Whiskey Lullaby

“Bye guys!” I waved, as I headed towards my house. It was an old farm house that Gerard and I had remodeled. We always dreamed of living out in the country, after MCR was over. I had just got off tour with my band, Leathermouth. My insides were flopping around in excitement. I couldn’t wait to see Gerard, plant a big, sloppy kiss on him, and hold him. I passed the ancient willow tree sitting just to the left of the house, its branches swaying in the gentle breeze. I opened the screen door and set my luggage inside.

“Gerard! I’m home!” I shouted to the empty house. I heard scuffling coming from upstairs. I figured it was Gerard rushing down to meet me. After about a minute, I got confused and decided to go up and see him. As I walked up the stairs, I heard strained voices. I saw our bedroom door was ajar, and went over to it alarmed.

“Gerard?” I asked, opening the door completely. My heart fell to the floor, shattering like glass. There he was, half naked, struggling into a pair of jeans. Sitting on the bed, was a woman with a short plaid skirt on, just finishing the clasps on her bra. They both looked at me with shocked looks on their faces. Gerard’s mouth kept opening and closing like a fish’s. My mind switched on auto-pilot. I crossed the room in three steps, my fist connecting with his jaw. He fell to the floor, where I straddled his chest, pinning him down.

“Frankie, please stop!” He pleaded, but my fists didn’t obey. I noticed tears joined my rain of punches and jabs.

“Don’t ‘Frankie’ me. You stupid, cheap, whore!”

I won’t say it didn’t hurt while I was punishing him. It probably hurt me worse. To see my baby being beaten, and I’m the one causing it. The girl had long since left, quickly gathering the remnants of her clothing as I laid my assault on Gerard.

“How could you Gerard?” I asked as I finally stopped. “I love you. I thought you loved me back.” Sobs began to wrack my body.

“I do love you, I just slipped up. I was drunk.” That wasn’t a good enough excuse. I got up and headed downstairs.

“Frankie?” He called after me.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” I screamed at him, my crying making my voice crack. I slipped my duffle bag onto my shoulder, my guitar case on the other, and my suitcase in my hand.

“Where are you going?” His voice was traced in fear. I saw him at the top of the stairs, starting to make a descent.

“I’m leaving you. I’m not coming back. It’s obvious you don’t love me, considering you went back on your promise to be faithful to me.” With that, I went out the door.

***************************************************

“Two shots of whiskey.” I didn’t even add the please. I’m usually more polite than I’m being. The bartender poured the shots in front of me. I grabbed a twenty from my pocket and slapped it on the counter.

“Leave the bottle.” I demanded. He looked me up and down in suspicion, shrugged, and walked away. I would be drowning my sorrows tonight. If I’m to move on from this, I need to forget his face.

*****************************************************

I stumbled into the empty hotel room, second whiskey bottle in hand. No matter how much I drank, he was still imprinted upon my memory. I kept seeing him and that girl. Imagining what they could have been doing.

“Gerard, you stupid fuck!” I threw the bottle against the wall, causing it to break, and rain a shower of liquor down the wall. I mentally cursed myself, knowing I had to sober now, or did I? I flopped down on the bed, crying my eyes out. Was I not enough for him, that he had to run to a woman for satisfaction? My mind kept playing memories of us, like a twisted home movie stuck on loop. I pressed both hands against the sides of my head and squeezed my eyes shut. The volume got louder and louder.

“SHUT UP!” I shouted at the memories, but they didn’t fade. It just seemed to be put on pause. This certain moment, was when I first realized that I loved Gerard. He was about to marry some chick he met on tour. I tried talking sense into him, but his stubborn ass didn’t want to hear it. I finally gave in and told him he couldn’t marry her because I loved him. Then he embraced me in a lip-lock, telling me that was all he ever wanted to hear.

It hit me now. I still love him. I always will, but my cheese was slowly falling off my cracker. I looked over at the bedside table and found a writing tablet. I scrambled for a pen, but I only found an overly used one on its last bit of ink. I wrote but only six words. The memories flooded my brain again, far more intense than the last round. I did the only thing I could think of. I reached for the gun in my suitcase, pressed it to my temple, and pulled the trigger. I finally stopped his memories.

"I love him 'til I die."