Cash sent me home after we'd had one last conversation with his boss. Being the bait in this operation didn't bother me. I was ready to find her again. Seeing that horrid creature was the one thing I'd waited for the last decade. But the restrictions I was given was obvious that this was about more than finding her. She had something that they needed. Whether it was information or just something in particular.
I wanted to be the one to kill her. Even if they refused to allow me to, I'd find a way to do it quietly. She'd became the root of my anger for several years. The reason why I couldn't move on was because she was still here. And no one would let it go because of her ass. Grinding my teeth, I tried to forget about it. If she was going to show up, all I had to do was wait for her. Is that what you do in this situation?
Not so used to being the victim, huh?
Rolling my eyes, I leaned my head against the bottom of the desk. The minute I got back, I dug for that bottle of whiskey. Now, I was halfway through, and still couldn't get a single buzz. Just one night. Just one god damn night. Why is it so hard to get drunk now?
You're trying to get caught, but don't make it so damn easy!
I rolled my eyes, chugging down more of the alcohol. There were many nights before I was in this same position. Sitting on the floor, back against the desk, bottle in my hand. I knew this feeling all too well. All because of that damn creature. I refused to give them a name. Why give something a name when they just destroy things?
You have a name, don't you?
I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Why does it insist on making me feel worse about myself?" I mumbled to myself. Even though I was fueling it more, I had no choice but to speak to it. The only company I've ever been given these years was the voice. Even though it sounded like myself, it wasn't. It wasn't me, and I refused to think that it was.
I am you. I'm the you that has accepted his ways. All you have to do is do the same, and we'll all be happy again.
I laughed to myself, throwing back more whiskey. Happy. Do I even know how to be happy? I thought I did whenever I had her in my life, but now… Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. You're so pitiful. Those words hung in the air. Didn't I know that already? What does a damn voice that says it's myself have to say that I don't already know? Without it, I'd be willing to accept everything. With the voice in my head, it made it harder to accept shit.
Just drink your alcohol and be happy.
Again with that word. Happy? What the hell is that? Being happy is for people that don't understand reality. Look at you! You're being insightful! Rolling my eyes again, I mumbled short spurs of curse words. The louder its words got, the tougher it was to relax. Just one night. Can I have just one god damn night?
Throwing back the rest of the alcohol, I tossed the bottle across the room. No use for it anymore. Just like everything else. Looking around my compact office, I sighed to myself again. Why do I even have this dead-end job anyway? It isn't like it's going anywhere. I literally sit at a damn desk all day. Except for the occasional person that struts through the door.
Oh, don't down yourself now!
"Isn't that exactly what you fucking want?"
The laughter was not mine that came after that. Rolling my eyes, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes tight. Finally, I felt my body grow heavy and my muscles relax. Took me long enough. When did I become so tolerant to alcohol?
Maybe whenever you drank five times a day?
Shrugging my shoulders, I sighed deeply. Tonight was another night that I could remember anything. Another reason I wished I could turn off my brain forever. Every time I had a moment to myself I thought about her. The one thing I was afraid of most, and that was my own damn memory.
You're so depressed. I wonder why you don't just end it.
I laughed, shrugging my shoulders once again. It had crossed my mind many times. But if it were the best option, I would've done it years ago. Well, here I am again. Same position, same drink, same headache…. And the same nightmare. Being afraid of yourself and hating yourself are one in the same. Although, being stuck with both is a burden most people couldn't handle.
"Well, then why do I have to deal with it?"
Because you're not good enough to be happy.
Not good enough.
Whoever decides who's good enough to be happy and who's not should win an award. They seem to choose those who have it the worst. I couldn't see myself happy. Not after what happened then. You can at least try, huh? I shook my head. Trying would mean giving a damn… which I don't. I wouldn't care if I wasn't happy for the rest of my life. In the end, it isn't even worth it.
Wise words coming from you.
I've got a few pieces of advice up my sleeve. I seem to use them for others, but don't take my own advice. Again would mean that I gave a shit. I didn't give a damn about anything anymore. The only thing I cared about now was to get rid of this burden. Only way to do that… is to kill the one who started it.
It's always murder with you, Booker.
I smirked, resting my hands behind my head. My eyes were still shut tight, and I imagined myself with that monster. I'd kill her in any way possible. As long as she couldn't get to me anymore… I would be happy. Or I would be the closet to happy as I could ever get. The happiest I had been was a decade ago.
She was the only person who understood. She was the only person who didn't care about anything I had done or will do. Even though I wasn't the best man sometimes… she was always there. I couldn't remember a time when she was there. She was the only person I ever loved. Love. It's such a ridiculous feeling, but I really felt it with her.
Now, I didn't have the ability to get close to that anymore.
I didn't want to.
You're heart only saved for her? The voice teased me again and again. I never got a break with it. Why couldn't I shake it off? Even when I was trying to have a good memory, it was always there to ruin it. Maybe it will disappear once I do what I need to do. At least, that's what I had hoped for. That's all the hope I can salvage at this point.
Hope's also a funny word. What can a man my age hope for anyway? I'd already lost my hope. Now, I had to cover it up with something false. False hope. I'd say wanting to kill her would be real hope. Don't you? I shook my head, sighing again. Wanting to kill someone isn't hope. It's ridiculous to even think that. Everyone's hopes are different.
"Yeah, but I ain't different."
The voice in my head chuckled again. The chuckle was like a rumble within me that felt odd every time it happened. With the voice speaking so frequently, it was obvious that it was becoming a part of me now. Getting rid of it was going to be harder than I thought.
Just sit back and relax. I'm not goin' anywhere.
Sighing, I shrugged my shoulders. Well, if it wasn't going to be leaving any time soon, one day wouldn't hurt. Leaving my thoughts to myself, I sat back and sighed again. The voice didn't speak again that night. Thank god for that. But I was left to my own thoughts again.
Do I even have my own thoughts anymore? All they were… were jumbled words and memories. Any thought I had was the same thoughts over and over again. When they were different, they no longer made sense. Either it was the alcohol or old age. Accepting it would be easy, but I still had shit to get done. I couldn't be forgetting things simply on a whim.
Just shut up and let the booze take over. You're rambling like a crazy person.
Maybe I was a crazy person. Someone sane wouldn't have such messed up thoughts or a voice in their head. But my head started to pound from the alcohol, and I felt my body resisting all urge to move. My body felt as if it were melting into the floor. Now would be the best time as any to get some sleep. And just like all the nights before, I fell asleep like that.
On that same floor.
Against that damn desk.
And with a whole lot on my mind.