It Ends Tonight

[Tonyksin]

[Lorenzo Tavares Continued From Sweetest Lie]


The night was quiet. The only sounds he could hear were the rapid beating of his own heart and the labored breaths he took. He sat in his car, parked in an alley of the downtown area, a bottle of Grey Goose he’d ripped from his parent’s liquor cabinet his only companion. His car was off, the keys thrown haphazardly onto the passenger seat as he did his best to try and let the events of the night sink in. He looked over at the passenger seat of his car, the leather seat scrubbed raw with whatever cleaning materials he’d pilfered from his house. He just needed to remove any evidence. His eye twitched and he ripped the top off of the bottle, taking a large gulp of the liquid inside. It burned the whole way down to his stomach, but in a way that felt good. He wanted it to burn. If he thought it would work he’d have poured it all over himself just to let the last few hours burn out of his skin and memory.

But no, that unfortunately wasn't an option.

He coughed a bit as he swallowed the harsh liquid. Vodka was never his drink of choice, but beggars can’t be choosers, and he just needed something to make him forget for a bit. To help him think. Every time he closed his eyes the image of Artem laying there looking pathetic and defeated haunted his mind’s eye. He just wanted to make it stop. From the moment they left the parking lot to when he dropped him off at his home, the two said barely a word to each other, Artem just whispering out directions as best he could and Lorenzo answering in a variety of ‘mm-hmm’s and ‘got it’s. When the other boy got out of his car Lorenzo couldn’t even bring himself to look at his as he left, his eyes just stayed focused straight ahead.

Another gulp from the bottle.

Once the door slammed shut Lorenzo raced away from there as fast as he could. He wasn’t even thinking at that point, just letting his body run on autopilot as he made his way home. Before he knew it he was there, parked in his usual spot and staring at his house from across the street. The lights were off, thank god. None of them had stayed up to lie in wait for him and ask how the night had gone. Honestly, Lorenzo wouldn’t have been able to handle a game of twenty questions right now. Not after everything that had transpired. No, he just wanted to sneak in and avoid all contact with his family for as long as he could. He was afraid they’d be able to see it in his eyes if he had to face them.

Inside he went, and up to his room to peel off the tuxedo Kayla had slaved over for him he went. Piece by piece he removed the all of a sudden vile clothing. He didn’t even bother to hang it properly, just letting the dirty clothing fall from his body and stay where it landed on his bedroom floor. Part of his shirt had something crusted onto it; he shuddered at the sight and tossed it as far away from him as he could throw it. Naked, he looked over himself in the mirror in his room. Usually he was filled with pride when he looked himself over, but not tonight. Tonight all he felt was disgust as he looked himself over. The only thing looking back at him was a beast.

He felt a surge of anger well up inside of him but he held it in as best he could. What right did he have to be angry? What right did he have to do any of what he did? His breathing began to get more labored as he stared at himself, leaning his body weight against his hands on either side of the floor-length mirror. He stared into his own reflection with betrayal and anger in his eyes. All of a sudden it felt like he was back in the car again, hovering over Artem, waiting for him to say stop, begging him to tell him he didn’t want it. He bit down on his lip in frustration, and cracked the chapped skin open, letting a bit of blood spill out from the small wound. He flinched at the pain, but made no move to clean it, just watching in the mirror as the trail of blood made its way down his chin to drip down off his face and to the floor below.

Before he knew what he was doing he’d slipped on a pair of loose mesh shorts, and a sleeveless band tee, and shoved his feet into a old pair of converse. He grabbed his car keys and cigarettes and stormed out of his room, making his way to the kitchen first. He pulled a spray bottle of surface cleaner from under the sink and took a clean sponge from the pantry. He made sure to stop at his parent’s liquor cabinet on his way out the door, grabbing the first bottle he saw and escaping the confines of his house before anyone could see him or stop him. Outside he threw open the passenger door tossed the bottle into the front seat. He sprayed the cleaner on every surface he could of the seat, and knelt down on the ground to scrub at it with the sponge. He scrubbed and scrubbed, trying desperately to remove any trace that Artem had been there. To make it as if the night never happened. He felt the tears well up in his eyes as he scrubbed at the leather seat in earnest frustration, and allowed them to spill down his cheeks silently as he rubbed his own hands raw with the intensity of his scrubbing.

After about twenty minutes of this, he tossed the cleaner into his back seat and settled himself into the driver’s seat. The tears were still coming, but he knew he needed to leave. He moved the bottle to the passenger seat floor and peeled out of his parking space in a fury. He exited the community with a hurried panic, the need to escape kicking at his brain with such a force that his body was shaking from the sheer adrenaline.

And now he was here.

Another long swig from the bottle.

The taste was disgusting, but he didn’t care. By now he’d chugged through almost half of the liquid in the bottle. His mind was growing hazy and his stomach was starting to turn. Suddenly the confines of the car was too stifling and he had to be free. He swung open his door and fell out of the car unceremoniously, landing on his bare knee and scraping the flesh crimson. He paid it no mind and pulled himself up to a standing position. His mind was blurry with thoughts of sorrow and anger filling it to the brim.

Why hadn’t he seen the signs he should stop?

No… Why hadn't he listened to those signs?

Why did Artem just lay there and let it fucking happen?

WHY?!

Another burst of salty fluid came crashing down his cheeks and he walked a few feet from his car door, losing his footing a bit and falling into the nearby brick wall for support. This wasn't how his night was supposed to go. It was just supposed to be a fun time with a cute boy. It was just supposed to be a one-off thing he used to make Kayden a little jealous and to tell himself he still had it in him to be who he was. It wasn't supposed to hurt anyone. He grit his teeth and shut his eyes tightly and he let himself sob quietly as he leaned against the wall. His stomach hurt and he felt the bile and alcohol rising in his throat. He lurched forward and gripped his abdomen tightly with his left arm, leaning against the wall still with his right.

The sound of the splatter on the ground as he emptied the contents of his stomach was disgusting.

He was still breathing heavy, staring down at the puddle of vomit below him. The inside of his throat burned hot as the alcohol came back up. He dry heaved, and then felt another current release itself from his body. He coughed, trying to get the rest out, still feeling it worming its way through his esophagus. Another rush of bile and vodka came spilling out, the salty tears still covered his face as he stood alone in the alley. He let out a pained sob as he tried to collect himself. He wretched again, but this time nothing came from it. A few more dry heaves followed, shuddering through his body like a shock-wave. When it was over he lifted his shirt to wipe the mess on his face. He didn’t care.

He moved away from the pile of awful liquid he’d left on the ground and leaned himself on his hands against the bricks of the wall. His whole body felt disgusting. His mind was still foggy with images of the events of the night replaying in his head like some sick twisted highlight reel. He just wanted to made it stop. It wasn’t his fault. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Artem should have said no. He should have told him to stop. He should have tried to push him away or fucking something goddammit. Lorenzo’s hands balled into fists and he slammed his right fist down onto the brick wall in a sorrowful fury. It stung, but it was nothing compared to the pain his mind was making him feel. Over and over he brought his fists down upon the wall, screaming wildly into the empty night as he released all his rage into the bricks.

By the time he was finished the wall was streaked red from his bloodied knuckles. He looked down at his hands and trembled as he saw the damage. The blood was hot on his hands, pouring out slowly from the scraped and bruised flesh. Lorenzo attempted to swallow, but his mouth was so dry it felt like he would swallow his tongue. He stumbled back to the car and pulled out the bottle, throwing back his head for another long swig of the burning liquid. It would numb all the pain anyway.

He didn’t know what to do now.

How could he fix this?

How could he make it all go away?

He didn’t know the answer.

He just wanted to disappear forever.

For a moment, it almost seemed clear what to do. Maybe if he was gone it would all be better. Maybe then the images would stop clouding his mind, and the painful memories would stop digging into his skin like fangs. Maybe if he ended everything no one would miss him. Not after what he’d done. If they found out they’d all hate him. They’d abandon him in a heartbeat.

He didn’t want that. He was too afraid to go through life alone forever.

But if he ended it all now, none of them would get the chance to leave him behind. He’d steal it out from under them. Better to die loved than to live scorned. He shuddered and let out another painful sob, falling to a seated position against his car, drinking even more from the bottle. What would his parents say when they found out what kind of person he was? Would they still even claim him as their own? And his sisters? Would his little sisters still look up to him like they do? Would Marina and Alessia still think of him as their baby brother who they have to look out for and protect? No.

They should have been protecting other people from him all along.

Lorenzo let the bottle tumble from his grasp and clatter onto the pavement below, spilling out some of what was left. He looked down at the bottle, but made no move to retrieve it. What did it matter now? He didn’t care about anything. The tears stained his cheeks some more as he fumbled around with his pocket, pulling out his cell from its confines. He had a missed call. It was from his sister Marina. In his haze of emotions he called her back.

“Hello…” He said weakly, his voice cracking a bit as he spoke.

“Hello? Lorenzo where the hell did you go? I heard you come in then you raced the fuck out of here like a bat out of hell!”

“M-Marina… I…” He couldn’t get the words out. Instead a wretched sob spilled out.

“Lorenzo what’s wrong?! What happened?!” The concern in her voice only made him feel worse. He wasn’t someone she should care about. He wasn’t worth anything.

“I did something bad. I don’t know what to do.” His body shook with sobs as he sat there pathetic and defeated as he cried to his sister over the phone.

“Where are you? It’s okay, I’m gonna come get you okay?”

“Okay…” He sobbed.

“Just tell me where you are and I’ll be there, okay sweetie? It’s all going to be okay, I’ll be right there.”

“Please don’t hate me Marina… I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry…”

“Whatever it is we’ll figure it out okay? That’s what family does, right?” he could hear her voice crack a bit over the phone. She was getting upset and he felt terrible about it.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Marina Tavares glanced over at the sleeping figure in her passenger seat. Her brother was completely out of it now, thank goodness. By the time she’d arrived he was a sobbing mess covered in blood. He just kept apologizing and begging her not to hate him, never explicitly telling her what had happened or what he’d done that was so bad. It took her a long while to clean him up and wrap up his hands so the bleeding would stop. He was such a mess, and it scared her. She’d never seen her brother like this, not ever.

Marina sighed and reached over to pet his green curls gently. He always pretended to be so strong and independent, it was hard to know what was really going on in his life. She knew he had problems. She wasn’t as clueless as her parents. She saw that he didn’t have a lot of close friends. She knew he was being relatively promiscuous, and hey, that was perfectly fine. She had no right to judge him for it, nor would she, but she did worry about him. They were only two years apart, but she remembered the day he was born. She remembered holding him in her arms when she was a kid and singing songs to him to help him sleep.

She felt herself get a bit teary-eyed for a moment.

Whatever it was that had happened, it must have been truly awful for him to be this much of a mess over it. Even back when he stopped being friends with his best friend out of nowhere, he didn’t seem fazed by it. She knew he was keeping everything inside, and she gave him his space where he wanted it. But…

She just wished she knew how to help him right now.

She wiped the loose tear that began to trail down her cheek away quickly and concentrated on getting him home.

Maybe they’d talk about it when he felt better. If anything, she had to make sure he knew she would always be there for him no matter what happened or what he did.

Nothing would ever make her stop loving him.


[Lorenzo Tavares Continued on DC Trip]