Disasterpiece

I pulled up outside his house, surprised that I actually remembered how to get here. I killed the ignition and looked up at the red bricked abode; there were lights shining from the inside on the second floor – I must’ve slept for a while or they killed the session early after our ‘episode’. Getting out of the car I walked up to the door, surprised and slightly alarmed to find it ajar, I stood awkwardly on the porch; not wanting to invite myself in. Tapping on the door frame loudly I waited, but there was no response.

Groaning inwardly, I bit my lip; glancing around the street meekly I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The atmosphere inside was stagnant; the floorboards creaked menacingly beneath my feet. If I hadn’t known better I would’ve thought no one had occupied the house in months. I followed the same trail I had taken with Corey and Paul to the back of the house; but there were no signs of him – not even a dirty cup in the kitchen. I tip toed back to the front of the house and stopped by the staircase; there was one going up to the second level and one heading to the basement.

Figuring that the lights in the window upstairs must mean something I bit the bullet and ascended the staircase. The landing was designed much the same as downstairs; the dark brown theme continued and awards for his various musical achievements littered the walls. I spotted another ajar door and headed towards it apprehensively; praying that he wouldn’t try and jump me for entering his house uninvited. I stood numbly in front of the door; the handle seemed to glow daringly in the light that seeped under the frame. I was just seconds away from turning around and trying to talk to him another time when I heard a hiccup from the other side, followed by a low and steady groan.

I swore under my breath and pushed the door open; my eyes fell closed as it swung back on the hinges. They opened quickly again when there was no yell or smashing of a bottle been thrown at my head. I found myself staring into a bedroom that was obviously his; it was one of the most beautiful set ups I had ever seen – well it would be had it not been completely trashed. The light I had seen in the window came from a lamp lying on the floor by an upturned mattress and screwed up blanket; the picture frame that usually hung above the bed had been torn from its hook and shredded from the middle by an unyielding hand.

And amidst all the destruction he sat in a freeze frame on the rug, rum bottle in hand; staring blankly at the wall through his long hair. My heart ached; I knew those eyes only too well, I hoped they were something my reflection would only have to endure once – but there they were again so obviously shattered in his sockets. I suddenly understood his behaviour towards me; the resentment, the trial - I had done the same thing with everyone around me, I almost couldn’t believe that someone else could feel the way I had felt – it was almost a relief to find a kindred soul that could appreciate just how much it hurt. No matter how good you are at writing, no matter what kind of infamous actor status you have; no matter if you write poetry or songs or melodies – the feeling of betrayal by the one you love can never be fully depicted until you’ve had to go through the hellish heart murder yourself.

Out of all the people in the world I should’ve been able to stop and register where he was coming from when we were fighting. How I could just ignore his whole side of the argument made cringe in shame.

I stepped forward shaking, kneeling down once I reached him. I slowly put my hand out, uncurling his fingers from the bottle neck; he only moved once I started to pull the bottle away. His head lolled to the side, his bloodshot eyes fell on me; I felt every stab of deception embodied inside him. Leaving the bottle out of reach I took his calloused hands into mine gently, he didn’t blink; just continued to stare.

“Joey I am so sorry,” I apologised quietly; the slightest bit on confusion plagued his brow momentarily; but no more than that. I looked down at our hands, somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that had this been any other situation the sick lust would’ve bubbled and boiled over by now. This wasn’t any other situation though. I looked back up him, he was still staring. “I should’ve realised before, I shouldn’t have said what I did this afternoon…you were right, I have everything I need now; you’re the one that needs to heal. I was been greedy, I just hadn’t realised yet that it wasn’t mine to contain anymore and for that – for this I am so sorry Joey, please believe me,” I whispered, knowing that he probably wouldn’t really understand what I meant – but I was sure he would get the general idea.

He finally blinked, licking his chapped lips; his gaze did not leave mine though. “Why did she do it?” he choked out, his voice dry and scratchy – his eyes searching desperately for an answer I did not have. Well a true answer any way…anyone had the sane answer already; she was obviously psychotic. I squeezed his hands lightly, shaking my head sadly.

“I don’t know, but everything happens for a reason; trust me on this, and she obviously isn’t the right person for you,” I replied pathetically; I did stand by the whole ‘fate’ philosophy, but when it was thrown at someone in a desperate time I knew it was impossible to swallow amidst the freshly bleeding memories. Joey sniffed, a tear fell from his dazzling blue eyes; he frowned deeper than should be humanly possible.

“I love her,” he breathed out, trying to find reason in spoken word. I shuffled closer to him, tightening my grip on his hands I looked directly into his eyes.

“No, you loved her,” I corrected deliberately. He sucked in his breath, his eyes focused back and forth between mine in search of something that told him this was ok; that he could take up this mentality.

“I’m not there yet,” he whispered, I didn’t expect him to be; I had only just realised I was after all. I nodded knowingly.

“But you will be with time,” I replied, personally vowing to help him get through this quicker and less painfully than I had. He didn’t deserve to suffer.