Delilah
I didn’t get it.
How people could just get on with their lives like Dodge hadn’t died just four days ago.
Like he hadn’t a massive part of ours lives. Like he didn’t matter.
What the hell was wrong with them all?
Was I the only one who remembered him?
Rolling over in my bed I reached for the bottle on my nightstand.
And it was empty. Empty and it was only eleven am. Which meant I had drunk it all in only a few hours. Groaning I swung my legs from the bed.
I hated the thought of going downstairs, downstairs meant people. People who were getting on with their lives. People who were forgetting Dodge.
But downstairs was were the alcohol was and I needed it to numb the over whelming guilt that racked me.
It was my fault Dodge had died. Because I couldn’t do what I was t
