TESTING ALCOHOL

"Try that if you want to end up with a missing lip and crashed balls," I state, devilishly staring at his eyes, challenging him, and cutting his tour short. He jerks back, a smirk on his lips.


He is not angered by what I said. He actually seems strangely thrilled, and I don't know how to react to that. I don't also know whether I am safe after what I just said.

"Going naughty on me again, huh?" He smirks broadly, his eyes sparkling with a look that I can not quite decipher.

"Call it whatever you want, but I mean every damn word."


He backs off completely, and I pull my back from the wall. Hu! That was so close. "There are better ways to handle problems, and drinking yourself to death is definitely not a remedy or a solution," I continue in the hopes that he will pay attention and stop staring at me like I'm the most annoying thing he has ever encountered.

If that is so, then that would make the two of us, because I don't remember meeting such a jerk like him in my whole life. We are good to tangle. Perfect matches.


"Why don't we help one another?" His hands are shoved inside his khaki shorts as he begins, standing erect, while I freeze in confusion at his words. "For as long as you are here, you mind your business, and I mind mine. Is that clear?"

He reaches for the glass once more, but I swat his hand just as it approaches his mouth. He drops the glass, and I find myself in his arms as we both leap to avoid any alcohol splashing on us as the glass scatters the floor, splashing its contents all over the floor.

He does not even stare at the glass, but rather, at me. And if looks could kill, I would be six feet under right now.

"Clean up this mess, then take your annoying ass to your room and think of how we are going to stay in this house because certainly, not this way," he fires, emphasizing the last part.

He releases his hold on me at that point and moves to grab a full bottle of John Walker, but I stop him at the door of this bar.

"Please, Damian, come on! You certainly do not need this to get over some shit." I meant to yell, but I don't know where exactly in my throat my yells changed into a plea. Or perhaps I understood that screaming wouldn't do any good. I have been squealing at him, being all bullheaded, and speaking dirty to him, but none of that has helped. So maybe this different approach will do?

He turns. "Ellie, please, I need this. Unless you want to be the replacement, my room is just across from yours, by the way. Alcohol or you," He winks like the conceited jerk that he is, and when I don't respond to his garbage of words, he gently shoves me aside and storms out.

I turn to escort his figure as it gracefully ascends the long stairwell. Alcohol or me? How dare he put me on the same level with mere alcohol? He can go fuck himself!

My eyes plunge to the glass fragments settling in the spilled alcohol. My efforts were worthless, I guess. It would have even been better if I had just minded my business and let him consume this shit. He maybe might have been content with just a glass. Now he is gulping down a full bottle. Then again, what do I care, anyway? Let him drink ten bottles if he wants. Oh, I also badly want to forget some shit too.

He claimed that this crap aids in forgetting. I also have sorrows that are deeper than his, burdens that I would do anything to be free of and a whole lot of freaking things that I need to get off my chest.

I pull out a stool and park my ass comfortably on it before grabbing a bottle without caring to look at the label. The brand itself is irrelevant. I might as well relish a few hours of absolute tranquility in the glee of being high.

I pour the shit into the glass and toss the bottle aside. As I raise the glass to my mouth, I detest the smell but choose to ignore it. While the smell will only linger for a short while, my nightmares will be long forgotten. It is worth the while, as far as his theory works.

I was going to gulp down the entire glass in one go like I have seen him do, but I forgot he is used to it, and I am a newbie to this gull-irritating shit - a terrible amateur who doesn't like any bit of this shit. I almost puke my lungs out halfway through the glass due to the terrible flavor and the stench, so I quit forcing the remnants into my system. As it settles in, an internal crisis erupts. My intestines start throwing tantrums, rebelling against the shit. As I set the remaining alcohol aside and lay my head on the table, I puff out an unpleasant quantity of air. I feel awful! Worse than I would have imagined. I feel like the liquid is making its way up my throat due to the resistance it has received from my insides. Damn it!

I curse the moment I thought of this idea. I curse him for lying to me. For making me think that I can bear this thing. It's nauseous!

I don't know how long I lay here listening to the horrible consequences of this bitter crap, but I feel like I need to lie down on the bed as soon as possible. My internal organs are burning horribly. I feel terribly awful! I feel like I want to puke really bad!

Shit!

I raise myself and begin to stumble outside. The worst part of my nausea is that I feel like my head is beginning to spin. I have to leave this place right away. The urge to throw up is becoming so intense. I need to get to the restroom real quick because... because... well...

Pthoooo!!!

I balance myself on the table and let out all the shit from my gut. Goodness! What a mess!

"SHIIEET! ELLIE!"

Ellie!

That damn voice?

For heaven's sake, let it be that I am wishing he was here to witness just how disgusting this shit he worships is. Let it be that I am hallucinating. He ought to be relaxing in his room, downing his own bottle, while I deal with this mess. He should not see this mess, for fucks sake!

I let out my final spit before closing my eyes in humiliation as tears flowed freely. My weakness and lightheadedness are unbearable. My mind is completely whirling.

"What the fuck did you do?"

He curses behind me, and I'm not sure how he got there. I just right now felt his arms encircling my shoulders, supporting my weak being. I turn to smirk at him and shoo him away, but I can hardly move my hands. My legs are way too weak too, and my vision is obscured by the darkness. Even my brain is unable to explain what is actually happening - it's blank. I have no strength in me. I don't feel or see anything. I can't hear a thing. Maybe this is my way to forgetting??