Lost In The Bottle

Ashley walked through her front door, bolting it shut behind her before she strolled into the adjacent kitchen. Her keys met the counter with a soft clank, and instinctively the brunette began searching through cupboards. She emerged with a bottle of vodka, whose contents she emptied into a tall glass. The girl’s lucid eyes reflected little to no emotion as she brought the glass to her lips and silently tipped it backwards. The first sip burned as it traveled down her throat, but her senses soon became indifferent to the sensation.

It had been like this ever since Spencer left. It was peculiar that the very habit that had driven Spencer away would be the one she’d fall back on as her new companion, but that’s the way it worked. It happened like this: Ashley would get obscenely drunk, to the point of absolute oblivion, whereupon she’d sink into a place so dark it was a wonder she ever managed to find her way out, and then she’d drunk dial.

Mostly she’d call Spencer, beg her to come back, and promise that she’d change. It worked the first few times. The blonde would show up, and nurse her with the kind of tender care only Spencer could provide. She’d cry and cry, begging Ashley to stop, telling the brunette she was killing herself. But after a while, Spencer realized Ashley wasn’t going to stop, and eventually Ashley’s late night calls were ignored.

Ashley drained the last contents of the glass, the warm feeling consuming her entire body, giving the world a soft glow. But this peace was short lived, quickly interrupted by a fierce and familiar hunger for more. More, more, more. Ashley sauntered back into the kitchen, clutching the bottle and bringing it to her mouth, no longer finding a need for the glass. Not much time had passed before that bottle was drained and she was steadily edging towards oblivion. It was at this point she lifted up the phone and dialed Spencer’s number, hitting the machine as usual.

“Look Spence, I know most of what I’ve done shouldn’t be forgiven… But I…” Ashley paused, having to steady herself on the counter. Her words were slurred and she had to struggle to compose her thoughts. “I uh… I know I won’t be forgiven and I’m not going to ask. My amends will be my death I guess… No one I’ve hurt will ever have to hear me, think about me, or see me again. I won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore. Just please forget me if you can, Spence… Forget I’ve done what I’ve done. Forget I was ever born. Even though it’s impossible, please forget me.”