Love Punched | COMPLETED

38. What Happened?

(Derek's P.O.V)

I'd kept this a secret for so long and now it was out there. Desi had definitely heard the argument.

"Is what Derek said true, Mom?"

A tremor in my sister's voice was detectable and my fists clenched so tight I was sure my knuckles had turned white.

A sob escaped my Mother and Desiree's mouth opened but no words came out.

I breathed out heavily and kept staring at my sister who refused to meet my eyes.

But it had to have been a shock.

I was feeling like an addict, wanting to smoke and forget all my worries. I wanted to fiddle with the lighter that Kitkat had in her possession now and breathe in death.

"Did you cheat on Dad? How long?"

Her eyes were burning up and her brown locks looked untamable.

Unable to hear more, I stormed away and banged the door on my way out.  I wanted to punch someone, something. Maybe going to Blue would be good.

Turning the ignition on my bike and putting on the helmet quickly, I breathed in as the engine roared to life and the evening sky greeted me. My chest felt like a boulder had crushed it and a sinking feeling became the perpetual state. 

Feeling like a stranger in my own skin, I savored the roar of the engine before speeding away to Blue, the promise of violence so strong that I could almost taste it even though I doubted I could let off steam that way today.

•♤•

Two hours later, I was drunk on one bottle of whiskey, one bottle of beer and three tequila shots.

My stomach churned but I ignored it as my head swam. I was probably well on my way to throw up but I'd rather not.

It wasn't hard to convince the bartender to give me drinks since my fake ID was foolproof. It was a plus that Diego wasn't here and I just told him to put everything on Diego's tab which actually worked because I'd been apparently spotted with Diego by him. He decided to have some mercy on me.

Yeah, no that last part was all me.

I wanted to smoke but that habit was being curbed. Like an addict, I craved it whenever I had problems big enough to warrant a smoke but Kitkat always popped into my head and I didn't have the lighter either.

Another reminder of my colossal fuck-ups.

I downed another mouthful of the burning liquid and banged my head on the counter.

The bartender gave me the stink eye. "Alright, I think that's enough alcohol for you."

He came to snatch the bottle of beer in my hand but I got it out of his reach and slid off the barstool. Grinning, I winked, "Sorry. I'll leave."

I ignored his shouts of protests and made it out of Blue on wobbly feet. The ground tilted beneath my feet but I managed to right myself.

Did this help in drowning out my problems? No.

Did I get utterly wasted? Yes.

Was drinking and smoking a solution to any of the world's problems? No.

People just glorified it.