A L I V E (Old Story)

A L I V E

By: Shaire Blythe

 

“Welcome back to Sports Live. I’m Ronald Horton, keeping you informed with the latest news of the New Orleans Saints versus the Dallas Cowboys, professional football. We’d left off with Dallas up by four, but while on break the Saints took a turn - all credit to running back Lee Preston. Saints are now in the lead; 65-61. May I remind you that we’re in the third qu--”

 

I turned off the television. I’d had enough of that bullshittin’ talk. That broadcaster’s brisk voice was getting fuckin’ irritating. My ears felt like they were bleeding. My hand was swiped across my face in frustration. I studied the living room in which I sat dead center in. It used to be so clean and put together. It had been an actual home. Now, it wasn’t even close to one.

 

All types of books, papers, food, and unknowns were scattered all over the place. I couldn’t see the mess cause not one light was on, nor sun shined through the closed blinds. I was surrounded in utter darkness. But I knew it was all there. It’d been there for days. Hell, maybe weeks or a month. I wasn’t keen on keeping track of the time that passed me by. I had no purpose to no more. I had no life anymore. All other shit in this world was unimportant and useless to my being.

 

The bottle that had been sturdy in my lap was brought up to my un-moistened lips. Feeling the malt liquor run down my throat my was a bittersweet moment. It had become my new best friend ever since the night I lost Denise. The bottle was my life companion now. It had replaced her, and was doing a damn good job at it.

 

I gulped it all down until not one drop of it was left. I dropped the empty bottle on the side of the chair and grumbled. It irritated me. Now I had to get up and get another one from the refrigerator. Damn it. I didn’t want to move a muscle. I was satisfied right were I was. But I needed more. It sure as hell wasn’t going to come to me.