Oxford Comma,
Breathe.
Joshua's P.O.V.
Walking around the house, getting drunk. That's all I've been doing these past few days. Whiskey, vodka, beer, wine, everything I could get my hands on helped me paralyze this shitty world I live in. I'm a master in fucking everything up.
Teenage dad? Yes.
Alcoholic? Yes.
Fucker? Always.
Needless to say, my place was fucking messy. Nothing was put in it's place and everyone who tried to move the things in my room would get their head blown off. I heard all of those maids say that I was a drunk. Some pitied me. Frankly, I don't give a fuck. All I know is that my girlfriend hates me, my ex-girlfriend killed my baby and my friend is now my enemy. Great.
But still, I had a numb feeling inside of me. I tried getting rid of it with booze, but it only made it worse. I thought it would get away in time, but it didn't. I started living with it. I brought over all of the slutty chicks who wanted to fuck me, and I granted their wish. It was meaningless. They all had something that reminded me of Twylor. However sick that sounds. I had perfection, and I let it slip away.
I was now laying in the living room. It was the place where I first brought Twylor, and I haven't moved anything, till this day. Nothing would take away her memory. I already memorized her smile, her perfume, her taste. Her crazy clothes, messy hair and beautiful lips. I still dream of her eyes, looking back at me in pity.
"Aah!" I yelled throwing a bottle of beer at the wall. The bottle broke and the beer was now in the carpet. I never tried calling her. I was too afraid of someone else picking up the phone. I never read her messages, fearing it might say she found someone new. She will always be mine, and only mine.
Ring, ring
The doorbell rang. I could see the cameras filming Jacques. 'The fuck is he doing here?'. I smashed yet another bottle of alcohol.
I spoke through the inter phone.
"Fuck off." I said. My words were slumbered due to the heavy amount of alcohol I've been consuming.
"Fuck you, man. Twylor asked me to come." He said seriously. At the mention of her name, my heart bolted. I quickly let him in. Why the fuck did I just do that, again?
As soon as the bastard stepped in, I tried punching him as hard as I could. Idiot avoided the hit.
"What the fuck, man? What is wrong with you? Is-" His question was cut off when he looked at all the bottles laying around, half-empty or empty. Probably around 30.
His glance soon changed into one of a man that pitied me. He looked at me with a mix of pity, anger and disgust.
"Is this how you want her to see you, Joshua? Is this how you want her to remember you?A fucking alcoholic?!" He yelled in rage. "You're shit, man. I thought you weren't such a pussy. In this case, she's better off."
"Who the fuck are you to judge me, you piece of shit?! Did you lose your love?! You turned her against me. The only good thing I fucking had, and you took that away! You're the only one who knew, and you fucking ratted me out! Why the fuck did you have to get her involved?" I said. I landed one punch on him. He then punched me back, but I laid there still. Nothing could hurt me. Nothing could break me anymore.
"She asked me to come here. She wanted to know how you were. She had the right to know, Joshua. She had that right. Sober the fuck up and you'd better confess man." Jacques said.
He walked around, picking up the bottles and throwing them out. He picked up the last bottle, but he noticed something under the table. Panties> He came to me in one, long stroll and punched me with all his power.
"She wants to come back to you, you piece of shit." His eyes were red. I guess Twylor had managed to get everyone close to her. As soon as I thought that, my heart started aching.
"Don't." I said looking out the window. "Don't tell her anything. I will." I said determinedly. I knew this meant that she'd never forget me. I had to see the only girl I truly love walk away from me, with me being a sting in her heart, a bad memory.
"Fuck you." Jacques said getting out. He slammed the door behind him and after 2 minutes, I could hear him driving off like a maniac. I sat on the couch playing with the phone in my hands. I decided.
"Twylor? We need to talk." I said. Here goes disaster.
Walking around the house, getting drunk. That's all I've been doing these past few days. Whiskey, vodka, beer, wine, everything I could get my hands on helped me paralyze this shitty world I live in. I'm a master in fucking everything up.
Teenage dad? Yes.
Alcoholic? Yes.
Fucker? Always.
Needless to say, my place was fucking messy. Nothing was put in it's place and everyone who tried to move the things in my room would get their head blown off. I heard all of those maids say that I was a drunk. Some pitied me. Frankly, I don't give a fuck. All I know is that my girlfriend hates me, my ex-girlfriend killed my baby and my friend is now my enemy. Great.
But still, I had a numb feeling inside of me. I tried getting rid of it with booze, but it only made it worse. I thought it would get away in time, but it didn't. I started living with it. I brought over all of the slutty chicks who wanted to fuck me, and I granted their wish. It was meaningless. They all had something that reminded me of Twylor. However sick that sounds. I had perfection, and I let it slip away.
I was now laying in the living room. It was the place where I first brought Twylor, and I haven't moved anything, till this day. Nothing would take away her memory. I already memorized her smile, her perfume, her taste. Her crazy clothes, messy hair and beautiful lips. I still dream of her eyes, looking back at me in pity.
"Aah!" I yelled throwing a bottle of beer at the wall. The bottle broke and the beer was now in the carpet. I never tried calling her. I was too afraid of someone else picking up the phone. I never read her messages, fearing it might say she found someone new. She will always be mine, and only mine.
Ring, ring
The doorbell rang. I could see the cameras filming Jacques. 'The fuck is he doing here?'. I smashed yet another bottle of alcohol.
I spoke through the inter phone.
"Fuck off." I said. My words were slumbered due to the heavy amount of alcohol I've been consuming.
"Fuck you, man. Twylor asked me to come." He said seriously. At the mention of her name, my heart bolted. I quickly let him in. Why the fuck did I just do that, again?
As soon as the bastard stepped in, I tried punching him as hard as I could. Idiot avoided the hit.
"What the fuck, man? What is wrong with you? Is-" His question was cut off when he looked at all the bottles laying around, half-empty or empty. Probably around 30.
His glance soon changed into one of a man that pitied me. He looked at me with a mix of pity, anger and disgust.
"Is this how you want her to see you, Joshua? Is this how you want her to remember you?A fucking alcoholic?!" He yelled in rage. "You're shit, man. I thought you weren't such a pussy. In this case, she's better off."
"Who the fuck are you to judge me, you piece of shit?! Did you lose your love?! You turned her against me. The only good thing I fucking had, and you took that away! You're the only one who knew, and you fucking ratted me out! Why the fuck did you have to get her involved?" I said. I landed one punch on him. He then punched me back, but I laid there still. Nothing could hurt me. Nothing could break me anymore.
"She asked me to come here. She wanted to know how you were. She had the right to know, Joshua. She had that right. Sober the fuck up and you'd better confess man." Jacques said.
He walked around, picking up the bottles and throwing them out. He picked up the last bottle, but he noticed something under the table. Panties> He came to me in one, long stroll and punched me with all his power.
"She wants to come back to you, you piece of shit." His eyes were red. I guess Twylor had managed to get everyone close to her. As soon as I thought that, my heart started aching.
"Don't." I said looking out the window. "Don't tell her anything. I will." I said determinedly. I knew this meant that she'd never forget me. I had to see the only girl I truly love walk away from me, with me being a sting in her heart, a bad memory.
"Fuck you." Jacques said getting out. He slammed the door behind him and after 2 minutes, I could hear him driving off like a maniac. I sat on the couch playing with the phone in my hands. I decided.
"Twylor? We need to talk." I said. Here goes disaster.