The bruises aching freshly on my hips, I run into the dark knowing my intention but not my direction. I know where the water is; the stars wink gently from its ripples. I know where the woods are; the owls hoot sharply from its branches. I stagger in between my two guidelines, trusting that my black eyes will grow accustomed to my black surroundings. They do after a while - and even when I test myself, closing my eyes and navigating the path before me through my gossamer thin blue green veined eyelids I can still see the way. Forwards, I stumble towards Sainsbury's in my muddy kneed trousers and my broken leather boots - finger nails so clogged with soil I could grow a garden in them.
A pang at the base of my spine. I clamour for the bottle of brandy I stole from his hiding place as I escaped - drew liquid to quench the memory of him drawing blood. Most of it goes in my mouth but some of the numbing elixir is wasted on my chin and down my neck. I discard the bottle in a hedge and promise myself to never do that again.
Hoping I won't. Knowing I will. Can't help it.
There's a bench up ahead, and I'm woozing, and there's enough for one more rollie in the baccy I bought for him. He might as well have eaten my money. It'd have been better for his shallow heartbeats than his shallow habits.
Slump. Breathe. Roll. Light. Inhale. Exhale. Calm.
Who am I to judge?
I've hardly made it any of the way back. I sink into the soft wood of the soggy bench supporting my bum and my back. It doesn't matter that it's cold and it's raining, it doesn't matter that I'm scared and I'm stuck.
I remember the bottle of white wine I stashed behind the tree to my left on my way to his yesterday evening. I always end up in the right place in the worst situations. I smirk. How disparaging of me. How naïve. Cruel.
A cigarette and a swig. Fuck. Yum.
I'll have another glug, just a small one, that'll calm me.
Another glug, small one, calms me.
Glug, small, calm.
Gluh..Smahhhhll...Ahhlllmmmm.
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