',0 Mat's Sad Addiction 0',

Somewhere in the background, a song played on the radio. A song he sympathized with a bit too much. He sat on his livingroom floor. Two bottles of whiskey infront of him. One was empty; the next one was half-way there. Beside the bottles was a picture of her. His beloved, Evelyn, the woman he'd never have again. They had been terrible together, they fought. They cheated. They broke each other's hearts. Next to her picture was a note. With the cliché lines, "I'll love her until the day I die."

And next to the note was a gun, the pistol stared up at Mat. His lips pulled back in a snarl of pain as he picked up his halfway empty bottle of whiskey. Tilting his head back and taking a swig of the alcohol. He had been drinking for ten years. Drinking, and trying to get the feel of her skin off of his mind. The smell of her hair after she showered. The way it's dark curls fanned out underneath her on the pillow. The way she moaned his name so lovingly. The sound of her voice.

Another swig of the whiskey, but it didn't take away the memory of her curves. The way the swell of her hip fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. Or the way she smiled at him after they made love, with tears in her eyes. Countless drinks later, but the memories were still there. She was such a spitfire. Throwing the first punch. Throwing things at him. Beating on him when they fought. They had been terrible together. He cheated, she cheated. She hit, he fought back. They became bruised and bloodied.

Ten years and the pain in his lungs was worse. Even as he lifted up a cigarette from his pack, and lit it up. Choking on the smoke at first, and then letting out a breath. The memories were etched on his brain. And he'd never be rid of them. Mat could still taste her on the tip of his tongue. No matter how much whiskey he drank, she'd never leave the tip of his tongue. Always there, reminding him of how much he loved her.

No matter what happened, she was there. Haunting, he never slept. He never ate, just drank. Past out into blissful nothingness and then vomited. No one could reach through his walls anymore. Ever since she packed up her bags and walked out of his house. He had tried to date other women. Had tried to even sleep with them. The body had always been willing, until a few years ago. But after a while, his spirit and his body synchronized. And neither wanted anyone else but her. And neither were up to living anymore.

There is only so much a man can do, before he finally gives up. Starts to smoke, does drugs, kills himself, or becomes a drunk. Mat had become a drunk. And he smoked; he even tried drugs once. But it didn't take her from his mind, not all the time. And a quick fix only made it worse. When he came down from behind high she was right there. Staring back at him from where she haunted him in his soul.

His work roughened hands wrapped around the handle of the gun. His old tired green eyes closed slowly. He took one last drink of the whiskey. But it didn't take away the sound of her laughter. Or the sound of her voice as she told him that she was leaving. That she was never coming back.

Lightning crashed outside, and thunder clapped inside. Blood and brain matter splattered on the walls, and ground behind him. Staining his furniture, walls, and pictures hanging there. His body went limp, and he finally drank her off of his mind. His fingers had curled around the note. The other hand still loosely holding the gun. His eyes staring forward blankly. Tired green eyes, glossed and empty. Finally, she was off of his mind.