Bottle hanging from between two fingers, swinging, she curled her face weeping. Blood ‎filled her veins, tainting her complexion with dreadful red. ‎
‎“You’re sick!” She screamed, her voice cracking from the soreness in her throat. “You ‎did that to me!”‎
His hands quivered, tapping the wood in the dim light in a failed attempt to find his keys. ‎He had kept his eyes staring away throughout. ‎
‎“Look at me!” ‎
‎“Where is the key?” He whispered at her. ‎
‎“Run away! Just run away, you ****!”‎
She shoved him into the wall; he frowned attempting not to fight back. “Run away! ‎Leave! I DON’T want to see you ever again. I HATE you! I hate you! I hate you!” She ‎repeated the words like a mantra. ‎
Still, he kept his eyes focused on the dining table. So, she stepped into his view, his eyes ‎snapping the other way. Rage rocketed, she smashed the bottle with all her mighty, then ‎used her empty hands to hold his face to her direction. ‎
He lowered his gaze, “Stop it.” ‎
‎“Look at me!”‎
Swallowing, he peeked at her, eyes rickety. The mascara had soiled her face, fish eyes ‎looking even deader. Her face was drenched in sweat, hairs sticking to her forehead. ‎‎“You better remember how I look now, because it’s your fault. I hope you choke on your ‎guilt.”‎
He pushed her out of the door’s way, dashing towards. Now, he couldn’t breathe. He was ‎actually choking. He gasped for air, stumbling down the stairs. He hadn’t found the car ‎keys, so he could only run. ‎
It wasn’t until he had run a whole mile, before he slowed down. His heart ached, and a ‎stabbing sensation echoed in his side. His throat was dry and his lungs were heaving in ‎painful chunks of air. ‎
‎“Oh God,” he murmured. ‎
Beaten up, he sat on the bench. Sticky paint dyed his hands, but he couldn’t care. He kept ‎sitting. It was dark, and couples were starting to get more intimate on the benches around ‎him. ‎
Gulping again, he sneaked peeks at the giggling couple near him. Finally, he smiled. ‎Envy had its share in his heart; it was a smile even though. ‎
They noticed him. He looked away. When he glanced back, and they were strolling away. ‎As they faded into the darkness, he realized; some things he wanted, he could never have ‎if he kept driving down the same road. ‎
‎“How can I help you, sir?” The receptionist asked as the young man walked into the ‎motel. ‎
‎“I need a room,” he slid his credit card across the desk. The man gave him a forum to fill ‎in return. ‎
Receiving the form, the receptionist grinned, “Good night, sir.”‎
The young man took a few steps towards the elevator before turning back, “Do you know ‎if there are any apartments for rent in the building complex at the end of the street?” ‎
‎“I am not sure, but I can give you the realtor’s contacts.”‎
‎“Thank you.”‎
The next morning, he bought fold up boxes on his way home. He had even saved the ‎movers number on his phone. He was ready, so he took in a breath, and knocked on the ‎door. No answer. He knocked again. No answer. So he hammered his hands agaist the ‎door. Nothing. ‎
‎“Mom, open the door!” ‎
Nothing. ‎
‎“Mom, open the door! I’m not going to let you **** up my life anymore!” He growled ‎kicking.‎
‎“Sweetie.” ‎
He turned around to see his old neighbor, all wrinkly. She was paler than usual. He ‎blinked, heart racing. ‎
‎“I am so sorry…” She whispered, patting his shoulder. “I tried calling you last night, but ‎you weren’t answering.”‎
He buried his face into his hands, banging the back of his head against the wooden door. ‎
‎“S-she… They said she slipped. Sorry.”‎