One bloody christmas

He smiled as the last of his friends waved good bye. The night was finally over. He felt a tinge of sadness but a huge sense of relief. It had gone well. He had survived the night. Nothing went wrong this time and he hadn't made a fool of himself.

He closed his eyes and saw her smiling. It was the same smile he knew 10 years ago. 'Time has passed.' He thought to himself. 'We're not the same people anymore.' Sighing, he reach for a drink, pouring himself a large shot of gin.

He had felt the distance between him and his friends tonight. The span of four years had passed since he had fallen sick. Since his illness, he had kept mostly to himself, allowing himself only the pleasure of seeing them every Christmas.

He felt a pang in his heart. A sudden panic. 'They're growing further and further apart. I'll lose them at this rate.'

You have me.

Quietly he drank deeply. Taking his fill and letting the alcohol work its magic on him.

'Finally I can relax and be myself.'

'I'm not the joker. I'm not the light of the party. I'm not anything. Just a washed out drunk thats about to hit thirty.' he reached for the glass and poured another shot.

She had looked wonderful tonight. He smiled slightly to himself. Her brown eyes were gentle as always. But there was something different about her tonight. A glow about her. A presence of iron will. He couldn't place his finger on it.

We are special you and I. Different from the rest.

He had asked her how it felt to be living their dream. Being a lawyer. Their dreams. It felt like another lifetime. They had both wanted to be lawyers. He had seen himself in the smart suit, the ugly wig and an aura of invincibility in the court with his confidence and intelligence.

He laughed bitterly. 'I hate crowds. I'm uncomfortable even with my own friends now. Let alone strangers. Some lawyer I would make now.'

We don't need them. We have each other.

'My own friends.'

'I can barely reach them now. When we talk. Theres some kind of barrier. Something between us.'

'Time for medicine.' He thought bitterly.

Don't take it. You know you don't want to.

He would be as sick as a dog tommorow. 'Medication and alcohol don't mix,' his doctor had warned him many times. Cursing softly he took the tablets and downed them with another shot of gin.

'Here's to amazing health,' he said deep with irony.

We are fine, you and I. If you would just stop fighting it.

She had been serious when she talked about her work. Explaining things patiently; as if to a child. Quipping little details that he listened to her intently.

'Thats it. Thats the difference between us.'

'She's grown up.'

You are better than she is. I know this.

'I have been sick,' he said outloud; hating himself even as the excuse poured from his lips. Frustrated now. He flung the bottle against the wall. Listening to it shatter.

He picked up the piece of the broken glass.

'Like my dreams,' he thought.

Together we will make our own dreams.

'I don't want to listen to you. Go away.' he half pleaded.

We are one you and I. There is nothing you can do to change that.

'I am better now.'

Better because you have been listening to me...

'Shut up. I don't want to hear it. Shut the hell up.'

'I love her. She's always kept me safe. When I needed help. She was always there.'

She is a stranger now. You don't know her. But I know you.

He reached for his hand phone. Desparately dialing the number. Then he hung up.

'She can't know I'm sick. She can't.'

It would mean nothing to her.

He saw red then. A felt that familiar ringing in his ears. He knew it would come soon. He would fade into the background. An HE would take over again.

'No. I am fine now.'

Relax. It only hurts for a little while.

He screamed.

'I have been sick... I have been sick...' he wailed helplessly.

Blood dripped from his left arm. Covered with a dozen deep cuts. His right hand was gripping several shard of broken glass vehemently.

It only hurts for a while. Rest now. I will take care of you. I promise.

'I'm not sick anymore. I'm not sick...'

Blood began to pour from his wrist.

'I will get better. And you'll be gone.' he cried hugging his feet in the fetal position.

We are one you and I. Rest now. I'll take care of the rest.

When he came to. He awoke to a room smashed and battered meticulously. His white shirt was stained blood red.

'I have been sick.' he thought. Then passed out into oblivion.