Post by GUILLERMO SALAS-ORTIZ on Mar 13, 2011 15:16:55 GMT -5
In his drunken stupor, he frowned at Rose's icy stare.
"Oh. I see. Well... I see my Father is in good company."
His heart sank as her words began to sink in. Her wounded face swam before his eyes.
She began to walk away.
He scoffed weakly.
"Fine. I don-don't need you!" He said, his voice cracking from the burning in his eyes and throat.
Brown eyes filled with salt water as she stopped to look back at him from the door.
"Hey Guillermo... Have a nice hangover, Asshole."
Her face was filled with pain, accusation and something else.
She slammed the door shut.
Guillermo stood for a moment, unable to move.
"Rose."
Then he fell.
As he slunk to the floor, he let out a sob. Curling up into a ball on the linoleum, he shook, gasping tears ripping at his chest.
He had nothing.
His mother was gone.
His father was gone.
His sister was gone.
And now Rose.
The most perfect thing in his life walked out the door with a glare of disgust.
He heaved himself up on the counter, fumbling around for a moment.
Guillermo lifted the object to his face.
He stared at his reflection in the knife.
His eyes were frightened and bloodshot.
He chucked the knife to the opposite wall with a yell of anger and sadness. It stuck there, embedded in the drywall.
Crossing into the living room, Guillermo collapsed onto the couch, sobbing.
Rose.
She hated him.
This sudden realization hit him like a semi-truck.
His heart broke, and he wrapped his arms around his head and chest protectively, his tears pattering onto the carpet.
"I love her."
Then he fell into an uneasy sleep.
"Oh. I see. Well... I see my Father is in good company."
His heart sank as her words began to sink in. Her wounded face swam before his eyes.
She began to walk away.
He scoffed weakly.
"Fine. I don-don't need you!" He said, his voice cracking from the burning in his eyes and throat.
Brown eyes filled with salt water as she stopped to look back at him from the door.
"Hey Guillermo... Have a nice hangover, Asshole."
Her face was filled with pain, accusation and something else.
She slammed the door shut.
Guillermo stood for a moment, unable to move.
"Rose."
Then he fell.
As he slunk to the floor, he let out a sob. Curling up into a ball on the linoleum, he shook, gasping tears ripping at his chest.
He had nothing.
His mother was gone.
His father was gone.
His sister was gone.
And now Rose.
The most perfect thing in his life walked out the door with a glare of disgust.
He heaved himself up on the counter, fumbling around for a moment.
Guillermo lifted the object to his face.
He stared at his reflection in the knife.
His eyes were frightened and bloodshot.
He chucked the knife to the opposite wall with a yell of anger and sadness. It stuck there, embedded in the drywall.
Crossing into the living room, Guillermo collapsed onto the couch, sobbing.
Rose.
She hated him.
This sudden realization hit him like a semi-truck.
His heart broke, and he wrapped his arms around his head and chest protectively, his tears pattering onto the carpet.
"I love her."
Then he fell into an uneasy sleep.
