Cheap booze all tasted the same. Doesn't matter where you go and get it from, New Vegas or the smallest most dingy town in the west, it all tasted the same. Bitter, like sorrow, and strong like pain. It was meant to drown those feelings down, but it seemed to be made of the same kinda shit you were aiming to drown. Elias snarled and downed another shot of something that faintly tasted like whisky.
Girls giggled in the background, and the clanking of pool-balls from the pool table below him could be heard. People's conversations carried on and some of the drunker, friendlier patrons sang songs or along with the jukebox when they liked the song it played.
Samantha's whore-house was a busy place at a little around 10pm. Elias had been there for the better part of the day He'd claimed a corner booth upstairs and drew the curtains. Samantha put him in in the velvet-roped off "Reserved" section, and even put a private sign next to his booth so no patrons would bother him. It was quiet in his little corner, and he liked it.
He had a half drank bottle of whiskey on the table beside him, and his legs were kicked up on the red leather, square "U" shaped couch he was sitting on. His coat was laying beside him, his boots on the floor, and his hat upside down on the coat. Even his button up shirt was half way undone. Hair ruffled and eyes baggy and heavy. He downed another shot, and felt disgust in the drink and himself.
Alison had told the whole town what had transpired, trying to explain it all away. But to Elias it sounded more like an apology for him. He didn't know what the town thought of him now, probably afraid. Probably why no one had bothered him. But he didn't care. He never did care about them. Maybe it was a mistake staying here.
He threw back another shot and slammed the shot-glass on the table. The liquor swayed in the half empty bottle, and he settled more into the couch. It was comfortable up here, secluded in the dark. He liked it.
But just as the comfort set in, the curtain suddenly slid back, casting a faint light into the booth. Elias covered his eyes for a minuet then looked up, seeing a blonde woman with her hair pulled back into a loose pony tail, all but her bangs. Alison. "Close the damned curtain, you're blinding me." Elias murmured.
She stepped into the booth and slid the curtain close, letting Elias' eyes adjust to the dimness in which he had been basking in. He looked up at her, and her blue eyes pierced down into his, arms crossed over her chest. She looked angry. "Thought you didn't come to brothel's." She remarked, looking at his sorry state.
Elias looked away and hammered back another shot, then grabbed the bottle and poured him another. "Said I didn't come for the whore's." he replied, tipping the head of the bottle towards the bench-seat Alison was next to. She didn't sit at first, she just stared at him. He stood the bottle up on the table, then relaxed back into his former position. "There a reason you're here? Or are you just here to...give your...piece of mind." He slammed back his next shot, cringing at the burn but enjoying it.
He reached out to grab the head of the bottle and drag it towards him, but Alison's hand grabbed it firmly first. He looked up at her, and his eyes followed her as she took a seat, keeping her hand on the bottle. "How drunk are you?" her voice quivered out in rage.
He scoffed and grabbed the bottle, staring into her eyes. "Not nearly drunk enough for this shit."
He tried pulling it towards him, but her grip tightened. Enough to were you could hear her skin clenching around the glass. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Elias?"
His eyes dilated and head lowered slightly, an angered look sweeping across his face, nose gave a slight twitch before he reached up and scratched at it to try to make it stop. "What do you want with me? Is someone dying? Someone break something, or been murdered? Or you just lookin' for a soul to blame."
"Jesus Christ, Elias, what is wrong with you? You're out of your damned mind if you think I'm here to berate you." She growled, showing no real proof in her voice that she wasn't here to do just that. And rightfully, she didn't if she was either.
Elias suddenly yanked on the bottle with an immense force, ripping it from her hand and splashing some on the table. He looked down and poured himself a shot. "Oh, you tell me, mom." He mocked her, holding the bottle close and downing the shot before laying the glass on the table and keeping the bottle. "Tell me what's wrong with me."
She opened her mouth and inhaled, not sure what she was going to say but knowing it would only further escalate the building argument. But suddenly Elias cut her off. "I'm violent. I'm cold, and rude, and brash. I'm angry and bipolar. I'm a drunk. I'm a murderer. I'm a psychopath. I'm a mad-dog killer who will slaughter this entire town if they ever stand against me. I'm just a broken mess, who shoulda' kept walking. Who shoulda' died up there in those hills with those two morons."
She scoffed, shaking her head in disgust. "You beat a man damn near to death with your bare hands! Don't make this a 'woe is me' story!"
"My whole goddamned life is a tragedy." He said slamming his finger into his chest as he leaned forward and stared at her. He slammed back into his chair and took a large swig of the bottle, some the whiskey running down the corner of his mouth. He wiped it against his shoulder and looked towards the wall. "You're just choosing one demon out of hell."
"Is that why you're up here?" She snapped at him with more anger in her voice. "To drown your bullshit in cheap booze and forget what you've done!"
"I AM UP HERE BECAUSE I CAN'T FORGET WHAT I'VE DONE!" He screamed at her. You could suddenly hear the whole building go silent for a minuet, then continue along it's way, though in a quieter pace. Elias' breathing was heavy and his eyes pierced into her heart as sure as any blade would. "I nearly beat a man to death because he nearly beat a woman to the same state. If you want to judge me for that, fine! But don't you DARE preach to me about humanity or justice! That's your thing, that's your bullshit to swallow, not mine!"
She knew this kind of behavior, she'd seen it a few times before, even in Carter. Elias leaned back again and looked at the wall, his hands shaking. She knew exactly what to do. She slumped further in her seat and wiped her expression clean, crossing her arms and looking at him.
"I know, I've made mistakes! There's not a day that I don't think about the one's I've made. But I've always tried to do what I felt was right! Always! I never turned a blind eye, I never turned away from anyone, I always helped when I could. And all that's gotten me is exhausted and worn down."
"So sit up here in a bar and wish it all away!" She shouted back at him, drawing his ire. "Drink away your pain and your regret and wish to whatever-the-fuck you believe in that it hadn't happened the way it did! But let me tell you something, I've done exactly what you're doing right now. And it took me to a place a lot worst then regretting the hell you've created or lived through. You're gonna find nothing at the bottom of these bottles. Nothing but emptiness, loneliness, and misery."
"Then what am I supposed to do? Huh?" He asked, making it sound more condescending then he would have liked. "I'm a killer, Alison. A killer. There is no happiness in the life I lead, only more death and misery. If I don't find relief here, then where?"
She suddenly slid to the left, towards the edge of the booth, then took a stand. She stood sideways to him and looked at him over her shoulder as one hand gripped the curtain. "Somewhere inside that head you're clouding with booze. Somewhere in there, your answer is just waiting for you. You want my advice? Put down your bottle, put down your pain, and give those demons you wrestle with so often some hell. Find something, someone, somewhere that you can find peace in. Then when all is said and done, stop and take in the moment. This life that we lead is short and brutal. Live it. So when you die, at-least you'll die knowing you suffered the pain and made it through. Make yourself into something you were comfortable with. And learn to get over the past. As hard as it may be, it's easier then being a broken record."
She left the room after that. Left as soon as she had arrived, it seemed. But it was just as Elias predicted. He felt like she came to kick him while he was down. Worsen him while he doubted himself. He was tired of being kicked. Tired of being told to get over the past. She was right about one thing, what she had said a few days ago about not letting people in and being upset when they step on something they don't know. But the whole point of them not knowing was just that. He didn't want them to know.
His rage boiled inside of him, and his breathing quickened. Suddenly, he hit a tipping point. He grabbed the bottle off the table and threw it as hard as he could. It slammed into the wall next to the booth's entrance, shattering in a loud crash that once again silenced the building. Alison stopped walking when she heard it.
She knew she was going to turn around and see if he was okay. She knew that she was. But to her complete surprise, Elias passed by her in a rush. He was still putting his hat on as he quickly sprinted down the steps. Something was very wrong, she could feel it in the air as Elias passed by. She was about to call out for him when she heard the front door slam.
A thought crossed her mind, and it drove he into a panic. She quickly ran forward and down the stairs as she muttered "No, no, no, no, no, please god no." to herself in rapid succession. Sam was tending behind the bar, with a worried look on her face. Alison pointed upstairs and said to her "His stuff is upstairs, take care of it!"
"I will." Sam replied as Alison rushed outside of the door. She looked both ways, doing a quick spin when she left the brothel. There was no sign of him. He had just vanished into the night. A couple was walking by, holding hands and talking silently to each-other with smiles. "Hey," Alison said stopping them and getting their attention. "did you see the sheriff go by? A man in all black?"
"Yeah," the girl replied and pointed up the hill towards Alison's place. "we passed him. He was in a hurry that way."
Alison wasted no time taking off up the hill, the couple only looking behind them for a moment before continuing along with their peaceful night. But Alison's was anything but peaceful. Her heart was racing, and mind filled with a terror she'd long since forgotten.
"Please, please, please, please..." she muttered to herself more as she ran up the pathway leading to her pre-war home perched on-top of her hill. She pulled the screen door open and burst through the front door. She hadn't expected the sight she found.
Elias was breathing quickly and on his knees, head bowed and arm on the couch next to him. He looked like he was shaking. "Elias!?" Alison asked in a panic and rushed forward to his side. She slid on her knees next to him, grabbing his shoulder and tilting her head to see him. She was having a hard time seeing his face, so she took the liberty of grabbing his hat and pulling it off his head, tossing it across the room.
His cheeks and eyes were wet with tears. She could see just sheer panic and hopelessness written across his face. His breathing was a lot faster then it should be, and his eyes darted around the floor around him. What she was seeing, was terror. Panic. "Elias, what's wrong!?"
He looked up at her, unsure of what to say. He had never felt anything like this, not since...well, not for a very long time. He reached up and gripped her denim jacketed arm. "I...I...I-I-I..." he stammered, unable to get his words out.
The terror, the sheer panic. The look in his eyes. Alison knew what this was, for she was prone to them. A panic attack. She took a deep breath and pressed into Elias, wrapping both her arms around him and pulling him as tight as she could against her. She pushed his head against her chest, laying one hand on the side of his head and softly, slowly, brushing her fingers over his ear and through his hair. "Shhhh, shhhh, it's okay." She whispered as she held him tight.
His terrified eyes flicked around the room as they filled with tears. He instinctively reached up with his right hand and gripped her right arm. Then his left went up and gripped her other arm, pushing into her and shaking violently as he only managed a brief but terrified and dry sob out. "No, no, no." Alison whispered to him, stoking his hair and holding him tight. "Just take slow and deep breaths. It's okay, Elias. It's going to be okay, I've got you. I've got you...I'm not letting you go. I'm...I'm never letting you go. Just take slow, deep breaths. It's going to be okay."
That closing feeling in the back of his throat returned, causing him to choke out a sob again. His eyes streamed with tears, and he clung to her, leaning into her harder. He could no longer hold it back. The dam he had build to hold back the emotion, the pain, the heart-ache. It broke. And it all hit him at once. He let out a long winded and pained sob, closing his eyes tight and turning his face into her warm chest.
Her eyes teared up as well, as she could hear the pain radiate in each cry he let out. He gripped and clung to her tighter, and she felt the tears soaking her shirt. No matter how painful anything from his past was, he needed something familiar. Something to ground and calm him. She thought for a moment if this was a good idea, but then realized with his next sob of pain that she had no choice. She softened her voice and drew in a deep breath. "Will the circle...be unbroken...by and by...by and by."
Her voice, soft and delicate, caught the attention of Elias. Even through his crippling pain. He still sobbed heavily into her chest, but he listened to her voice now. Her words. And let them comfort him. "There's a better, home awaiting. In the sky, lord, in the sky...There are loved ones. In the glory. Who's dear forms, you often miss. When you close your earthly story, will you join them in their bliss?" She let her words sink in a little more, giving pause as she felt his body relax a little against hers.
"One by one, their seats were emptied. One by one, they went away. Now the circle, has been broken. Will it be, complete, one day." A warm tear rolled down her cheek as he gave softer sobs of pain. She just held him tighter, and made no attempt to hold down the emotion that flooded her.
In doing so, that emotion fueled her next words, making them more stronger and powerful. Like a cry for help, on Elias' part. "Will the circle...Be unbroke-n! By and by...oh by and by. There's a better...Home awai-ting! In the sky, Lord, In...the sky..." her final words were met with a shaky breath.
But for as much emotion as she let come through in her voice, Elias was quiet now. His breathing was calmer and he only shook in short bursts. His sobbing had long since stopped, and his eyes were closed. Head leaned into her chest.
They laid there, still as they could possibly be. In the dark and cool living room, with strands of silver moonlight shinning on them through the windows. She reached over to his face and gently wiped away the remnants of tears. She'd never seen such a strong man break down like this. But everybody breaks a little sometimes. Everybody.
We're only human. And by emotions standards, by life's cruel devices, that makes us porcelain dolls. Sitting on a shelf during an earthquake. It doesn't matter how long you hold on, it doesn't matter what you're made of. When your foundation shakes...when you fall...you will shatter when you hit the floor. Hit rock bottom.
It doesn't take a strong man to break. They're just the ones that hurt the most. That break the hardest. Snap the loudest. Rarely heard, but most often felt. Elias is just one of many men and women who have broken from the fall. From the descent that life throws us down.
What if she wasn't there, though? What if she hadn't came for him? He would have had that panic attack, on the floor, alone. He would have cried, and screamed as the pain of a lifetime snapped him in two. He would of had no one to cushion his blow, no soft whispers. No soft and warm chest to cry into.
She wanted to think no more of what would have happened without her. She only wished to see him comfortable. To see him recover and, maybe eventually, forgive the mistakes and heartache. But not tonight. Tonight, he needed sleep, and comfort.
She wouldn't turn him into his bed. No, not tonight. She put his arm around her shoulders and her other arm under his, and got to a squatting position on her feet, then stood. He was heavy, but knew what was happening and helped get on his feet. But he was weak. Ever so weak. She whispered sweet comforts to him as she carried him into her bedroom.
It smelled of a warm and sweet perfume. It felt warm upon entering it. She kicked closed the door behind her, and carried him to the left side of the bed. She never slept there, always preferred the right. He laid down, bouncing the bed and his head sinking into a pillow. She grabbed his boots and pulled them off of him then his socks and button up shirt. Grabbing his legs, she pulled them up onto the bed and watched him resting there.
His eyes were partially open, watery and hazy. They gently and slowly flicked around the room. She slid her hand down his leg as she walked away, to the other side of the bed. She stripped out of her jeans and denim coat and under-shirt. Putting on a much more comfortable pair of pajama's. Then slipped into bed next to him, pulling the covers over the both of them.
She laid on her back for a while, unable to do anything but pay attention to his presence next to her. His weighty, warm body. She'd forgotten what it was like to have another sleeping next to her. To feel another's presence. It was truly comforting, and she couldn't help but to turn over and move close to him.
Her body nuzzled up against his warm back, and her arm slid under his and around his body, her hand resting on his chest. She nuzzled her face into his his upper back, breathing him in and closing her eyes.
This is the price we pay, for the men we've become. For survival. We can only hold on, cling desperately to our foundation for so long. Before it crumbles, and we fall, and shatter. This is the price we pay for our survival.
Everybody breaks. Some just do so harder then others.