Sober Thoughts

May 11, 2017
By DianaDee BRONZE, Montgomery, Illinois
DianaDee BRONZE, Montgomery, Illinois
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

 One sip.

She tried to tune out his melodic voice that echoed through her mind. His raspy tone played like a broken record, deafening her thoughts. The beautiful lies, the broken promises, and the three overused words that sounded like a choir of angels haunted her mind. His soft laughter clouded her judgement and cursed her dreams, turning them into unforgettable nightmares. The voice that once kept her so tranquil was now the very thing that kept, repeatedly, destroying her.
Two sips.
Every time she closed her forest green eyes she saw his golden brown ones staring, lovingly, back at her. His smile, the one that gave her a sense of security, was photographed into her memory and couldn't be deleted. His perfectly tan complexion that complimented her pale skin, and his soft black hair tortured her. She could still feel the soft locks between her fingertips and remembered the way he hated when she tried to flatten his hair.
Three sips.
His touch imprinted itself and burned into her skin. She could still feel the warmth of his comforting arms as he held her as close as possible. Her hands felt cold without his warm fingers seaming through the empty gaps. She missed the way their fingers would dance together when he gently played with hers. She could still feel the fingertips across her skin tracing shapes and patterns, like a paintbrush to a canvas. His touch was tattooed onto her and the broken teen scratched at her body as she tried to scrub away any trace of him, but he wouldn't leave.
Four sips.
Sobs of drunken memories filled the tiny room she hid away in.
“Why did you leave?” Her voice cracked. “I miss you, I love you, and I need you.” Hiccups escaped her chapped lips after each cry.
The bottle laid gently in her hand as she swirled it around staring aimlessly at the, almost, emptiness.
“You lied to me. You said you would never think to leave me and claimed that there's no other girl like me. But you used me.”
Five sips.
Letting out a small, emotionless, dry laugh she brought the bottle closer. The liquid burned as it went down her throat, burning away the taste of him. With every sip she drowned a little part of him out of her memory. She was numb to his touch, deaf to his voice, and warmed by the bottle.

Six sips.
Seven sips.
Eight sips.

The bottle rolled across the cold tile. Drunk, with tear- stained cheeks, she laughed and wept into nothingness. She was now as empty as the bottle across from her.

The author's comments:

My first heartbreak inspired me to write this piece. After my ex ended things I found comfort in alcohol and crying on the bathroom floor. The more I got drunk, the more I forgot about him. It took months to not cry over him, I had finally moved on. Everyone goes through a bad heartbreak during their lifetime and everyone copes with it differently. 

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