[COMPLETED]
Twenty-five-year old Gunner Shaw is a drug addict, and his girlfriend is hopelessly drowning in the sorrow of raising their daughter without his support. From one high to the next, and from one job to the next, it can only be so long unt...
WARNING–TRIGGERING CONTENT; DEPICTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT
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"And find a place where every single thing you see tells you to stay." S E E K E R . . January 23rd 2:21 PM New York - - - - - - - - - -
"I think you've had enough."
Gunner's shaking hand reached for the almost-empty bottle of whiskey on the bedside table, gulping its final contents before whipping it at the nearest wall. It shattered on impact, the same way he did, and was reduced to shards.
"I-I haven't had e-enough," he slurred, the smell of alcohol on his breath and bedsheets churning his stomach. "I j-just wanna t-talk to her, y-y'know. Say...s-say sorry, b-baby."
Ace leaned into the doorframe and crossed his arms over his broad chest, critical of Gunner, but offered no remark.
"S-She won't l-listen to...me, man," Gunner hiccupped and his bloodshot eyes drifted all through the scattered bedroom. "She never listens to me!"
She doesn't understand what it feels like to keep falling.
The closet was open, the clothes she didn't bother packing hanging inside as a taunting reminder of the shadow Audrey quickly became. It hadn't quite hit him that she left until he had his first beer, which became three, and soon he was drinking anything alcoholic because sobriety was a curse; living in pain and agony, his heart swelling and pushing against his ribs, bruising his ribcage.
"I-I'm trying...r-really, hard, b-but Audrey doesn't l-love me. She took my b-baby f-from me. Said I c-can't ever s-see 'em." He coughed in his arm and stood up, only to fall back down on the mattress. "I can't see my daughter anymore. She's g-gone, Ace. Gone w-with my little baby."
Ace walked further into Gunner's bedroom, kicking aside takeout containers and clothes as he made his way to the bed. Out of place mattress, smoke-scenting room, and the frigid air, he wasn't just low, he was in pieces. "You've haven't left that bed in three days and you've been drinking yourself shitfaced every chance you get," he chided. "Man up and get yourself together, Shaw."
"Y-You don't have a g-girlfriend," Gunner, hands quivering as he lazily fumbled for his cigarettes, groaned and sat up. The colours were changing right before his eyes, a sharp, repetitive pounding spreading from the front to the back of his head. "You don't h-have kids. You don't g-get it..."
"I get that you're wasting your time. Drinking and using drugs ain't gonna change any of this shit."
"So get out!" he screamed from deep within. "I don't fucking need you!"
The alcohol and toxins stole his youth. It degraded him, made him a hollow shell of the boy he remembered being. It was early afternoon and he was still drinking, sulking, and brooding about the things he could change but didn't. They were his coping mechanisms. How was he expected to survive without them? He couldn't part with the only constant aspect of his life that brought him peace and solace. The drinks were a shoulder to lean on, the drugs were open arms, but Audrey was the only real thing that could comfort him.
