Marco

The whiskey burned going down, but I welcomed it. Hell, I needed it. The more it stung, the better. I needed it to hurt. I needed something to remind me I was still breathing.

I wanted to drown myself and mute the raging voices in my head. I didn’t want to think anymore. I was tired of thinking. I had done too much of that, and I was going nowhere with it.

I was buried underneath beautiful, scantily clad women, and yet I could not see them. The two women lounging on either side of me smelled like expensive perfume.

They were pretty, dark-haired, and by far my favorite...