Page 12 of Darkened Promises

Yeah, well, maybe we didn’t know her as well as we thought we did. I’m going out.

Noah

Maxi, come home, and we can think through other options to find her. I agree with Bry. It is unlike her to just leave.

I turn my phone off and throw it onto the passenger seat. The drive feels both too long and too short. My mind is a mess of thoughts that’s making it difficult to stay present.

It’s too early in the afternoon for a bar to be open, so as soon as I see a pub, I pull into the parking area, not even bothering to park in the bay correctly.

Leaving my phone on the seat, I slam the car door shut. I don’t want to be in touch with the outside world right now.

I drop onto a stool at the bar and wait to be noticed by the bartender.

“Double whiskey, straight.” My request comes out sharp. I know I’m being a demanding dick, but I don’t apologise. Maybe I can provoke someone enough to vent some of my twisted anger or find someone to fuck it out of me.

Fuck her out of my life.

That sounds like a better idea; erase her touch with someone else’s. I ignore the roiling disgust in my gut at the thought and focus on the betrayal and hurt.

The bartender places the glass in front of me, and it thuds on the surface none too gently. I bring it to my lips and swig it back, enjoying the burning warmth as it travels down my throat.

“Another, please.” Placing the empty glass down, I nudge it back towards him. “Better yet, keep filling it if you see it empty.”

“One of those days, is it?” he asks as he pours me another.

Grabbing it, I down it quickly, eager to get rid of this bullshit soberness.

“Yup, sure is,” I say softer this time, almost a sigh wrapped in sadness.

He nods and fills my glass again, not bothering to continue engaging me in conversation. That’s fine. I’d rather sit in my misery alone.

I stare down at the amber liquid and catch my sorry excuse of a self in the reflection. Scowling, I bring the glass to my lips and tip it back, relishing the soft glide as it travels down to my gut. No one will agree drinking hard liquor on an empty stomach is ideal, and I’ll most likely regret my choices in the morning, but for now, I’m grateful for the foggy effects of the alcohol slowly taking hold.

Now this, this feeling is much better compared to the pain she’s left me in.

“Yup. She j-just ripped it right outta me.” I take another swig of my drink. Except the table moves when I go to place it back down. Funny little table, trying to walk away.

Everything walks away from me.

“Don’t you leave,” I slap it, and the sting in my palm feels all tickly.

“Wha? I’m not going,” my new friend Damy…Danny…Donny answers.

Giggling, I pat him playfully on the shoulder. “Nooo, silly. The table. He was tryna walk away. What was I saying ‘fore that?”

“Umm, someone r-ripped you?”

“She did. I’m heartfess now. Nooo, wait. Heartless. Another drink. I need ‘nother one,” I call, waving my hand to the bartender. He likes me better now. I can tell. Everyone likes chatty people, and I’m a chatty Katy. That’s wrong. Kathy. Kathys chat and Katys…what does a Katy do?

“Nope, you’re cut off. Water for you now, mate.”

“But I need it. It keeps everythin’ fuzzy and warm, like a bear. Nate’s a bear, not a fuzzy one. Rosy thinks he’s fuzzy. She likes his hugs. No!” I shout, pointing a finger at the bartender. He raises his arms up defensively. “You’re not allowed to talk ‘bout her. She’s forbidden.”

“I didn’t. You brought her up,” he mutters, removing my glass.

I grab it, but the sneaky bastard is blurry fast, and my hand slaps against the table.

It tickles.