Post by Aimee Kensington on Aug 31, 2006 8:49:35 GMT -5
Aimee had run from the hospital as if the devil was chasing her and in a way, it was. Behind her she left the secret broken in two on the lab floor, finally exposed to the eyes of her best friend in a play out that hadn’t reflected on her in an entirely flattering light. Behind her she had left Sean, Carrie and the looks they had given her, both of hurt, both of confusion, both of things she simply couldn’t deal with right now. Aimee had always chosen to live the fast life, running through each moment, each day like something was right on her heels, running so fast it was questionable. But she never truly out ran what she was chasing in the first place. After all how could you run from yourself and all the mistakes that made you what you were?
In a blink of an eye everything that she had grown attached to, everything she knew was pulled to pieces. There were no fingers to point at other people; this had been her own doing. Hers and Sean’s and with their choice there had to be consequences, Aimee had always known that, really. However, she’d been so caught up in everything, his eyes, his hands, his smell that she simply had forgotten the band of gold on his important finger. How could a person forget a wedding ring? How could a person forget that the man they were kissing was married, was a man that went home and slept in the same bed with another woman every night? By choice. Their relationship had been physical, spoken for almost a month but the sexual tension between them had existed long before they downfalls. The worst part out of all of this though wasn’t the fact that she was hurting people left right and centre and it wasn’t the fact that she had lied so much to everyone and herself that she had gotten lost somewhere along the way. The worst part of all of this wasn’t that they had been found out, in truth that had made things slightly easier of a more complicated situation. The worst part of all of this was that despite all the looks of heartbreak and disappointment, she still loved him, felt something for him. And honestly, she didn’t regret it.
That was the part that had driven her from the hospital. The looks had been her fuel, the people her excuse but the truth behind it all was he fact that she didn’t regret her feelings. Sure, she regretted hurting everyone; sure she regretted the way things were unfolding and sure she’d probably regret tonight when she woke tomorrow. But she didn’t regret him, which only made her want to scream, and run.
Her mind had been a complete and utter mess as she had walked down the end of the corridor, the opposite way to Carrie, taking the stairs when she took the elevator. Aimee hadn’t wanted to see a replay of that completely shattered expression on her best friend’s face. She never wanted to see that haunted look of disappointment and to know that it was for her ever again. Aimee had left the hospital in her jeans and her ‘Jesus is my Homeboy Shirt’, her green robe dumped on the floor in the lounge. She had taken to the streets, her head bent to an invisible wind, her shoulders weighed down and her mind some place entirely different. It was out of habit or perhaps necessity that she had found herself at The Bar in the dying afternoon.
Sliding onto a barstool Aimee blinked heavy eyes at Sam who in response placed two shots of tequila in front of her.
“Hard day?” He asked with a grim expression.
“You could say that.” Aimee replied lifting the first glass and downing it. She tipped it upside down on the counter and picking up the second she raised it to Sam in a toast, cocking an eyebrow at the same time. “Keep them coming all night.”
“That hard aye.”
He shook his head and placed a further three shots before her before nodding and walking away to serve another customer, leaving Aimee to herself and the torture of her mind.
Deep down Aimee knew that getting pissed off her face right now wasn’t the most sensible thing to do. She knew that, deep down. But on the surface all she wanted was enough alcohol in her body to displace her blood. Then, if there was no blood to pump, there would be no need for that stupid device called a heart. To anyone else the concept sounded crazy but after you’re affair had been caught out, you’d been the victim of eye murder by your best friend and had drowned five straight shots of tequila in a space of seven minutes, it sounded like the sanest thing to ever cross your mind all day.
Placing the other three empty glasses upside down Aimee began to make a pyramid on the bar counter. In a moment another two shots were in front of her and lifting the first she tipped her head back and drained it, the burn lost in the numb of her throat. Already her eyes felt blurry and her motion too slow, she smiled bigger at Sam. This was going to be a long night.
In a blink of an eye everything that she had grown attached to, everything she knew was pulled to pieces. There were no fingers to point at other people; this had been her own doing. Hers and Sean’s and with their choice there had to be consequences, Aimee had always known that, really. However, she’d been so caught up in everything, his eyes, his hands, his smell that she simply had forgotten the band of gold on his important finger. How could a person forget a wedding ring? How could a person forget that the man they were kissing was married, was a man that went home and slept in the same bed with another woman every night? By choice. Their relationship had been physical, spoken for almost a month but the sexual tension between them had existed long before they downfalls. The worst part out of all of this though wasn’t the fact that she was hurting people left right and centre and it wasn’t the fact that she had lied so much to everyone and herself that she had gotten lost somewhere along the way. The worst part of all of this wasn’t that they had been found out, in truth that had made things slightly easier of a more complicated situation. The worst part of all of this was that despite all the looks of heartbreak and disappointment, she still loved him, felt something for him. And honestly, she didn’t regret it.
That was the part that had driven her from the hospital. The looks had been her fuel, the people her excuse but the truth behind it all was he fact that she didn’t regret her feelings. Sure, she regretted hurting everyone; sure she regretted the way things were unfolding and sure she’d probably regret tonight when she woke tomorrow. But she didn’t regret him, which only made her want to scream, and run.
Her mind had been a complete and utter mess as she had walked down the end of the corridor, the opposite way to Carrie, taking the stairs when she took the elevator. Aimee hadn’t wanted to see a replay of that completely shattered expression on her best friend’s face. She never wanted to see that haunted look of disappointment and to know that it was for her ever again. Aimee had left the hospital in her jeans and her ‘Jesus is my Homeboy Shirt’, her green robe dumped on the floor in the lounge. She had taken to the streets, her head bent to an invisible wind, her shoulders weighed down and her mind some place entirely different. It was out of habit or perhaps necessity that she had found herself at The Bar in the dying afternoon.
Sliding onto a barstool Aimee blinked heavy eyes at Sam who in response placed two shots of tequila in front of her.
“Hard day?” He asked with a grim expression.
“You could say that.” Aimee replied lifting the first glass and downing it. She tipped it upside down on the counter and picking up the second she raised it to Sam in a toast, cocking an eyebrow at the same time. “Keep them coming all night.”
“That hard aye.”
He shook his head and placed a further three shots before her before nodding and walking away to serve another customer, leaving Aimee to herself and the torture of her mind.
Deep down Aimee knew that getting pissed off her face right now wasn’t the most sensible thing to do. She knew that, deep down. But on the surface all she wanted was enough alcohol in her body to displace her blood. Then, if there was no blood to pump, there would be no need for that stupid device called a heart. To anyone else the concept sounded crazy but after you’re affair had been caught out, you’d been the victim of eye murder by your best friend and had drowned five straight shots of tequila in a space of seven minutes, it sounded like the sanest thing to ever cross your mind all day.
Placing the other three empty glasses upside down Aimee began to make a pyramid on the bar counter. In a moment another two shots were in front of her and lifting the first she tipped her head back and drained it, the burn lost in the numb of her throat. Already her eyes felt blurry and her motion too slow, she smiled bigger at Sam. This was going to be a long night.
