( Completed Short Story - Maybe Content Warning-? )

        Why does a man drink? Doesn’t he understand how the liquor may cloak his problems today, but bring them from the daze come tomorrow? I ask myself this every time a bartender sets another refill of Johnny Walker in front of me.  

        Carefully my hands wrapped themselves around the glass as if touching a newborn babe. Lost in thoughts content on brooding alone in my lingering grief. Though grief for whom? I vowed to never take a drink again, and here I am.

        “How many glasses does this make?” I lifted the topped off glass up to rest my elbow along the bar.

        The pretty little bartender paused in her washing the counter to look up to me, “Oh honey, I stopped caring to count after your fourth.”

        Solemnly I nodded breathing out, “Of course you wouldn’t care, not that I’m requiring you to. No need to wonder about my story in this one short life I have hardly lived.”

        “You’re a young fella, what are you, twenty-three at most?” Her accented voice gave little concern, though her eyes reflected curiosity.

        “Twenty-four actually. I haven’t had a drink like this since I was… oh, how old was I? Heck I don’t even remember the night, only the massive hangover the next day. I think it was Senior year of high school? Yeah that was it, I was nineteen.”

        “What made you come drink tonight handsome? This night of all nights.” She leaned down against the bar, elbows perched along the counter her words a tauntingly slow whisper.

        “Reasons,” I replied simply lifting the glass to my lips feeling the liquor seep its way over my tongue.

        With a simple nod she pulled herself off the bar taking back up her water-logged rag. Her interest in me now lost as I had killed her curiosity, which was fine by me, I did not long for a woman’s attention. Not now, not tonight. I wanted to be alone. I had a date, his name was Johnny Walker, and I intended to show him the best of time.

        I rested the now half filled glass upon the cool wooden counter taking a moment to look around. Johnny Walker seemed least important now as my eyes caught sight of a woman, perhaps of the age twenty-one, drinking at the far end of the bar cloaked in the shadows. Her appeared to be thin body was wrapped in a scarlet red cocktail dress. The color of the fabric alone only yearned for an eyes attention.

        Her blonde ringlet curls hung, helping the darkness match her face. Why did this woman seem familiar to me? Looking back to the bartender I cleared my throat to get her attention.

        “You don’t need a refill. What is it you want?” she asked her tone annoyed.

        I pulled out my wallet tossing a ten dollar bill lazily on the counter, “I want to buy that red dressed blonde a drink.”

        The bartender took the bill in her hands, eyes overlooking the nearly empty bar. “What-What girl are you referring to?”

        “That pretty one over there.” I nodded my head towards the left end of the bar not daring to look, afraid the girl  was looking my way.

        The bartenders eyes darted towards the left end of the bar before shaking her head, “Sir, there is no blonde over there.”

        “What are you talking about of course there is-” I cut myself off not see her figure on the barstool any longer. “She was just there.…”

        “Perhaps, sir, you have had enough to drink for tonight. Just starting drinking and all….” She slid the money back across the counter not wanting to claim it, going back to her original work.

        “Where did she go?” I mumbled to myself, feeling dazed by how she could escape without a single sound.

        “Looking for me handsome?” a voice softly spoke from my right.

        I snapped my head over to her direction, there she was, I did know her… sort of. A girl from my past high school. “Stacey, isn’t it?”

        “It’s Rebekah.” Her words seemed forcibly sweet as she reached her hand out to pull my glass from my hand taking a sip keeping it in her grip. “Funny I run into you on my one night back in town.”

        A frown formed on my lips as she stole away my glass, “I didn’t even know you had moved.”

Rebekah laughed harshly, her words hostile, “Of course you didn’t.”

        “I’m sorry, I ah, I never really knew you that well. I mean, I remember seeing you in the halls between classes.” I gave a small shrug in response not knowing what to really say. My interest I had had in her slowly withdrew every second more her eyes glared.

        “I’m moving back to town, thought I’d dress-up for an evening out. I expect I’ll be seeing more of you, Lukcus.”

        My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “You seem quite certain there.”

        “Oh, I am pretty boy.” She set the glass down, her body leaned against the counter delicately.

        I took back my drink into my grasp not wanting to lose Johnny to another person's lips bringing it up to my own.

        “You have a son.” Rebekah spoke out.

        The amount of liquor I swallowed burned my nose as I choked down the liquid.

        “So you don’t remember do you?” Her arms reached out over the counters edge to collect a large fresh bottle, “You’re a no good, two-faced, lying son of a-” the shattering glass overcame the last of her words as the bottle was broken upon my head. The cold liquid drenching my clothes, as it left my soaked drunken body slump out of the chair and onto the wooden floor entering darkness.

        It is odd to pass out…. One can have the strangest dreams that seem to last like a movie. Only this wasn’t just a dream it was a long forgotten memory. A memory I tried to drink away so many times I spent a summer in rehab.

        I don't remember that night like I should. I could remember the screams of the girls and red solo cups that started to form in a pile next to me. It became shot after shot, the beer games seemed to never end. Then, with every new person that arrived, another case of liquor was passed out to the crowd.

        My mind started to become increasingly cloudy, my limbs felt incredibly heavy. What was happening, moreover what was I doing? I kept asking myself.

         I don't even recall leaving the party, but I remember the cold air that barely kept my brain functional. The street lights casted dark shadows and the rain fell lightly. I stumbled aimlessly, I wasn't in my right mind… where was I?

        Someone touched my arm lightly who appeared from nowhere. I think she was asking if I was all right, yet her words were not registering. It all happened so fast and I couldn't control what I was about to do.

        I pushed her hard against the wall and let my lips forcefully meet hers. She fought against me though I was stronger, I held her in place while my free hand traveled down the length of her body. Her pleads for me to stop only sounded like the cheerleaders from the party who urged me on.

        My loose hand pulled at her shirt. My lips never left her skin, while traveling down the side of her neck. The screams that escaped her were answered with utter silence. She was left at the mercy of me, and in the hold of power I regrettably showed none.

        Skin upon skin made contact. My breaths came out in shallow gasps as I took from her what no man should ever do. It only lasted minutes, before I pulled away and breathed heavily still dazed in my drunken state. I fixed my jeans and adjusted my sweatshirt as I ignored her sobs. She slid down the wall sinking to the pavement, hands covering her face.

        You would think I would remember what I had done… to show some sort of regret, though my expression was blank. My vision was even blurrier than before, and I don't remember a single bloody thing- now come five-years later I find that I now have a son.