The idea for this came to me out of the blue. I just started writing and
this came out. I have some ideas for it, but suggestions and feedback are
welcome. Hope you enjoy. The rating is to be on the safe side. I don't own
the General Hospital characters, and I make no money.
There was nothing left to live for. He just didn't have anything anymore. It all started when his parents died. Sure it had been many years since that explosion, but it still haunted him. Their screams crept into his nightmares every so often, never allowing him to forget. Then his daughter. The child he loved more than he thought he could, died a few months after it's birth from unexplained causes. It hit him hard, and severed the last tie he had with the child's mother. He never loved her anyway. Now he was suffering the final loss. When he received word that his only brother had been killed in some small town chasing a woman who didn't love him, something in Lorenzo broke. His brother was all he had left. Sure Lorenzo still had money and status, territory and other things, but it didn't make up for it like he thought it would. When he was younger, he thought all of it would replace what he was missing in love and family, but it never had. At each loss he grew a little more bitter, a little more detached. But now he was sure it was over. He had no one left to care about or to care about him. For the first time he not only felt alone, but he was alone. If he wanted, there was no end to the number of beautiful women he could hire to keep him company as he wished, but inside he knew they could never give him what made him so empty. And he never was much for hollow, classless lust. Since Luis' death, he had been drowning each day in the strongest alcohol he could, locked up inside his tasteful mansion. Not even the possessions he spent years and millions acquiring were beautiful to him anymore. Once in a while he'd go out to a bar, usually ending up in some kind of trouble. The majority of his personal bodyguards were fired, and when he left the mansion, he'd always go alone. What did he have to fear anymore? Certainly not death. Suicide was below him, the cowards' way out. Though he felt he had nothing in his life, the only way out had to come on it's own accord, and Lorenzo was an impatient man. With his guards gone, he was sure any day would provide a knife in the back, or a bullet through the head. But nothing, not even an attempt. Where were his enemies now, he thought bitterly. His self-destructive attitude was what called him to bars nestled deep in the seedy parts of town. In the past, bar fights were too petty and trivial to concern him, but now they became almost a hobby. Usually he won, even drunk, but sometimes he liked to give in to the beating. It gave him a new pain to focus on for a change. After a fight, he'd go home and pass out on his huge bed. The size of it only exaggerated its emptiness. Just as his wounds would begin to heal, Lorenzo would feel the need to see his own blood again. On angry days, he would beat his opponent mercilessly, but on his self-pity days, the other guy would go home with a feeling of accomplishment. Neither ever got him anywhere, but he wasn't thinking, and that was the whole point.
There was nothing left to live for. He just didn't have anything anymore. It all started when his parents died. Sure it had been many years since that explosion, but it still haunted him. Their screams crept into his nightmares every so often, never allowing him to forget. Then his daughter. The child he loved more than he thought he could, died a few months after it's birth from unexplained causes. It hit him hard, and severed the last tie he had with the child's mother. He never loved her anyway. Now he was suffering the final loss. When he received word that his only brother had been killed in some small town chasing a woman who didn't love him, something in Lorenzo broke. His brother was all he had left. Sure Lorenzo still had money and status, territory and other things, but it didn't make up for it like he thought it would. When he was younger, he thought all of it would replace what he was missing in love and family, but it never had. At each loss he grew a little more bitter, a little more detached. But now he was sure it was over. He had no one left to care about or to care about him. For the first time he not only felt alone, but he was alone. If he wanted, there was no end to the number of beautiful women he could hire to keep him company as he wished, but inside he knew they could never give him what made him so empty. And he never was much for hollow, classless lust. Since Luis' death, he had been drowning each day in the strongest alcohol he could, locked up inside his tasteful mansion. Not even the possessions he spent years and millions acquiring were beautiful to him anymore. Once in a while he'd go out to a bar, usually ending up in some kind of trouble. The majority of his personal bodyguards were fired, and when he left the mansion, he'd always go alone. What did he have to fear anymore? Certainly not death. Suicide was below him, the cowards' way out. Though he felt he had nothing in his life, the only way out had to come on it's own accord, and Lorenzo was an impatient man. With his guards gone, he was sure any day would provide a knife in the back, or a bullet through the head. But nothing, not even an attempt. Where were his enemies now, he thought bitterly. His self-destructive attitude was what called him to bars nestled deep in the seedy parts of town. In the past, bar fights were too petty and trivial to concern him, but now they became almost a hobby. Usually he won, even drunk, but sometimes he liked to give in to the beating. It gave him a new pain to focus on for a change. After a fight, he'd go home and pass out on his huge bed. The size of it only exaggerated its emptiness. Just as his wounds would begin to heal, Lorenzo would feel the need to see his own blood again. On angry days, he would beat his opponent mercilessly, but on his self-pity days, the other guy would go home with a feeling of accomplishment. Neither ever got him anywhere, but he wasn't thinking, and that was the whole point.