Isabella.
I sat quietly in the bar, watching as people came in and went out, living their lives while I rot in the destruction of my own.
“Another one?” The hot bartender asked me when I pushed the cup back to him.
I nodded slightly, my vision dividing into a multiverse.
The bartender crouched on the counter staring at me. “You’ve had eight tonight. I think you should stop.”
“Don’t!” I snapped at him, turning the heads of people nearby. “Don’t tell me what to do,” I said in a lower voice.
The bartender raised his hands in surrender. “Perhaps you only need someone to talk to?” He asked.
I smirked. The whiskey burned down my throat as I gulped it. “Why? Are you gay too?”
He laughed. My vision blurred again and I lost balance. A pair of strong hands stopped me from falling, gently p
