Alcoholic Veins

Would you ever think after one bar fight, Brooklyn might find the boy to take the liquor out of her hands, and show her what love was again?


39. 38

Brooklyn's POV:


"Fuck, Bella. Unplug the clock. Its annoying."
Everything was quiet- too quiet.
"Bella?" My voice was weary and I was still tired from the night before. The two of us had been up for hours talking, and the more we had said the more confused the two of us grew.

My arm peeked out of the sheet and smacked the alarm clock off of the dresser, pulling the plug out of the wall. It came crashing down and made me jump, even though I had known the entire time it was coming.

Thoughts bulleted in my brain, ricocheting, creative side to practical side, lustful half to hateful half. Could I get anymore sleep? Yeah right.

I tried my right side. Kept seeing images of the rehabilitation center.
Tried my left side. Flashed on my stays with Liam. Pin clean, pretty hues, a ballet of sunshine radiating through the windows, pillow-top mattress to die for.

I threw back the sheet, went to the window and met face-to-face with a dark curtain hung draped over the window.

Stumbling through the kitchen, I located the coffee maker. The drip technique nobody dared to use any more was my last resort- the slow coffee pot never seeming to fill up.

Passed the living room, I headed for the bathroom. Considering my growling stomach, the thought of food made me want to heave. I could have settled for a beer. That would have went down fine.

I needed nothing more than sleep, food, but the monster inside of me denied every bit of it. A dozen needs attacked me. I needed food, fluid, soap, shampoo.
I needed Liam, his heart, his promises, his tomorrows. And all that made me really really need; liquor.
I ran for the living room, playing couch potato was all I could ask for- and more.

I couldn't live like this anymore, nobody could. I pulled out my phone to text Liam, but my thoughts were interrupted with the ding of the coffee maker.

With sunken eyes and dark purple circles underneath the blue haze that I had grown to know as my own eyes, I chugged the first mug of plain black coffee; bitter to the tongue and jolting for the heart and fuzzy, sleepy mind.

I was not the Brooklyn I had seen in the mirror every day. I didn’t pay attention anymore, couldn’t sit upright in a chair, was slumping whilst only propped over my kitchen counter by my shaking elbows, next to my empty mug of coffee.

I felt like a little kid, sad and left with the addiction of things like poison. An addiction to alcohol while forced go remain sober that was slowly wearing me down again.

There was a knock at the door that threw me off guard. Feet shuffled against the cold floor that sounded like an old guy.

"Why are you here Liam?"
"I have an idea."
"Spit it out."
"Lets not go to BVI. Lets go to see your family."
"I don't have any family. They left."
"No, Brooklyn. We're going tomorrow to see your mum and sisters with Bella and Harry. "

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