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I never pulled the trigger.
I was too much of a coward to do it. Instead I sat there the whole night with it lying on my bedside table. I laid in the dingy lamplight on my cheap mattress and stared up at the ceiling, tracing the rough texture with my eyes. The next morning, when I woke up in a pool of my own piss and hungover beyond belief, I just gave up.
I had no job, no family, and no life. I didn’t even have any money since I had spent it all on my ever-growing dependence on alcohol. I knew I couldn’t pull the trigger myself, but I needed money to drown myself, so I sent the paperwork in for unemployment. When the check finally showed up, I didn’t even pay the bills. I just spent it on booze. The thirst was all I felt. All I ever wanted to feel. It drowned out the pain and it made the recurring dreams easier to forget. Everything fell into squalor and disrepair around me. The only thing I cared about was making sure there was another bottle to follow the one I had just finished.
And then one day, as if the universe needed to punish me even more, I saw him.
I was driving through town after stopping by a different store for my supplies. The first one had stopped selling to me after I stumbled into their racks and destroyed an entire shelf of wine. They told me I didn’t need anymore, as if they actually understood me or anything I’d been through. I can’t remember what I did, but I was out of there the moment the owner started calling the police.
As I stopped in front of the gas station on the main corner of town that morning, I saw someone out of the corner of my eye. Turning back to look, I found Kit leaning against his car pumping gas. I recognized him immediately although he had cut his hair short and allowed his facial hair to grow out into a dense scruff. He was dressed in black from head to toe with a bright white tie. I swore I could even see those green eyes from my truck. I sat there, dumbfounded until a car horn blasted behind me, bringing me back to my surroundings.The light had been green for some time. I saw Kit look up at my truck, but I quickly ducked my head out of the way and sped off through the now-red light. I hoped, more than anything, he hadn’t seen me.
Two hours later I had almost cleared through another bottle, slumped down in my rotting armchair in nothing but my stained underwear and a t-shirt. Empty bottles were littered across the floor among old, greasy pizza boxes. I felt myself getting to the edge of sweet blackout, the only place where I was free from the thoughts that haunted me. This was what I had to do to live. To get through the day to day of living with the self-loathing and hatred inside me. I didn’t deserve anything better anyway. I tipped the bottle back, draining the last of its contents as my doorbell rang, a sound I hadn’t heard in over a year. As it echoed through the house, I found myself confused as to what I should do. In my drunken haze I stood up and wobbled out to the front door, completely unaware of how unsightly I was at that moment.
I fiddled with the door handle, trying to get it to turn as my vision swam. I finally got it turned and pulled it open, leaning against the doorjamb as I looked out through the dirty screen door. And there, standing on my front porch in his freshly pressed black outfit, was Kit. There was a look of fury on his face as he stared up at me, like he was about to explode with anger. But when he made eye contact with me, his face melted into pity in less than a second as he looked me up and down. His teeth came apart and his mouth hung open slightly.
My body began to panic, my heart leaping in my chest. I didn’t know what to do. It suddenly dawned on me how disgusting I was. How many days had it been since I’d taken a shower? Why was he here? This was the last thing I wanted. Why couldn’t everyone just leave me alone to die?
“Ryan?” he whispered on the other side of the screen. “What... what have you done to yourself?”
I couldn’t utter a sound. I took a step backwards, trying to push the door closed on the nightmare that had come to life before my very eyes. I’d hoped this day would never come, that I’d live out the rest of my life without having to see his face again. I’d even gone so far as to pray a few times to a god I didn’t believe in. Yet here he was. No power on earth could undo the damage of him seeing me in this state. I would’ve rather been dead than him witness my squalor.
As I stepped back my heel caught the edge of the rug and I felt myself falling. The blackout was close and I’d lost most of the control to my limbs. I went down hard, hitting the rug that sat on top of the linoleum floor. My head made contact with the ratty surface and my world went dark.
***
I’m not sure how long I was out, but when I woke I was in my own bed somehow. My head was throbbing. I lifted a hand to check, finding an ice pack pressed against it with a towel. I ripped it away, tossing it to the floor. I glanced around the room as my vision still swam. There was no light beyond the curtains, meaning it must have been past sunset. My alarm clock was broken into pieces on the floor, long since incapable of telling time. I pushed myself upright, the exertion causing my head to pound with pain, but I pushed through. Swinging my legs over the bed, I knew there was only one thing that would cure me.
A drink. And I was long overdue.
I stumbled across the bedroom, slamming against the door frame as I tripped. Steadying myself against it, I stepped out into the living room and rounded the corner to the kitchen. There, leaning against the sink, was Kit. He was turning over bottle after bottle of booze, letting them drain down the sink and tossing the empties in the garbage can he’d pulled close. He still wore his nice black slacks, but he’d tossed his shirt and tie on the counter, standing there in just his gray undershirt. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. For the briefest of seconds I felt happy to see him. Then the rage began to surge through my body as I watched the amber liquid drain away.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jonathan?” I snarled, pounding my way across the linoleum.
All the hate and rage from the past few years came surging through my body. I hated him. He was the reason my life had been ruined. I wanted him gone.
“Why are you in my house you fucking faggot prick?!”
“If you say that word one more time,” he replied calmly, “I will break your nose.”
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” I screamed as the last of the alcohol swirled down the sink drain.
“Nice to see you too, Ryan. Is this where you’ve been all these years? Being a drunk piece of shit?”
“Get out of my house you fucker!” I yelled within inches of his face. “Now! I want you out and I never want to see you again!”
“I’m not leaving. I’ve still got to clean up this mess you’ve made.”
I looked around, noticing the piles of empty bottles and boxes strewn throughout the house. I’d never realized how bad it had gotten. Maybe because I hadn’t been this sober in years. But that didn’t matter. Kit was destroying my only escape from the world and my problems. I could already hear the voices in my head. My father telling me he’d kill me if he ever found out, the guys at school laughing about my failed hookups, the girls screaming how pathetic I was for not staying hard for them, and the ogre telling me I needed to be taught a lesson. It all came rushing back as I gripped the sides of my head, willing them to stop. But they never listened. They just kept on laughing, telling me how useless and pathetic I was. How I didn’t deserve to even be alive. How everyone would hunt me down if they ever found out what happened between Kit and I.
“Please! Leave!” I screamed, still holding the sides of my head as I sunk down to the floor. I could feel the hot tears beginning to fall from my eyes as I closed them tighter. “Jonathan... please go! I don’t want you here! I need this!” I cried, picking up an empty bottle and hurling it at the wall where it shattered into a million pieces. “You don’t understand!”
Quietly, Kit walked over to me and crouched down, bringing his eyes level with mine. I refused to look at them, not able to bear the pity that clouded them like a heavy mist.
“Ryan,” he said softly. “I’m going to help you.”
“All you’re doing is hurting me!” I exclaimed, pushing him away. “Can’t you see that? Get out Jonathan!”
“I’m not going anywhere Ryan,” he stated, bringing himself closer again. He placed a hand on my shoulder, “I can’t let you keep doing this. You’re going to kill yourself if you keep it up.”
“That’s what I want!” I yelled back, pulling my head up and looking him dead in the eye. “I want to die! I want to be gone from all of this! I don’t want to see you, or Chris, or Kevin, or anyone else ever again! The only reason I’m still here is because I was too much of a bitch to pull the trigger myself!”
My voice caught in my throat. I’d never said it out loud before.
“Ryan...” that soft voice spoke once more. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes I do!” I spat back. “Get out of here Jonathan, I don’t want you. I don’t want your help. I don’t want anything!”
“I’m not leaving, Ryan,” he stated flatly, pushing himself to a standing position. “I’m going to help you whether you like it or not.”
He went back to tossing bottles into the trash can. After he had rinsed the sink and cleared the counters, he pulled cleaners I didn’t remember buying from the lower cupboards and began scrubbing. I watched him from the floor, snivelling in my own self-pity and hatred. The headache was getting stronger and my throat was parched. I needed a drink, one way or another.
I pushed myself to a standing position and made my way across the room slowly. I kept an eye on Kit as I reached up to grab my truck keys. I always kept them on the hook near the door, but I felt nothing. I looked over to see the antique brass hook, but no keys in sight.
Without even turning around Kit sighed, “I’m not stupid you know. You aren’t going to find them. No fucking clue how you managed to keep a valid license this long.”
“Fuck!” I yelled, throwing my hands up. “Fine! I’ll just call the police then since you’re trespassing!”
“Good luck,” Kit cooed. “Your cell is gone too and the landline has mysteriously been disconnected.”
I stormed over to Kit, grabbing him by the neck and spinning him around, my fist raised to strike.
But I stopped.
“Go on,” Kit taunted, not flinching in the least. “Hit me, Ryan. Maybe that will finally fix all your problems, hitting the person you blame most for all your mistakes. You haven’t grown up at all have you? You’re still that same scared kid who wouldn’t leave his shitty home even though he had a way out. The kid who abandoned me when I cared about him most. The kid who couldn’t make a single decision in his life except to avoid making decisions. The only thing you know how to do is blame other people.”
I lowered my fist and let go of Kit, my finger marks still bright red on his neck where I’d been squeezing. I didn’t say anything.
“You’re pathetic,” Kit sighed. “Now go lay down before I punch you myself. I’m getting tired of your fake-ass bullshit.”
I took a couple of steps back as Kit turned away from me. He scrubbed the counter vigorously, like he intended to scrub the laminate clean off of it.
“By the way,” he growled. “My Dad died a couple of days ago, not that you give a fuck. His house is mine now.” He stopped scrubbing for a moment and looked up, brushing the sweaty strand of hair out of his face, “And I’m not going anywhere.”