh? Find out more in the next chapter. ^.^*