Between a Little Piece of Heaven and the Danger Line

Speeding was probably not in my best interest's right now, but I had to get to him, there was something wrong. I'm sorry that was all he had said and it was scaring me. What if he had killed himself, what if he did the same thing Jimmy did? I couldn't live with myself if he died too. With that thought I pressed on the gas pedal all the more, I was passing everything around me in a blur and hoped that I wouldn't get pulled over. The normally ten minute drive was achieved in three, and I leaped out of the car. The house looked and felt ominous, like something horrible had happened in it. I hoped my imagination was just playing tricks on me.

I slowly opened the door, cringing at the way it creaked open, and walked towards the living room, something was tugging me there. Then I saw him, he was half way in the kitchen and half way in the living room. He was laying on the floor limply, not moving, and a broken bottle of Everclear limply rested in his hands. He was drunk, he broke his promise. I sighed and picked up the glass that was laying around him, then dragged him to the couch, and I somehow managed to get him on it and cover him with the throw that was draped over the back.

I was pissed, no I was fucking fuming. I never once broke one of the promises that I made to him, no matter how much I wanted to. I can't remember how many times I looked over that porcelain bowl, poised with just the right aim, ready to make myself puke. I didn't do it though, not once no matter how much I wanted to. I went into his kitchen and there were two empty bottles of Jack Daniels, and his phone. He had most likely only been half a bottle in when he texted me, then felt guilty enough to drink even more. So I did the only thing I could think of doing, I gathered every last alcoholic beverage in this damn house and poured it down the drain. The four six packs of Corona? Gone. The five bottles of Jack, adios. The obscene amount of alcohol at the bar in the basement, yea that was gone too. Next I lined up all the bottles in his living room on the coffee table, that could be the first thing he saw when he woke up.

I was waiting now, sitting in the chair in the corner, two packs of smokes and an ashtray resting on the arm rest. Smoke curled all around me, as I breathed in the cancerous air, and I couldn't seem to care that I was slowly sinking into my anger. He was going to get it when he woke up, and I'm talking a harsh slap of reality. I put out the Marlboro I had been smoking and lit up another one. It was the only thing keeping me from strangling him right now. He scared the shit out of me, I though he... I thought the worst, that's for damn sure.

I was a pack and a half in when he woke up and bolted to his hall bathroom, I could hear the sound of him retching, but didn't get up to help him out. I wasn't getting in that mess. After ten minutes of him puking, I heard the toilet flush, and him make his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, pulled something out, and opened a cabinet again pulling something out. He slowly walked back into the living room, and stopped short when he saw all the glittering bottles on the table.

“What the?” I heard him whisper, and he moved to the table, before picking up a bottle. “How the hell?” He murmured again, setting it back down. He sat on the couch, and I caught his attention as I lit up another Marlboro. “Zacky?” He asked, with his voice at regular volume I could hear the slur. He was still drunk.

“Just sleep it the fuck of Brian, I'll talk to you when you're sober.” I growled pulling in more smoke, my hands were shaking a combination of too much nicotine and nerves. He stumbled over to me, eyes filled with the sweet solution we call tears, but I couldn't find it in my angry state to care.

“I'm sorry,” He slurred, coming closer, stumbling over his own feet. I could smell the alcohol seeping from his pores, and shook my head. I stood up and directed him back to the couch, I would deal with him when he would remember it. He put up little protest as I tucked him into the couch, pleading his apologies as he went. I ignored them for the time being. I sat back in the chair, and finished the second pack of Marlboro's. After that I just stared at him, I trusted him, I believed him how could he do this?

I looked out the window and the sun was starting to peak over the horizon, I shook the fog out of my head and waited, I was going to give him the wake up of his life. It was going to be petty and childish, but at the moment I could care less. He started moving in his sleep at a little past nine, that's when I made my move. I walked into the kitchen and as noisily as possible I made breakfast. I slammed cabinet doors, dropped the pans on the range with a little more force than necessary, and chopped the hell outta some fruit and vegetables. I made sure every little noise I made was amplified, and took in pure satisfaction when I heard him whimpering in pain as he dragged himself into the kitchen with me. I held even more satisfaction when I flicked on the blender as soon as he stepped into the room. I grinned at his yelp of pain.

“Oh, I'm sorry do you have headache?” I yelled over the motor of the blender, and just for good measure I pulsed it a couple of times. He glared at me and sat down in a bar stool at the counter. I go back to noisily making breakfast. After ten minutes I slam a southern style bacon omelet in front of him with a raspberry smoothie. “So you want to tell me what the fuck you were thinking?” I ask him as he picks at his food.

He sighed and pushed the plate away, “That it would make me feel better. I wanted to be numb.” He was quiet, and now that he wasn't slurring I could hear the rasp from the sore throat the usually followed drinking straight Everclear. I snorted, I knew I was being childish, but I didn't care right now. “What, just because you have the perfect life, and the perfect family doesn't mean that everybody else does.” Brian growled, sliding a small piece of egg and pepper into his mouth.

“Yea, I have the perfect life, do I need to remind you of all the bull shit I just went through?” I asked him with a light drawl in my voice. I rolled my eyes at his grunt of disapproval, “Hell while we're talking about that, let's go back to all those promises I made you shall we?” I asked with false cheer lighting my voice, and smirked when the high octave made him cringe. “Let's see, I promised you I would start eating again, and by golly I sure as hell did that. I promised you I would stop making myself throw it all up too, I did that, no matter how much I didn't want too. I promised I would get a restraining order on my ex-girlfriend, did that too, hell I'm moving out of my house just for good measure. I made you promise me one thing Brian, one thing and you couldn't even do that. Why don't I start going back on my promises?” I threw my plate to the side and stood up, and headed for the hall bathroom, where I put the next part of my plan in action. There was a set of small speakers plugged into the wall outlet, and I hit play on my phone that was hooked into them.

The sound of retching filled the room, I wasn't going to stoop so low as to actually betray my promise, but that didn't mean I couldn't make him think I had. I sat on the lid of the toilet, and waited. Sure enough the sound of him banging on the door followed soon after the door had closed. I ignored him, and cringed at how life like the track that was playing sounded. I didn't expect the door to be kicked open. Brian stood there with tears streaming down his face. I hit stop on my phone and brushed past him. “Hurts doesn't it?” I asked him as I passed to sit on the chair I had occupied all night. He trailed after me like a lost puppy, and sat on the couch he had been sleeping on.

“I'm so sorry Zacky.” He choked out, resting his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, “I'm so, so sorry.”

“What the fuck happened last night Brian? I know you went to your dad's so explain to me what happened here?” I wasn't even yelling anymore, I just wanted to get to the bottom of this so I could make everything right.