Murder She Wrote

32. Divorce

I watched the liquor rise up to the top of the cup and spill just a little on the table. With drowsy eyes, I stared at it, contemplating rather I should take on the drink or give myself a break. I went through three bottles and the effect has barely kicked in. I wanted to feel numb, as if my conscious itself wouldn't be able to stop me. I want to pass out, get away from the current agony I'm feeling. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up to a different outcome. I don't want to sit here and cry my troubles away on the kitchen floor and smashing cups on the ground. I wanted her gone. That's all. I just want everything to go back to normal.

I threw the cup on the floor, and watched it break into tiny bits of pieces. I cursed myself knowing I had to clean it up later on, along with the rest of the dishes, trash and items that were scattered around the house. Everything was a mess.

I was still in my work attire from yesterday. I didn't even dare to take it off or make the time to clean myself up. I mean why should I? It's not like I'm living with anyone to care enough to tell me how much of a fucking mess I look. Or to tell me to get off of my ass and get over myself. So why does it matter that there's stains all over my clothes and the strong stench of bourbon lingers around my body? Why does it all matter.

I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled at the ends, wanting to rip out every bit of it. Then my mind couldn't help but think of what Sierra would say if she saw me mopping around on the floor like this. There isn't a doubt she would take a seat right beside me and hold me, comforting me the best she can. Feeding me with her sweet words and caressing my hair as I lay my head gently on her lap, or bury my face in her shoulders so I could cry.

God, I miss her.

I miss touching her, I miss sleeping next to her, and I miss kissing her. I just wish I was given a small ounce of luck to see her face again.

A sudden knock came from the door, I was quickly brought back to reality. I checked the time on my phone, it read 11:56 p.m. I wasn't expecting any visitors or anyone in the matter to come to the house, I would assume people already know about the incident and claim that jeopardized my whole reputation and any other friendship or relationship I had with others. I was seen as the man who allegedly force himself on a woman, who could possibly be visiting me after that?

I dragged myself off of the floor with a bottle still in my hands. The person knocked three times before I swung the door open on them and yelled, "What?!" I was surprised to see Sierra standing in front of me. She stood there with her arms crossed over by her chest and a faint smile. I had to blink twice to make sure I'm actually standing right in front of her. I couldn't help but display a huge grin on my face. Did she really come to see me?

"Hey Michael, can I come in?" She said, sounding foreign acting as if this house didn't belong to her too. In fact her whole body language seemed uncomfortable, is my presence already a problem to her?

"Sure," I responded, opening the door widely for her to come in. She walked inside, her foot kicked an empty bottle on her way in. Her eyes traveled around the house and I could already read her thoughts out loud by the disgusted facial expression she displayed. "I didn't have time to clean," I said to her.

"That's very clear," she mumbled. She turned to face me, "How much have you drank?"

"Does it matter?" I boldly said.

"Okay," she ignored my response. "I've heard what happened," she then said. "At your job and I've heard the messages you sent me over the phone."

"I've called you like a hundred times. Why haven't you answered."

"Well my feelings towards you are still mutual. I needed time for myself. I wasn't ready to speak with you."

I scoffed, "I get it. But one call back wouldn't have hurt you." I took a sip of the bottle and walked over to the kitchen. "What you heard what happened isn't true, the bitch lied so she could get me fired that's all." I clarified before she went deep into interrogating me. "So you came all the way over here, to ask me about what happened at work instead of calling me?" I said from afar.