These feelings

These feelings
Rex

The whiskey burned like fire as it slid down my throat. But I kept pouring it anyway. One glass after another. I wanted to drink this reality away. I wanted to be submerged in the intoxicating pleasure of having no clue what the time said or what life was about.

Life was fucked anyway. 

The bartender had his eyes on me, taking note of just how much I was drinking. It was a fair thing to do but the last thing I wanted from him was to ruin my night.

My world had already gone up in flames today. What was one more fire?

I was staring at the bottom of my glass when I heard it. A voice cutting through haze of absolute drunkenness.

“Rex?”

I blinked hard. Tried to focus my eyes. Turned my head slowly but for some reason, it weighed a hundred pounds. It weighed too much for me to carry.

Cara stood there next to my barstool. Her arms were crossed. Her face was scrunched up in worry and frustration. She was staring at me like a mother about to scold her child. I didn't want this. I didn’t want anyone to babysit me tonight.

Especially Cara.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice sounded angry but I heard the concern underneath.

How could she still be holding space for me?

“Drinking yourself stupid in some dive bar?”

I groaned and looked away. Back to my empty glass. “Go home.”

“No.” She slid onto the stool beside me without being invited then she for my hand to perhaps show her concern and care for me. 

I pulled it away before she could touch me. Her skin felt wrong now. Everything about her felt wrong. She did bot have the affection I so desperately wanted. 

Her eyebrows came together in that worried way. “You’ve been ignoring my calls. My texts. Everything. What’s going on with you? You’ve been different for weeks.”

I snorted and lifted my glass to signal the bartender for another. “Nothing’s going on.”

The word came out thick and slurred. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth, honestly, everything felt so fucking heavy.

“Just drinking,” I added.

She tried again. This time she touched my arm gentle. As if to reassure me that it was normal to feel this way. That it was totally okay for me to drown in alcohol. 

“Rex, please. Talk to me. Whatever’s wrong, we can figure it out together.”

I yanked my arm away harder this time. “Don’t.”

She froze. Hurt flickered across her face. But I couldn’t stop. No matter the face of pity she had on, I could not even have it right now. The only thing I thought was I didn’t want her here. 

I suddenly couldn’t hold it back anymore. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and instead of sounding like a normal person, I began spewing out rubbish, with nothing control.

“You want to know the truth?” I muttered. “You really want to know what goes on inside my head?”

Her voice got softer. “Yes. Please. I want to understand.”

I leaned closer to her. Close enough that she could smell the whiskey on my breath. Close enough that she could see how broken I really was.

“I think about my parents’ murderer,” I said. The words came out slowly, might have been the effects of the alcohol. “Eveything about him is attractive. The way he walks into the room, the way he furrows his eyebrows slightly when he finds something he didn’t like.”

I suddenly chuckled. “I also have some pictures of him on my phone. I catch myself staring at them sometimes. Stopping myself to masturbate to him.

Her eyes started to widen but I kept going.

“He’s so fucking attractive, Cara. I just love it when he kisses me.”

“Rex, stop—”

“And you?” I laughed but there was no humor in it. Just bitterness and self-hatred. “I don’t feel anything for you. I don’t want to keep stringing you along, Cara. I’m done.”

She was staring at me with her eyes wide and tears threatening to spill. She doesn’t deserve this. She was an angel, a good person. 

“I’m into guys,” I continued. I never thought I would be able to say these words. But the alcohol made it so easy. “I really like the man who killed my parents.”

The silence that followed was the loudest thing I’d ever heard. Even the music seemed to stop. Even the other conversations in the bar seemed to fade away.

Then, without any warning, her palm ran across my cheek. The sound echoed through the bar. The sting snapped my head to the side and made my eyes water.

“You disgust me,” she said. Her voice was shaking with rage and betrayal and something that looked a lot like heartbreak. “You’re sick. You’re twisted. You’re everything I thought you weren’t.”

She grabbed her purse from the bar. Her glare fixed on her face.

“Don’t ever call me again,” she said. “Don’t ever come near me again. If I see you on the street I’ll cross to the other side.”

She dashed out of the bar, heartbroken, wretched and totally wrecked.

I sat there for a long moment. My cheek was burning where she’d hit me. Then I finished what was left in my glass. 

Rising to my feet, I could already tell that the last place I wanted to be was home. I didn’t want empty walls staring back at me. 

My legs carried me somewhere else. To the one person who was at the root of all this mess. To him.

By the time I reached Dante’s hotel, my head was spinning and my body felt unsteady. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t walk straight. 

I banged on his door with both fists repeatedly. Over and over again and it would suck if he wasn’t inside. I wanted to see him. I wanted him to see just how miserable I was. 

The door swung open after a few seconds. There he was. His hair fell over his face unlike how he usually had it gelled back. And gosh, he looked so fucking handsome. He was such a beautiful man.

His eyes flashed with shock but then was immediately replaced by worry, he opened widely to allow me entrance but I still shoved past him.

“You,” I said. My voice was thick with alcohol and anger. I pointed a shaky finger at his chest. “This is all your fault.”

Dante closed the door quiet. Leaned against it while I started to fall apart in front of him.

“My job?” I said. The words came out harsh and broken. “Gone. He acted like such a fucking saint when I knew he was the one behind most of the crimes.”

I felt my heart drop. “Why did you tell me?” My voice suddenly gree softer. “I was better not knowing. Do you know how much it hurts?”

I staggered toward the center of the room. Grabbed the back of a chair to keep myself upright.

“My girlfriend? Gone. Because I finally told her the truth about what kind of person I really am.”

My throat was starting to hurt from shouting. My voice was cracking under the weight of everything I was carrying.

“My parents? Dead. Because of the world you created. You killed them!”

I turned to face him. He was just standing there watching me. Not saying anything. Not trying to defend himself. Just listening to me.

“My whole life,” I continued. “Everything I built. Everything I believed in. Everything I thought I was. Ruined. All because of you.”

The words were pouring out of me now like blood from a wound.

“Do you get it?” I asked. “Do you understand what you’ve done to me? You made me lose everything. My job. My relationships. My sense of right and wrong. Even my mind.”

Dante walked over to his couch and sat down. Folded his arms across his chest. His eyes never left my face.

The alcohol was making everything feel raw and exposed. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and blurted out those things. I wanted to say more, but I couldn’t.

Finally, my body couldn’t take it anymore. The whiskey and the emotion and the exhaustion all crashed into me at once like midnight waves.

I collapsed into the nearest chair. My limbs felt too heavy for me to carry. My eyelids were getting harder and harder to keep open.

“I hate you,” I mumbled. The words came out softly, but slurred. “I hate you for making me feel like this. For making me want things I shouldn’t want. For making me into someone I don’t recognize.”

“For giving me these feelings.”