The say tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Those who say this clearly never lost, were clearly never betrayed but then, I have to agree with them on one count though – tis better to have loved and lost.

As I look at her picture, the flashes of memories tug at my heart and I  can feel the love that I once felt slowly stew and burn and turn into rage and bitter bitter revenge.. It has been a very slow process and it has been months, but there was a lot of love to turn into bitter rage.

I could still taste the bile in my mouth – I don’t know how Acacius manages to keep drinking that stuff as it was water. I’ve thrown up more of that stuff today that he drinks in an hour. It actually tastes worse coming back up than it does going down and that is quite a feat.

I lie back and look up at the all too familiar ceiling and I have stared at each of those specks of dirt, those marks for so many hours, trying to figure out what the hell happened. How did I miss it? How can she have betrayed me so?

I turn over and reach across to the pack of cigarettes lying about – its easy to spot it cos its bright red.

The only thing separating me from those smokes were these empty bottles of various types and brands of alcohol vibrating gently from the loud reverberating music – if you can call it that. It just screams and beats away, tugging at my heart strings – if I still have a heart that is – a debate I’ll leave to other people to discuss and decide, for I simply care not, not in the slightest.

As I knock those bottles out of the way, I wonder how I managed to go through so much in just the last couple of days. Fuck, this is an empty pack, oh it’s ok, there’s another pack, also empty. I crumple them up and throw them into the corner of the room, atop the pile of crumpled up empty cigarette packets.

Ah, here’s a pack – it only has a few left, but I only need one…

I take one out, and barely drape it over my lips… The lighter, where the hell did I put the lighter – I pat myself down and notice I had left one in my trouser pocket. There benefits to having a number of lighters scattered all over the place, I think to myself.

I take it out and light the cigarette. As I take a deep draw from the cigarette, I feel like the smoke penetrates not just my poor little lungs struggling to keep oxygen circulated around my body, but it is draping a huge smog around my brain.

As I breathe out, I feel free, but only for a moment. My mind is clear, and all is well with the world. but only for a moment. Before I  can put the cigarette back on my lips, the door bleeps at me.

I knew this was inevitable. I wouldn’t get to sulk down here forever. I’m surprised it took them this long, but hey ho, I guess it’s time. I contemplate dragging myself up when the door beeps again. I giggle to myself.. wimps – if only they had balls, they would have been more insistent. They should have come in here weeks ago and dragged me out. Just can’t get good people these days.

I  manage to get myself on to a chair and door bleeps again. I wonder if I should sit here for a few minutes and test them – will they keep beeping? will they just come in? or will they give up and go away?

“Sir!”, I hear through the door, the voice trembling ever so slightly.. Poor lad – he’s trying atleast… I realise there is another way to make this fun, so I stand myself up, walk across to the door and just before he is about to put the button again, I open the door and scream “What?”

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin. I giggled in my head. The look of fear on his face was so precious, so adorable. The track changed and it felt like my heart was ripped out of for it brought a flashback with vivid details and the searing pain of it being ripped away. I wondered why I put that fucking thing on random going through all the tracks. That’s just suicide and then I remembered – that’s exactly why.

I didn’t realise this boy could be any more scared when I noticed that he was – he was truly terrified – petrified. I realised that my facial expression must have changed markedly when the track changed.

“What is it boy?” I howled. Trembling, he reaches into his pocket and hands me an envelope.

As I open the envelope, the tracks softly notes:

“Oh her eyes, her eyes
Make the stars look like they’re not shining”

In the envelope, there is a small folded piece of paper. I unfold it and it simply says.

“We found it!”

The next thing I notice is the track screaming:
“When I see your face
There’s not a thing that I would change
Cause you’re amazing
Just the way you are”