Since it's christmas time, most people will probably spend it with friends and family. Christmas lights are blinking everywhere, but Chase's flat is dark. He has no christmas lights, no nothing. Just his alcohol, his dark thoughts and a christmas tree he bought for the kids.
He had started talking with Stacey about with whom the kinds should celebrate christmas. Chase just wanted to see them again. But no. He argued and argued, promising Stacey that he wouldn't drink if the kids were hear. But she refused. "You are not capable of taking care of them", she said, "you just can't see that you are a terrible father."
But he bought a christmas tree. Just for his two kids. He even had stockings for them, and he bought gifts. Everything was a blur, memories distorted from drinking too much. But that, he remembered. Buying gifts. Chase was so proud, he even remembered that his daughters favourite colour is yellow and that his son loves dogs. He saw the cutest stuffed animal in a show, a puppy. It was perfect for his little boy. Also, a book for his daughter, with a yellow cover. He tried so hard to make it perfect, so hard. He had everything wrapped neatly, he tried to do it as well as possible. Chase wasn't able to buy many presents or the prettiest tree since he had very little money, but he would have made it special regardless of that. He knew it would have been wonderful. His kids would have had a great time, because it was their christmas, full of happiness and love.
He still drank, of course he did. But Chase was pretty sure that it was less that normally. Everything would have been great. He had been so carefully planned this Christmas since the beginning of November, put so much love into it, and it's everything he looked forward to.
But he couldn't have just one thing that would make him happy, could he?
Stacey informed Chase that the kids would be celebrating with her, and trying to convince her otherwise was like talking against a wall.
So there he is. In the dark. Alone. The Christmas tree is already in is living room, the gifts wrapped and hidden away. Pointless. Why did he even try? It's not like he couldn't see this coming. It was always the same.
Chase's hands are gripping the whiskey bottle tightly, the liquid running down his throat and warming his stomach. It doesn't even taste well, but he eventually got used to that taste of the cheapest alcohol. It's the only alcohol he can afford, considering his consumption. His fingertips are probably white from gripping so tightly, leaving fingerprints all over the bottle. But he just can't let go. He needs to forget this. To turn off his mind somehow.
Maybe that's why Stacey won't let the kids spend christmas with their dad, because he has sunken so low as to get absolutely wasted alone in his bedroom. Chase's thoughts are slow and twisted, nothing makes quite sense, but what he knows is that it had been a waste. By the time the kids would get a weekend with him, the tree would have lost even the last few needles that still stick to it now. He still could give them the presents, because santa delivered some to his flat, but it won't be the same. And he knows it. You can recognise it in the way he hastily drinks straight from the bottle, the way he blinks fast to hold back the tears, the way his hands shake.
What he also knows it that christmas will be catastrophic this year. He knows that he will be alone, that his kids will probably have a great time with Stacey and that they won't ask for daddy because they learned from their mom that their daddy isn't a very good person and that mommy wants to keep them safe from him, and he knows that he will lose count of the bottles again. He will drink until there are no thoughts left and he ends up hanging over the toilet for the rest of the next day. He will also not learn from this, because this is the only escape he has, at least that what his mind keeps telling him.
They are better off without him in his dirty, like alcohol and vomit smelling flat and his poorly decorated tree with the few present from cheap stores anyway. More pointless and wasted hope that he had.
The empty bottle slides out of his hand and makes a clanking sound as it hits another empty bottle on the floor. And as the bottle falls, so does the temporary wall that was meant to lock his emotions away.
This is actually the first time in forever I have written something, so this is a little all over the place, sorry! I really really hope that some of you like this or even read it at all! @septicart-appreciation (I hope you don't mind me tagging you)
