Chapter 16: Down it with alcohol

Author's note!

I just read my previous chapter! My apologies for the odd sentence structure. I've recently begun to read Mansfield Park by Jane Austen for school, so her sentence structure has influenced mine.

Alright, I do admit I was feeling pretty down the past chapter. Which ultimately led to the angst in this chapter. However, I did read your reviews this morning and feel much better Thank you. Please remember to leave one after this!

I lay in my bed awake into an ungodly hour. I could not keep my mind from examining, re-examining, re-re-examining my life. I had gone from Rose with her hands spread out at the front of the Titanic with Jack's steady hands upon her to Smeagol when he had lost the ring. He had lost his precious. My hand sprawled out to the empty half of the bed beside me.

That side was cold, un-crumpled and very still. But it was the brittle chill that gnawed at my insides. I had had someone to sleep beside, to wake up beside to so recently. But it was not just the feeling that mattered, the spotlight was on the person sharing my bed itself.

I knew this from experience. Even with so sweet a character as Ethan, he failed to do what another could do. Of course, I still fell into a good slumber by Ethan and often forgot my loss. But the very feeling of opening my eyes to an ocean of sparkling, bright, grey, was very different from the warmth I sought in the blue.

Had it been my fault? Was I to blame for the lost of such a treasured one? My precious?

The scene of Christian flashed back into my head and I recoiled from the memory, jerking up right in my bed. I felt very alone. I drew my legs up to my chest and supported my head with my knees.

Christian had done all he could. He had apologized, he had pleaded, he had reasoned, he had explained, he had done everything in his power. I knew he did, but I wanted more. I wanted to know where I had went wrong. Surely, it had taken two hands to clap.

Even though he constantly reassured me that it was solely his fault, that he had slipped and allowed the darkness to overwhelm him momentarily, I just knew it had something to do with me. Christian would never have had such a thought cross his mind if I would have been more suited for him.

He would have never decided to return to his ex-lover if I was perfect for him. But did he really? Had he really returned to his ex-lover? Was she even his ex-lover? She had always only been his past time, someone he had used to vent all his inner darkness upon. I felt sorry for Leila, but not sorry enough to hate her with all my guts.

I was not Christian's past time. I was not. He invested time and heart into me, I was the only woman ever to share a bed with him. I knew that that was a place in his heart that belonged to me. Solely to me. I was the only woman to ever share his bed, to share his demons, to be there to make it all better. That was our special.

Deep down, I wanted him angry at me. I wanted him to point a finger at me and list out everything that had drove him to her. I desired to hear him tell me where I was not good enough for him, where I had not been able to fit the bill. Only then, would I have a peace of mind. Because I would be able to work on myself, to alter myself, to change myself and become someone that could meet his standards. The idea of this all being his fault haunted me.

How then would I be able to fix something that was wrong with him?

Had I been too frustratingly innocent? My inability to woman up to face him in the red room of pain? What was it? What was it? I hugged myself tighter as the air-con blew another gust of skin-biting wind that only served as an unfriendly reminder of my isolation.

Fending it off, I forced myself to recall the happiness we once shared. The last time we were happy. The feel of his lips against mine, his hand in mine, the comfort and reassurance I drew from just being in his presence. His grey eyes fixated on me, saturated with love as I pleased him.

My Christian. He had been mine.

Leila had ruined it all, she had caused this. She had caused this by stepping back into his life. If only she had stayed away after her contract was done and over with. Christian and I would be untroubled now, only disturbed by small trifles that we could easily overcome.

But it had been his fault too. He had taken part in her evil ways. He had fallen prey to her, he had allowed his guilt to ride him into her. Yet, I held on tightly to the fact that he had thought of me and the light had returned into him and taught him right from wrong.

I was also glad that he had not lied through his teeth about it. Now, that was unforgivable. Christian had been able to brave up and confess to the wrong he had committed. Did that not show his remorse and in a twisted way, his faithfulness to me?

My inner goddess remained silent as I sorted these facts and emotions out.

I had returned to this apartment knowing full well that Christian was going to persuade me to be his again, that I was to forgive him. I was a willing victim to his consistent pleading for forgiveness. How many times was he to apologize before I genuinely accepted it?

How long more until this torture was to end?

Without another thought, I rose to my feet and was led out of this room. It was not my room, it was not now. I found myself lingering at the entrance of Christian's bedroom. Our bedroom, I corrected. I breathed in his familiar scent and found that my body was soothed by it.

This was the effect he had on me. That no matter what, my body and mind would respond to him as if he had tranquilized me. With him, I had been certain of my safety and my worth. This was how he made me feel, this was how he still made me feel. I felt this even through the events that had wrecked us apart.

I was not sure I would be able to find this anywhere else. I could not be sure that somewhere out there, another Christian existed. But maybe he did, maybe one better. But would I even take the gamble?

Who was I without him?

There was a hankering within me to crawl into his bed and sleep in the aroma of him, to have him enter my dreams and help me to sleep. It was difficult to admit, but the very idea of him finding me in his bed tomorrow morning and sliding in beside me was irresistible. I desperately wanted everything back to normal, wanted him to be mine again.

But how?

This apartment was suddenly too blank for me. It lacked life, it lacked hope. I knew Sawyer was in this apartment somewhere, I believed him to be resting in his quarters as he had trusted me to have gone to bed much earlier in the day. After Christian had left, I had immediately washed up and put myself to bed.

Sawyer would have watched me lay on my bed for a few hours before letting himself retire for the night as well. I crossed my fingers that these cameras were being monitored by security men, men that would not have received any strict orders from Christian himself.

Giving no thought to what I was dressed in, just a mere camisole and ultra short and breezy pair of shorts, I let myself into the elevator and slipped very quietly out into the darkness outside.

A long walk later, I found myself in a bustling bar. Ignoring the judgmental looks many girls and some guys shot at me, I helped myself up onto the bar stool and put my head between my hands. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself.

"Hey miss, can I help you?" The kind voice of the bartender emerged.

I looked up to rest my eyes upon a man my age, his deep brown hair was tousled messily and he stared at me as he cleaned a shot glass with his cloth. "Anything you'd like to have?"

My eyes scanned the wall of alcohol that were displayed behind him. I knew nothing of alcohol of this sort, I would have had better luck with wine. "Give me your strongest drink, please."

"Alright!" He cheered, and whirled around to begin mixing whatever he was up to mixing.

I gave zero cents about the scenes happening around me. There were scantily dressed females littered all over the bar with men trying to hit on them from every angle. I strongly believed that nobody would hit on me now, given my dressing. I looked like a hobo that had decided to get a drink in the middle of the night.

The bartender was back with my drink, a funny looking mixture that was made even more queer in this lighting. I nodded at him and picked the glass up and tossed everything down my throat in one gulp.

Nothing.

"Hit me."

Another and still nothing.

"Hit me."

I was not even sure what I was expecting. Had I imagined a unicorn to fly down on a rainbow and grant me three wishes? Of which I would have made everything better between Christian and I.

"LAY THEM OUT!" I commanded the bartender, who seemed dubious.

He mixed five more glasses for me, of which I knocked back in a blink of an eye. The mixture did nothing to help. Nothing to stop the pain, to soothe my insecurities, to fix my problems or to fill the gaping hole that was within me.

I thought of Leila and knocked back one.

I thought of Christian and Leila and knocked back another.

I thought of how broken we were and knocked back another.

What seemed like mere seconds later, the bartender cleared his throat. "Miss, I need to see that you can pay for this."

Oh hell. I patted myself down and shook my head. "Oh hell."

"Miss?" His tone was irritated, as if wishing desperately that I had the means to pay.

"I swear I can pay for this, I just left my cash and cards back home."

"Miss…"

"I swear it. I'll call someone to get it for me!" Hell. "Hell, I left my phone too."

"I'm going to have to-"

"Put it on my tab." A gentleman helped himself to the stool beside me, waving the bartender off with a dismissive shrug.

"You didn't have to." I snapped at him. I could barely make his features out. The lighting in this bar sucked balls. He seemed to have two heads though, which I think would have been very attractive. "But thank you."

He made a look with his eyes that I could not understand. "You seemed to already be having a rough day, I don't see why I shouldn't try and sweeten it up a little."

"Sweeten?" I slurred. "Impossible."

"Ah, really?" He pushed me. "Impossible is nothing."

"What the hell are you?" I pushed a finger into his shoulder. "F***ing Nike?"

He laughed at my words. Dammit, what colour were his eyes? I could barely make him out as my eyes began to slant. There was a knocking on the back of my head, an irritating pounding that had begun.

"Adidas actually. But, try me." He provoked, the ass was amused at me? Or by me? Nothing made sense.

"Why would anyone cheat on me?" I sputtered at him, stroking my empty shot glass with my fingers.

Ha! He was at a lost of words. "I wouldn't know, why would they?"

"I'll tell you why!" I shouted, fighting the pain from spreading into the rest of my body. "I suck at sex. I don't know a clue about sex. What is sex? Nothing. Zit."

"Is that what the douche told you?"

"Noooooo." I closed my eyes. "I figured it out."

"Then what did he say?" The man placed a palm on the back of my back and was stroking me slowly. It was not Christian, but it was still remotely comforting.

"That when he thought of me, he lost his erection." I whimpered.

There was a silence as the man took it in. "And do you believe him?"

I nodded in response. "He's not one to lie about these sort of things."

"So what now? Will you be forgiving him?"

"I suppose so. There's no where else to go."

"You could leave him." My head snapped up and I glared at him, he raised his palms up in the air. "Just a thought."

"Only him. I could never have someone else." I grabbed the bartender as he passed me. "One bottle, yes, one bottle of Vodka." I caught the brief glance he threw to the man beside me, of which this man returned with an approving nod.

There was skepticism. "Have you even tried?"

"Diiiiiiid." I garbled, fending myself against the drowsiness that was taking over my system.

"So it's your fault that he cheated?"

"I'm not interesting." I took the bottle from the bartender and popped it open, beginning to sip on it. It tasted foul.

"Quite the contrary."

"You don't know me."

"I don't have to."

"You want in my pants too?'

He sniggered and I placed my head against the bar table. "Not like this."

"See?" I mewled. "Nobody wants my sex. I'm sellin' but they ain't buyin'."

He leaned in to me and I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, his lips brushed my ear. "I'll let you in on a secret. My buddies over there and I, personally, think you're gorgeous."

"And then we date and you cheat on me."

"Cheat? No, no."

"Yes, yes. All men are the same." I refused him, then propped myself upon the table. The room was spinning.

"So where's the jerk that cheated on you?"

"Newwwwwww" I dragged the word. "York."

"New York, huh?"

"That's what I said!" I told the man. "He's really famous and rich, filthy rich."

"I would believe so. It would take quite a catch to grab you."

I slugged the clear liquid back. "Not really. Where are your friends?"

The man jerked his thumb back at the table of men watching us from afar. It was all just a blur, something Vincent Van Gogh painted in his sleep I believe. Ugh. Great.

I wrapped my arms around the man and gave him a kiss on his lips. "Now," I leaped off my stool with my bottle in hand. "I will cheat on you."

"Cheat on me?" He mused.

"Uh-huh". I sauntered over to the specified table with slight aid from the man, who had guided me against my elbow. "Hello gentlemen!" I applauded upon reaching their table.

Swiftly, I bent down to kiss the first pair of lips. Then, I moved on to the next, and the next, and the next, and the next. Until I had run out of lips in my sudden shortsightedness and collapsed into the very first man that I had kissed tonight.

"HAHA!" I hurrahed. "I cheated on all of you." I tell them with a smirk.

Then, gravity caught right back up to me and through the cloudiness of my mind and the throbbing pain at the back of my head, I began to sob. There were a few gasps and then a round of pats on my back and head, stroking me from every angle to try and get my tears to halt.

"You've done womanhood some justice tonight, you're a heroine." One of them chanted, calming me down a little.

Those were the last words I heard as I jumped onto the boat that took me to Lalaland.

Sleeperstar; I was wrong

Kiss Me, Ed Sheeran

Where I stood, Missy Higgins