Party 'til you pass out / When the party's over

Oliver

I woke up in an empty house with a throbbing headache, a reminder of the previous night full of drugs and self-destruction. The only sound was the soft ticking of the rain against the windows. Outside it was gray and gloomy, just like my mood.

I felt nothing. No sadness, no anger, no regret. Just an emptiness that consumed everything. I tried to get up from the couch, but my body felt heavy and tired. It took effort to drag myself to the kitchen for a glass of water. I had to push myself to drink the lot of it, because I could barely get something through my throat. My stomach got already upset at the thought of food, and I had lost weight in the past weeks. I felt so miserable since she left.

Whenever I walked through the house, every detail reminded me of Alison. Her laugh, her scent, the way she whispered my name in the dead of night when I made love to her. Everything was tainted by her absence. I hadn't had the courage yet to get rid of her things, and why would I? Maybe if I didn't, I could manifest her coming back to me.

The ever lingering silence in the house was heavy on me, and I felt an anxiety attack claw its way up in my body. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down as I sank back on the couch. But doing so immediately reminded me of that night in Las Vegas over a month ago, and the total mess that was the fall down after that bomb had dropped. My eyes shot wide open again, my heart throbbing in my chest and my breathing hitching.

There were a lot of things I wish I would have done differently in my life, but if I could go back in time and change only one thing, it would be this. Because none of the other things had fucked me up more than my mistake of getting it on with another woman than my own wife. And why? I had no idea. I hardly remembered anything from that night, only that Alison and I'd had a fight over the phone - she hadn't been able to come on tour with us because of a few big commissions she had from magazines and clients. Her photography business had grown a lot in the past years, partially because she gained a name as photographer in the music scene. Working for Drop Dead and being our go-to photographer as a band had helped her get a career going, which she now reaped the benefits of.

It was the first time ever she hadn't come on tour with us - I had missed her terribly, but she seemed to have fun with what she was doing. Maybe a little too much fun.

I knew I had been out of line, and I had no reason to think that way. But knowing she was with Of Mice And Men for a few nights since they toured the UK, and seeing the happy photos of her and the guys - particularly Austin - made me see green of jealousy and insecurity after a night of drinking in the hotel bar. No matter how often I tried to tell myself that Austin was just her friend, that he had a girlfriend himself, I couldn't stop thinking about their one-night stand on Warped a few years ago. Why would that not happen again? Their bond was similar to the bond she had with Tom, and he had been in love with her too.

I had wanted to escape the vicious cycle of pain and insecurity, but every time I tried, I was pulled back into the dark depths of my consciousness. And to get rid of that heavy feeling, I fell back to the only way of coping I knew. Ketamine. It had been the first time since my time in rehab again, and my memory of that night was quite blank after that. I had nearly forgotten about it until that fucking video had popped up.

Using ketamine last time it had nearly cost me everything, but this time I felt like I had paid with my life; Alison was gone because of me, and nothing would ever bring her back again. Not this time. And in that realization lay the true definition of loneliness. Even the rainy weather seemed to mourn with me. The hills that surrounded the house were hidden in the grey haze of the rain, the same steel grey that I loved so dearly because of her captivating eye colour.