Her heels dug into my back and we slammed up against the wall, groaning in pain my teeth leaving marks along her tilted back neck. Ignoring bright red lipstick stains on my white shirt collar, “Fuck the pain away honey”, she moaned and sighed back and forth spilling our wine in heart shaped stains onto the carpet floor.
I’ve an absent mind at times like these, awake on my couch staring into empty spaces between poster ties on the wall. There’s a constant thud coming from the floor beneath me, groans and sighs from that chick I know just has to be an escort girl. She winks at me when we walk past eachother in the hallway, for god’s sake give me a fucking business card already.
It’s a dirty business, I’m constantly holding back bourbon stains on my teeth, trying to flick broken ashes from hot cigarettes over my balcony.
These late nights come by so fast, I forgot how it even happened, smashing a shot glass down with the palm of my hand, I managed to shatter pieces of broken glass into a clenched fist. Even the drunkeness couldn’t hold back this pain. “FUCK”, I screamed, waking the tenants around me for sure.
My tears were echoed by the sound of a door slamming, and footsteps running up the stairs. There’s a silent tap on my door and soft voice that hesitantly asks, “are.. are you okay?”. By this time I had taken off my shirt, and wrapped it around my bloody hand, I was oblivious to the wreaking scent of pot in the apartment or that I had a lit joint pressed firmly between my lips.
If I… If I sit here in silence, maybe she will go away. No, there it is again, a silent tapping on the door. I picked myself up, and opened it with a crack of light shining from the hallway into my dark room, “I”m quite alright”.
“It’s just, I heard.. I heard screaming”, mmm her voice is soft in the cold air.
“I cut my hand is all”, my bearded faced rubbing against the door, a sweet scent melting through from the other side.
She pushed back against the door, and in a drunken mess I fell back, “You’re bleeding!”, her exclamations held back by delicate lips. She dropped to her knees over me, I stared past her long curly brunette hair into the shadows of the ceiling fan.
What a terrible mess these girls are, when they can’t take care of themselves, they have a constant desire to care for others like hurt animals. She sat herself down beside me, apparently wrapped up in vodka herself, “I’m Lola”.
I closed my eyes tightly, “Welcome to my apartment Lola, make yourself… at home”, I lay on the ground , put my bloody fist over my heart and grinned.
No, these nights are a mess, a bloody mess. Is that how it happened? I’m finding it hard to remember now, did I mess up the ending?