I Like My Whiskey Sour
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I Like My Whiskey Sour

I sat on the high stool at the bar, absent-minded and grooving to the deafening music at the club. I could feel the music pulsating through my body and yet I sat there numb. I could hardly see at this point, my eyes begging to be shut for a bit but my brain forcing me to stay awake and alert. How inebriated was I? Lots. No, I mean it.

I had been out clubbing four nights in a row. Every night I was out partying with different friends of mine downing all kinds of whiskey. Friends whom I abandoned at various stages of my inebriation. I was in the city which never sleeps but does shut down the clubs at 1 am. A little unfair I feel. Tonight was different. Tonight was my last night in this city. I never got rid of my hangover, not for a single night, I stayed here. I was out and about. I cannot take the music anymore. It is just noise now. I stagger my way through to the restroom. I shut myself inside for a while. I can hear the muffled beats through the walls. I try to breathe but I feel the walls closing in on me. I need to get out of this place now!

I hear loud cheers, laughter, and cries outside the stall. Inside my head, I can hear him scream at me, “You think you can get away from me? You think you can run?!” “You cannot go out wearing that! You want that kind of attention you bitch?!!”. The girls outside are getting louder and so are his screams at me. I can hear him unzipping himself when I hear a zipper pulling up outside the stall. “He is here! I know in my head He is here!” I clumsily pull my dress down and open the door to run out. Everybody stops doing what they are doing and looks at me. “Darling, you look like shit!”, a very concerned pointy-noised female says to me. At least that is what I remember before I collapsed on the floor.

I feel like I am drowning and I cannot breathe. I wake up gasping for air. I now know why I felt like I was drowning. My face, torso, and upper half of my dress was drenched in water. Nothing else would bring me back to my consciousness. There was a loud buzzing, borderline annoying high-pitched voice near me. I figured if she spoke for another second, I would have woken up by that too but cold water splashed on me wins? I guess. I had barely passed out for 15 minutes. God bless waterproof makeup. I sit up and try to make sense of my face and my dress. I pat myself dry, fix whatever I can, in-short salvage whatever is left of my appearance before stepping back into the cacophony blaring outside.

I take my place on the high stool again. This time a little more in my senses than 30 minutes ago. I can see clearer. So, I can see that my whiskey sour is nowhere near me. “Hey, June! One Whiskey Sour!” I holler at the bartender. He takes one look at me, “My name is not June!” I don’t seem to care as long as I got my drink. I smile but I don’t look at him. I down three more of my poison and take over the dance floor. I am unbeatable there. A familiar face puts his arms around my waist and pulls me closer and we start gyrating to the beats belted out. I don’t know where I saw him but I knew I know him. My brain conjures up muddled faces of probably every man who looks like him. Suddenly I am scared. Very scared. I try getting away from his clenches. It was very easy. He did not stop me. I feel relieved. I get out of the club.

The quiet outside is deafening too. Have I gone deaf? I breathe a little and steady myself. What just happened? Have I been imagining things? Was it him? But I remember it was never this easy to get away from him. I start panicking again. No No No! I should have stayed inside! This is where he wants me! This is where he will drag me back! I rush inside and as I push on the door, it swings inside and I hurl myself on the floor. Someone picks me up in their arms as I groan in pain. I cannot open my eyes but I feel warm gushes on my cheek and my neck. I cut myself somewhere on the head. I feel being put down on a car seat, the engine revving and then everything goes dark in front of my eyes. I cannot fight it anymore and I close my eyes. The world fades out as I shut everything out.

I wake up at an ungodly hour with a splitting headache. I open my eyes but I cannot see anything. I groan as I try to move, my ankle is tied up in a bandage. I feel my face and I howl in pain when I touch fresh stitches on my forehead. I remember falling. Right! The fall! I have knots in my stomach as I hyperventilate! “Where am I? Why can I not remember?” I cannot find the strength to move a muscle. I groan and try to get out of the bed but I pass out again.

I wake up again. This time feeling a lot more aware of myself and my surroundings. I am back in my room. The room I dread the most. I can hear him nearby, humming my favorite song ‘La vie en rose’. He stops suddenly and barges into the room. “Well well well. My precious angel is up? How are you feeling baby? Do you feel better? Better enough to slut up the whole town darling?” He squeezes my whole arm, twisting me till tears trickle down my cheeks. He releases me roughly and goes to the kitchen again. I sit there paralyzed with fear. My muscle refuses to move an inch and I sob. I am angry and hurt. He stomps back into the room and dumps a plate full of food in my lap. “Eat! You whore!” He screams. I sit up straight and start picking away at my food, scared that he might break something on my head like the last time. He sits nearby, breathing heavily muttering angrily to himself.

I steal a glance at him. He looks at me and suddenly lunges at me to grab my hair. I whimper and cry out loud begging him to stop it. “You want me to stop, you witch? You want me to stop hurting you? You have ruined my life ever since your damn baby died! You should have died with it too! But no! You survived and made my life miserable!” I feel my face burning, “Don’t hit me again, or else I will kill you!”, I say through gritted teeth. He releases me and laughs at my face. “The mention of your bastard piece of crap makes you say this, do you realize?”. I do not know what came over me, I hurl myself at him but he ducks and smashes a glass on my shoulder. I scream in agony and I throw him on the floor. There is a loud crash and numbing silence. I start reeling and steady myself as I feel a piercing pain in my head. I fall to my knees and my eyes start closing.

I open my eyes. The room is brighter and I can feel the sunlight in every part of the room. I sit up and look around me. There are shards of glass all around me. I pull myself with the help of the dresser and look into the mirror staring at my reflection for a minute. I softly gather up my hair. My reflection stares back at me and I don’t like what I see. My imperfections stand out suddenly. The scar on my forehead, the hollow beneath my eyes. My face is almost pale and the only color is because of my reddish-bluish bruises. My eyes drift to the picture stuck between the ridges of the mirror and its frame.

A perfect face. My face is devoid of any worry, sparkling eyes and smile reaching from ear to ear. I trace my finger on it and look at my reflection again. I let out a soft sigh and pick up my Whiskey sour at the dresser table. I take a swig of it and squat down on the floor. I trace my finger along with his closed eyes and across his jawline till I reach his heart. The blood is pooled at his waist and head and I cannot feel his heartbeat. I smile softly, “I told you I’ll kill you if you hit me again. You really should have listened baby.”

“Hold me close and hold me fast,
The magic spell you cast,
This is la vie en rose,
When you kiss me heaven sighs,
And though I close my eyes,
I see la vie en rose” 

I get up and saunter out of the room humming my song as I walk into the kitchen. I like my Whiskey Sour more than ever today.

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