a day of horrors that never die; michella.

[rodney]

He told her he did not want to see her tonight. He did not do it to hurt her, actually its quite the opposite. He did it so he wouldn't hurt her. Because today was a day for pain, a day for hurt. He was hurt this day and he spreads it when he is with someone too. His only other real friend at Hogwarts had offered to be there for him today, but he told him no also. He had to be alone, that was just the way it had to be. Michael wished it were not this day, he wished he could skip this day every year. He would try to sleep through it but that wouldn't work. Being stoned didn't help. The only thing that dulled the pain was drinking. Lots and lots of drinking.

And today he started early. He woke up at nine, took a shower, got dressed in an old pair of jeans shorts and did not bother with a shirt because it had only been a week since he had gotten the giant new tattoo on his shoulder blades. When he was finally up at the room of requirement it was ten am. Which was a good time for him to start, he figured. James had shown him this room, told him how it turned into whatever someone needed it for. And that was exactly what it had done. It had a mini bar in it, that he would be pouring himself drinks from all day and all night long until tomorrow came rolling around. It also had an old couch, and some chairs in it. Which he knew he would be crashing out in later. Last but not least, a stereo with a cd player.

Walking over to the CD player he put in his old mix CD of rock music. He never listened to this CD or any of the songs on it except on this day. Because it was what he was listening to when the magical law enforcement people came to tell him that his mother had killed his father. His father, the one he was closest to. He was one of those rare students who actually got along with their dad, his mum he argued with daily about the way he dressed, acted, the music he listened to, everything. His dad was cool, his dad was a lot like him. He was better friends with his dad than he was with his best friend from school Alek Dotchov.

By now it was late afternoon, around four o'clock. He had not been outside of this room all day and he still felt strangely numb and almost sober. It was like he had drank himself sober in all the hours he was there. It had been five? No, six hours since he arrived there and had the first glass of whiskey. Then he had moved on to bourbon, and soon rum. Now it was about time he was going to try vodka, even though he really did not care for it that much. At this point, anything was worth it. He lit up a cigarette and poured himself a glass of straight vodka.

Michael's eyes were already bloodshot from hell, and there was no denying that he could not stand straight anymore. He felt like shouting to the sky, he felt like crying, like doing anything but sitting here while he drank himself stupid. But that was what he did, alone, every year, once a year. He had been stupid when he was fourteen, right after his father had been killed, he drank every day. He smoked, ever day. he was never sober, and he barley remembered that year at all. Not that he wanted to remember it, he was in such a dark place. Which was what this day brought him back to.

Now he relived all those memories because this was the only time they were clear. When he was drunk. Gone to the world around him, trying to forget about everything that happened. It really was a good thing he had told Michella not to come, she did not need to see this. That was why he never drank normally. That was why he was glad he was alone today...

[zambini]

Michella was worried. I mean, really worried. Michael's words rang painfully in her ears. He didn't want to see her today. When he had said this, even though she knew it was wrong, her mind jumped to seeing Michael in bed with someone else. It made her angry and painfully upset to even think this. She was curious though, and went to find him.

She started off with all the basic school places, the grounds, the classroom, and finally asked a Gryffindor if he was in the common room. He said no but he'd seen Michael heading to the Room of Requirements. Michella was over there in a shot.

Reaching there, she prepared herself. The door was already partly open, so she peeked her head around the door. What she saw, in her opinion, was worse than any girl. Was Michael trying to drink himself to death?! Gingerly and half scared, she approached Michael, her eyes full of concern and worry. His once beautiful eyes now looked red from bloodshot. If he stood, Michella knew he'd wobble horribly.
"M-Michael?" she whispered, shock ebbing accross her features. Surely she'd got this wrong, this couldn't be her boyfriend! Tears watered and threatned to fall on Michella's face. She shook her head slowly, stumbling backwards to the minibar. Finally she reached it and grabbed a beer bottle, turning around so she didn't have to look at him. She gluggled the bottle in two seconds flat, and moved on to her second. Tears fell.
Of course Michella thought it was her fault. Now all was on her list was to get really, really wasted. Which, considering the last time she done that, it was not the best idea.

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[rodney]

Maybe he was finally drowning in his thoughts, or his liquor but either way it was going well for him. This was actually the least shitty he had felt about this day on this day since it actually happened. What else was left for him to do though? Maybe one year he would spend time with Cody instead of being here, but he really did not see that happening for a while. Maybe when his son was older, and he could tell him what happened and his story it would be easier. He never wanted his son to see him like this though, it wasn't fair to him. Especially not when he was this young. Things might get close to fading away from reality but there was still that bomb shell in his head... It had been three years since he had seen his dad. Three years this coming weekend since he had buried him. When he felt like there was no point in going to school or doing anything with his life. Because he had stuck with all of that to make his dad proud of him. Then when Cody was born he decided perhaps his dad would want him to still finish everything he started. Which was why he was still here today.

He just wanted to tell somebody what was going on in his head right now. He resisted just shouting it to the sky because it never made a difference anyway, did it? Not really. Michael was completely oblivious to his surroundings. Everything was sort of blurring together at this point. But when he finally noticed someone else in the room, he almost shit himself. How could someone honestly see him like this and walk in the room after him? He puffed his cigarette and his anger and blood pressure were rising. This was not at all a good thing for him and he did not know what he was going to do. If it was a guy he would probably slug them right in the jaw. If it was a girl... He would probably just scream at them to get out. He had not turned around yet he just knew someone else was in the room of requirement with him and Michael was not very happy about it.

Soon he heard his name be whispered as he downed the last of his glass of vodka. He sighed, it was Michella, he would recognize that voice anywhere. After all, they had been dating for quite a few weeks, almost a couple months maybe? Hmmm. He was not sure. But he knew that was her as soon as he heard her voice. The last thing he had wanted was for her to see him today. He had been a little rude before, saying he just did not want to see her at all today. But he felt that if he gave away his reasoning that it would seem stupid or shallow or well anything but normal. He figured people would normally want to be surrounded by family or friends that care about them on a day such as today, but Michael preferred to be alone. To drink himself stupid in solitude and he would start over the next day, with a hang over, but as if it were any other day. You would think that after all the time he spent sober to alcohol anymore, that he would be a lightweight like when he first started drinking. But his tolerance kept with him and through most the day he had felt fine, now he could barley turn around in his seat let alone stand up.

But that was what he did. When he turned around and saw Michella looking upset and grabbing one of his beers, downing it, and going for a second. "Don't be touching that love."

[/i] he said with a bit of an angry tone, and in his native Bulgarian. Thank god she understood Bulgarian because if he were speaking in English right now you probably could not understand what he was trying to say through the slurring and his accent. Michael took the other beer off the counter, shaking the empty bottle to see if she had even left a drop. Nope. He threw the bottle at the wall by the window he had at one point been smoking out of. He watched as it hit the window and shattered with a loud crash both when it hit the wall and when the pieces hit the floor. He did not even blink an eye at what he had just done. He was not trying to be mean about her drinking his alcohol but it was not right that someone would take away his only somewhat escape on this day. The worst day of the year for gods sakes.

Taking a beer from behind the counter he did as Michella had done and downed it easily and quickly. It was like he absorbed it more than he swallowed it. It would have the same effect at this point wouldn't it? Then he picked up the bottle of whiskey that was half empty sitting on the counter where he had left it earlier for a cigarette. He snatched up the bottle with one hand, and leaned against the counter and smoked his cigarette with the other. "What are you doing here? Drinking my beer? Didn't I tell you I wanted to be alone?" he asked, doing his damndest to not sound horribly mean. He wanted to sound more... confused and frustrated but he sure felt angry. At himself, the world, and the beer missing that she drank. But mostly at himself and his mother. Besides the point while he waited for her answer he took a long swig from the bottle and kept puffing on his smoke. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[zambini]

Michella wasn't even sure what feeling she was registering, it seemed like a whole lot mixed, and it produced a whole new one. Which she wasn't sure of. Then he told her not to touch the booze. It wasn't a warm comforting Michael tone, it was an angry tone. Michella then blinked as he threw the bottle against the wall. She sighed and put her head in her hands. This wasn't what she'd thought would happen.
"What are you doing here? Drinking my beer? Didn't I tell you I wanted to be alone?"
"Yes, you did, but I can't help it if I think my ... boyfriend was cheating on me, now, can I!?"

[/i] She almost yelled, standing up and looking down at him. "And it turns out you were! God Michael, I thought I'd be more important than alcohol to at least someone, to you, but no."[/i] She shook her head in disgust. "But if you want to drink yourself silly then go ahead. I'm sure your son would wonder where the hell his daddy went, just as I'm wondering where my boyfriend is because it's sure as hell not you."[/i]
She turned around on her heael, not intending to leave but to head for the sofa, grabbing a cushion and staring on, tears still lingering in her eyes, but not so much that they fell. She now didn't care what Michael did, if he loved his goddamn alcohol so much he didn't want to see her, why were they even going out?[/size][/center]

[rodney]

It had never meant to be this way. It was supposed to be more of a him and not being bothered night. He had known he would do something or say something stupid if Michella came. So what did she do? Come looking for him. How obvious could he have been? He did not want company tonight. It was the only night all year he would not want to spend with her but could she have listened? No of course not. What was she saying she was assuming? He almost missed it she was yelling so much and he was soo wasted right now. When he realized it she was saying she thought he had been cheating on her. If only she knew what was really going on tonight. The worst night of his life repeated ifself every year on the same day. It was like reliving the horror and the only way to get rid of those thoughts was to get drunk. And she was trying to keep him from that. He looked at her as she walked away from him and moved to sit on the couch hugging the pillow he had been laying on earlier.

Michella just could not understand could she? Well maybe if he sat down and told her the story but he really did not want to do that. No one knew exactly what happened three years ago but him and his one best friend from back at Durmstrang and it had been hard enough to tell him. And Alek had been his friend from before their first year in school! Looking over at her, she was on the verge of tears and he could not stand seeing her like this. "Michella." he said trying to keep his cool and get calmed down again. Her taking a couple of his beers had really pissed him off but he could get over that. He had plenty of everything else left... Except the rum... and the bourbon... and the vodka... He had killed those bottles already. Not that it would be very hard to conjur up a little bit more. And there was no doubt in his mind at this point that he would. Remembering the cigarette in his hand he puffed it once again, to keep it from going out. Not that he really cared, he had more.

Michael went to sit on the couch next to her, but he sat on the other side so he would be facing her. "Michella..." he said again, this time in English rather than bulgarian. "I would never cheat on you." he said with emphasis on the word never. He was not like that he had never cheated on a girl once in his life and he would not start now. "And alcohol is not more important than you... This is just a day I need to myself. I am an ass on this day and I didn't want to be like that to you." Now he felt ashamed at himself for having been the way he had just been. But on the other hand he also felt that she put it on herself! She was the one that jumped to conclusions before she knew what was really happening. But of course, the way her past relationships had gone he was not too suprised that she might think that was what was happening when he said he did not want her to come that night. He knew it probably hurt and all but he needed this time to himself.

"Michella if I tell you why I'm drinking myself stupid and why I'm here in the first place I will go ahead and tell you." he said softly and with a bit of an upset tone in his accented speach. He hoped he would not regret this later but he needed to tell her other wise she would continue thinking he was just being an inconsiderate alcoholic. Which was something he definitely did not want. "Listen honey. Three years ago I was at home for the weekend. Durmstrang let us do that occasionally and so I had gone home to spend some time with my dad. When him and my mom went out that night, they did not come back. I got visited by the magical law enforcement squad and they told me that my mom killed my dad that night. I went into a bit of a downword spiral after that. I drank literally every day, started fucking up in school, doing everything wrong. When I was fifteen I got Jasmine pregnant at a party. It was supposed to be a one night stand. And if I need to admit it Cody was my life savor. If I had not had him I would not have cleaned up.

Honestly Michella, if you think that I do this all the time you're wrong. Have you ever seen me even take a sip of a drink before this? No. I stopped drinking when I found out she was pregnant. She waited three months after that party to find me. I barely recognized her I had been so drunk that night. I skated through that whole year Michella. I knew I had to be there for my kid and that I would not have my life cut short on them like my dad had. My dad's name was Cody Rodney. That is my son's name." he sighed. He had not told this story since a couple months after it happened and when he told Jasmine about what happened. He was still distrought about the way he acted for the year and some months after his fathers death. He knew it was the wrong way to handle it. "Listen. I can't drink. Except today. Today is the only day I drink all year. Because I know I wont stop. So when I wake up tomorrow with the worst hang over you could imagine I won't drink tomorrow. Or I end up having to force myself not to.

"I did not mean to hurt you. I am sorry. But if you don't think I have the tiniest excuse to drink myself into forgetting about this, one day a year I'm sorry. My son will never see me like this. Not ever. I can promise you that." After that he said nothing he flicked the cigarette on the ground forgetting the ash tray and and looked her right in the eyes. He wanted her to forgive him and he hoped she would see the pain in his eyes. Then he took the bottle of whiskey in his hand and took another long swig while waiting for her response.

[zambini]

He told her he'd never cheat on her. She sullenly and dully replied with, "That's what they all say." She faced him, avoiding from looking into his eyes, "But they never work out." She shook her head rather sadly, thinking of all the past times with all the other boyfriends, hopefully Michael wouldn't be like that.
"Well it's too late for that Michael Rodney." She muttered, indicating to the glass. She then listened carefully and watched Michael's facial expressions as he told her his story. She suddenly felt like the worse person in the world, jumping straight to conclusions, thinking of this and that when it was simple and really, when you thought about it, not all that bad compared to the other things people did around here. She slowly slid her arms around her boyfriend, tears springing to her eyes for the third time. "I'm sorry. God I'm so so sorry." she whispered as she clung onto him, not wanting to let go or tell him what she was about to tell him. As he tried to take a long swig, Michella stopped him by softly prying the bottle out of his hands.
"I want to tell you something but it is personal, and I want you as sober as you can be when I tell you." She told him, seriously and not a hint of foolery in her lips. She waited a while, preparing herself mentally because no doubt she'd cry when she relived it.
"It was six months ago, my mom and dad had split up. She, being the slut she is, had already got herself a boyfriend. He was really nice though, and seemed a great guy for her, everyone thought so, even me. I was right, but ... not in the way I expected.
"Mom went out one night and ... we were laughing, happy one minute, and the next ... I'm pressed up against a wall with him trying to rape me." Michella sobbed, pressing her face into the cushion. "W-when I told h-her, sh-she said I-I ... I deserved it!" she wept, crying uncontrolably and wouldn't be able to stop for a while, it seemed.

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[rodney]

When Michael said that she had never seen him take a drink before that she said it was a little too late for that. He smiled at her, his bloodshot eyes looking right in her perfectly sober ones. "You have no idea." he said softly and he kept it at that for a moment. "If you think this is bad... Well travel back a few years and this is how I lived life. Every day. I went to class drunk off my ass every day. I got to the point where I could not even tell I was drunk. I functioned better when I was drunk." he admitted. Remembering all of this was painful for him and his eyes started to water now but he held it back and they did not start up again until later. He shook his head and tried to shrug it off. He hated admitting what he had used to be. He hated that he had let himself stray that far from where he had been. He had been a good kid, he got good grades and he hardly ever touched a drop of alcohol before this. And he had never touched a cigarette either until after that night. Then he picked up every bad habit he could have or so it seemed. "Just trust me. This is nothing. Tomorrow, will be a struggle. Until today, I have been sober for three hundred and sixty four days. As far as alcohol is concerned at least." he told her and he sighed.

During the telling of his story a couple of tears started to well up in his eyes. But he would not let them fall, he couldn't. He refused. But yet, they fell anyway. Just as his girlfriend wrapped her loving arms around him and started to tell him how sorry she was for jumping to conclusions when she really knew nothing of what was going on in his head today. He hugged her close to him and he never wanted to let her go. This was the first time someone had seen him on this day since it happened. He always made a point of locking himself away so he could not hurt anybody. Because someone had hurt him and he wanted everyone else to hurt just as much as he did. That was why he had thrown that beer bottle. Just to hurt it. He thought about taking the jagged pieces of broken bottle and slicing away at his arm like a block of cheese. But he assumed Michella probably would not like that.

His knuckles and the tops of his hands were already bloody and black and blue from pounding away at the walls all day long. And he knew he would be regretting that tomorrow when he needed to use his hand for something other than holding a bottle. because right now the booze was taking over his body and he could barley feel the pain in his hands. And he very much doubted they could get him to choke down the potion to take care of that. because he had never let anyone make him take a potion before he and did not plan on starting now. He hated the taste and feel of almost every single one as they went down his throat. It's funny how someone can love the sting of alcohol so much but can't stand for a little disgusting potion to go down their throat. Oh well, that was not something he was really concerned with right now.

When Michael tried to tip the bottle up to his lips again Michella took it away from him before he even got half a mouthful of alcohol. She told him she had something important to tell him and she wanted him to be as sober as possible when she told him. "Hon, I'm far past sober."

[/i] he said slightly mumbling his words. It was true, he knew now, it was all hitting him. All that alcohol, everything was finally fuming to his brain and he knew soon enough he would not even really be coherent enough to tell that Michella was there let alone talking to him. "Hurry with your story please."[/i] he asked because he wanted to get through the story before he could not remember it the next day. Then she started to speak. She started off softly and her voice only faded as she remembered her story. Just like he had, she looked more and more upset as she told the story.

Michella explained to him how her step dad had made an attempt at raping her. And how her mum had said she deserved it. Which Michael knew would have to be total and complete bull shit. He could not see Michella doing anything bad at all, and no one ever deserved being raped unless they had raped someone themselves. Luckily he had not succeeded and she had not been raped. But it was so close and thinking about it brought her to tears. He put his arms back around her and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry Michella." he whispered in English. He had no idea what else to say, he was too drunk out of his mind to think of anything else. If she had waited until tomorrow to tell him maybe he would be better at calming her down. But right now while he tried to focus on her his mind was still half on what this day meant to him. His mind could never be fully distracted today. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[zambini]

"Just trust me. This is nothing. Tomorrow, will be a struggle. Until today, I have been sober for three hundred and sixty four days. As far as alcohol is concerned at least."
Michella sighed, she did not want to know this, she wished she had stayed away when he'd asked her, then she wouldn't feel like this, worried and for the first time, frightened of Michael. But then, what had been done was done, there was no way of erasing it now.
"Would you like left alone tomorrow as well?" she questioned him. No offence to Michael, but she hoped so. She hated people with hangovers. No matter how much she loved and desired them, if they were drunk and had a hangover, she tried to avoid them. She wasn't sure why she was staying with Michael then, if that was how she felt about people.
He then told her he was sorry. For what? There was no way he could have saved her, they didn't even know each other then. She asked Michael, "What for?" A little shakily. She wrapped her arms back around him, not wanting to let him go, ever. She held back the tears. She stayed like that for a while, oblivous to what Michael did and in truth, not really caring. He had a good enough reason to drink, in her eyes.
When she finally got up, she said to him, "Would you like me to leave? It seems you need time alone." She waited his answer, still hugging the pillow close to her, even though it was wet, as if it were some kind of comfort toy. To her, it was.

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