Jagged shards explode wildly across the room as the half-empty bottle shatters against the wall, adding one more dent to its pocked surface.
What was she mad about this time? The dazed young man could hardly think past the fuzz in his head. More screaming, more cussing. He catches her as she tries to take a swing at him and pushes her away. Now he's yelling back...when did that start? Her voice screeches like metal on metal, eardrums begging for mercy as the situation escalates. Out of all their fights this week, this one was by far the worst. The woman throws a chair as she takes another aggressive step towards him. Her violence was always so childish...though his usually wasn't much better.
Another empty bottle flies his way, grazing the side of his head before exploding against the fridge. Doesn't really matter, it doesn't belong to him anyway...nothing in here does, nothing big, at least.
"You're insane!" He shouts. His words seem to be escaping his mouth before he even registers them on his tongue. He raises a hand against another incoming bottle, this one barely open. The impact hurts, even through the fuzz. He grunts as it bounces off his palm and onto the floor, fluids and glass blasting across the cheap linoleum.
Now he's furious.
"That was a full bottle, you neurotic street trash!"
"I'm so sick of this, you don't even care about me, you never cared!" She screams back, "You only care about your booze, you stupid, worthless, lazy pig!"
His focus finally seems to be dialing in...their shouting matches often had that effect.
"Oh, yeah? Is that why you always come crawling back to me whenever another one of your stupid colleagues dies?"
The woman's voice cracks as it reaches a new pitch,
"Shut up!!"
She throws another drunken swing and misses by a hair. The young man continues, shoulders stiffening as he lurches combatively towards her,
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"I'm nothing to you but an emotional support boy toy, and you think you're in a position to judge me?!"
"I hope you're the next chore for the removal crews; they'd be doing us all a favor!"
"Get out!!"
Another shrill scream follows as the woman storms off towards the front door, miscellaneous objects scattering as she angrily sweeps a nearby counter clean.
"Oh- Seriously?!" The young man shouts, his protests cut off by the slam of the loose door.
Then, silence.
Tired, smoke-tainted lungs bulge as they take in as deep of a breath as they still can, filling his chest. He lets it out slow, head drooping as his exhausted neck muscles slacken.
Well...here we are, just like clockwork, he muses, making his way over to the living room window.
Can't say I'm surprised...I mean, really, what did I expect?
...my world isn't the only one falling apart.
A dull amber glow floods the darkened streets outside, broken by the occasional flicker. He watches as a few lone pedestrians make their way down the walk when, without warning, one of them suddenly goes limp, their motionless form dropping to the concrete with an unceremonious thud. Without a word, the remaining citizens veer off from their respective paths and converge on the body, proceeding to drag it off out of sight.
Ah, who am I kidding? I empty bottles faster than they can carry off the dead...frankly, it's a miracle that I haven't joined them yet.
Irritating reminders begin to flood his mind as he catches a glimpse of some unpaid bills in his peripheral vision, cluttering the coffee table sitting crookedly at the center of the room.
...well...maybe 'miracle' is a bit of a stretch...
He forces his focus back to the window, peering out towards the long, flat landscape, the slow-blink of numerous watchtower lights flashing their ominous reds along the horizon.
...I'd be lying if I said I didn't envy them...but alas, it's pointless to dwell. Besides, it's not like I plan to do anything about it, I only say these things to satisfy the edgy teenager inside of me who just refuses to die...or at least see a therapist...
He chuckles internally at the mental image the thought conjures up.
...not that I have the money for a good one anyway, what with the 'cost of my laziness' piling up. 'Rock bottom', I believe this is called...the only place one can expect to be when life is a millstone tied to your feet.
Regardless of whether he had again failed to learn his lesson, or simply didn't care anymore, he snatches up one of the stray, half-empty bottles as he makes his way towards the bedroom.
Whatever. I'll drown when I have the energy to drown.
I'm going to bed.
Three burning gulps and the vessel is dry.
