Feet stomp across the wooden panels as a mind furies against itself, a bottle the only finite solution to an eternal problem. The last bottle, the singular sips of spirit that could drown out a raging storm that threatens to destroy everything in its path--to destroy me. Hands drag through grown out hair and tense features to distract from the oncoming storm that may not be weathered.

A simple stop for coffee--look both ways, no cars, cross the street, step into Tiff's, coffee in hand and head out. A simple walk home--step to the curb, look both ways, no cars, cross the street. Then suddenly, a car--a car was screeching to a stop a mere few inches away. The world around screeching to a halt in tandem with the vehicle--ears rang and mind went blank. Muffled apologies spilled from the driver's window as the quiet voice of a child inquired about the incident. The panic sets in--heart racing and chest constricting. The coffee is dropped to the ground and its contents spilled like scarlet life onto the street.

With labored breathing and darting eyes, thumping heart and fast feet, I sprinted past the storefront door to the side of the building. With a heaving chest I white knuckled the railing to pull myself up the metal stairs, creaks and screeching mirroring the torment in my mind. Torment that I once believed I had escaped from. The cell door was opened just to be slammed in my face at the realization that I fooled myself and I fooled her--fooled into a possibility of forever. Fishing for my key with shaking hands and fumbling with the lock to push myself through the threshold of security, of isolation.

A dash to the cabinet, the singular spirit stupidly left above the refrigerator to save myself from the flashing scenes of everything--the accident, my parents, and my grandparents' harsh words. I banged it on the beaten wooden table and twisted the lid off, allowing the foul smell to leak into the air and invade my nostrils.

The scenes flash fast, vivid visions of my last moments with them.

"Come on, we're running late my sweet boy," my mother's voice rang out as she stepped out to the car depot.

That same screech of tires, spinning out of control, screams, the flipping of the car, the blackness that engulfed my senses. The regaining of consciousness, the seeing of stars, being pulled from the wreck, searching for them, seeing them gurneyed off in black body bags, knowing I'd lost them forever.

"If you weren't so selfish, making our son take you to that pointless concert, we'd still have him." My grandmother's blunt, emotionless tone echoes through my ears as tears stream down my face in their garage.

Clutching the bottle in my hand and tipping it back, Sunshine came to mind. My Sunshine, Phoebe. Her beautiful soul, the tormented angel I've come to adore wholeheartedly. The love that would be shattered if I did this. The light I'd dim if she saw this. I placed the bottle back down roughly and began pacing.

And so feet stomp across the wooden panels as a mind furies against itself, a bottle the only finite solution to an eternal problem. The last bottle, the singular sips of spirit that could drown out a raging storm that threatens to destroy everything in its path--to destroy me. Hands drag through grown out hair and tense features to distract from the oncoming storm that may not be weathered.

The duration of the pacing, unknown. It could be hours or merely seconds. It's unbearable, the harassment my mind is executing on my body is unbearable. I need a drink. The neck of the bottle is taken into my fist, it's being brought to my lips, until I'm halted yet again.

Light knocks, timid and weary, three, before the handle is twisted gingerly. She comes through the door, the desperation dropping her delicate features at the sight of the bottle in my fist. Her eyes scan it quickly before burrowing into my eyes. Frantic steps rush to me, her bag falling to the ground with a clatter as it's left behind. Her nimble arms reach for the bottle, fingers grazing my skin in an attempt to gain control of the substance. I shift my body to guard it, my back to her with the bottle to my chest.

"What the hell happened?" Her voice shaking from the tension in the room. The anxiety brought about by the bottle leaving her eyes frantic and her movements unstable.

"A-a car. There wa-was a car and it-it," I stutter out, my voice quiet and full of insecurity. I can already see the light dimming in her.

Her hands reach out towards the bottle again, "Harry, Sunshine, put the bottle down. I can help you but only if you put the bottle down."

"I need a drink, I need it." I gasp out defensively.

"Harry, I can help you. Let me help you, please give me the bottle." Her voice is shaking but full of compassion as she grabs my wrist to get to it.

I pull away again and step back, "I just need one drink."

Steps away in defeat, the flame flickering in her soul desperately to keep any light alive, her lip quivers as she pinches the ends of her hair. Her eyes glassed with tears that threaten to spill as her vision apprehensively darts between the guarded bottle in my hands to the pathetic look on my face. A long breath is spent from her lungs, her lips part to spill the exhale into the air, she's going to say something that she doesn't want to. Her eyes lock on mine, "If you drink that I'm gone."

"One drink." I plead out.

She shakes her head as her eyes drop down to the liquor, "If one drop of that touches your tongue, I'm leaving and I will not come back."

"You know it's not that easy," My voice raises with anger as I bring the bottle closer to my face.

My stomach tightens into knots at the soft sobs that leave her chest. The flame, the fuel of her fire is spent, the final fuse flickers weakly. The guilt overwhelms me, each instance in which I've let her down only adding to the desire to drink away all the pain. Maybe I should drink it, maybe it would be better if she left. She'd find someone better--someone with more success, someone with less wasted potential, someone with fewer chains, someone with a lighter burden, someone who isn't one crosswalk away from falling apart. She'll find someone brighter--someone that doesn't extinguish her flame to fuel their own. She'll find someone that can give her everything she's always wanted but won't admit. She'll find her forever.

The selfishness grips my mind and berates me with pleas to keep her, appeals to have her arms wrapped around me and mend my broken heart. I've fallen off the cliff for her but now I don't trust that she'll be able to catch my weight, I need her to stop the bone crush.

"I can't do this again," she mutters with heavy pain coming from her throat. She chokes out cries and pulls at the ends of her hair again. "I'm not strong enough to do this again."

"It's just one, it won't hurt anything. It'll be the last one." I'm begging her at this point, I need her to give me permission, I need her to tell me it's okay, even if it's not.

Her head shakes as it drops into her hands, howling cries blow past her fingers that shiver her shoulders. Her cries ring in my ears and slice open my chest. We both stand at a distance, unable to reach out and stop the harrowing storms plaguing our minds. Her rogued, tear streaked cheeks are lifted from her hands, her bloodshot eyes find mine hesitantly, "I will not put myself through this again. I will not coddle you through this. I've done that before and it royally fucked me over."

"It's just one drink," My voice cracks as I feel the affliction radiating off of her skin. A lump sits held in my throat, my hands turn to clams. Sweat coats the bottleneck.

"No," a tone full of agony tears at my eardrum, "I will not bear witness to another binge that lasts days. Ones that are full of broken promises and earth shattering disappointments."

"Phoebe," I gasp out with poorly disguised desperation, "It'll be the last one. Please."

"That's what she'd always say too. She'd say, 'If you just let mommy do this for the weekend, we'll have fun this week.' She'd promise me that if I let her get her fix that she'd make sure Teddy and I got to go to school. I won't do this again. I'm not strong enough."

"Sunsh-," I start but she interrupts me.

"No. I already told you, I will not stay. If you even take a sip of that, I'm out of here. I know how to leave now, so if you go through with this, you can kiss any chance of ever speaking to me ever again goodbye." The sincerity in her voice makes it feel like a knife has just been pushed into my chest.

"Sunshine, I can't do this anymore."

"And neither can I, Harry."

The tears that welt up finally fall, leaving trails behind. The frog that rests in my throat is sniffled back and I look down at her, gazing at her in her entirety.

Her warm amber hair--it reaches the end of her ribcage and it's strong and it's shining. Her porcelain skin--it's freckled covered and free of any blemish. Her thin fingers--their nails polished and cuticles left unabused. Her eyes--they're bloodshot and they're watering. Her heart--it's strong but it's aching. She's finally found herself, loves herself. Her body, the temple I've always worshipped, it's been built up again into the person she's been searching for far before I met her.

She's strong and she's beautiful, but I will tear her apart brick by brick with a bottle in my hand and her defenses aren't up, I will put her through a hell she's finally escaped.

A final grip on my wrist, a tight clasp that isn't released as I turn to place myself between her and the bottle. Glazed over eyes that send silent pleas that her lips could never say. I'm already chipping at her, breaking her down, I can't do this to her.

The clouds cover the Sunshine. I'm casting a shadow of her blinding and brilliant blazes of bright light. Rays I prayed would wrap around the horizon and drag me through the dark, intercessions that begged for warm meadows of lush green grass and amber waves dusted with sunshine to be the destination.

I'd found it--amber waves that get ruffled in sleep, lush green that take in everything so that the world can be reflected on with fervent dedication, Sunshine that pulled me out from the dark wood on a path cultivated with conquerable obstacles.

I've lost it--amber waves tightly bound between knuckles, lush green that is now spent over with storm showers and bloodshed. The Sunshine that pulled me out of the dark wood on a path cultivated with conquerable obstacles has been forced behind clouds, night cover conquers her and exiles her away.

I can see the torment this is putting her through, I can't do this to her.

The bottle tips back, the slow burn coating my throat as the liquid slides down, my eyes widen at the familiar fire. A destructive fire that will inevitably scorch those amber waves and lush green meadows.

God I've missed this, she was right, it wouldn't be my last drink.

A hurt gasp falls from her lips as she falls to her knees in defeated weeps. Inhumane whines break past the palms brought up to cover her mouth. Raw and brutal and beating her to the ground. My love muscle aches at the sight of her, I've let her crumble completely, I sent her temple crashing down.

I've let her down for the final time, she can finally be free of me. I'm no longer her burden to carry.

The bottle is brought into my peripheral vision, it's placed on the counter before coming back to stand in front of her rumpled figure.

I stand there helplessly in silence, patiently waiting for the storm to eventually settle. I can't help her, shelter her from the hurricane--no storm shutters on the windows, no sanctuary. I can't help her, this is all my fault. All I can do is watch as she leaves me.

Eventually, her hands are brought down to either side of her kneeling body and she pushes herself to stand. The heels of her palms rub at her eyes to force back floods of saline, swiping fingers are no match for the open floodgates, the streams steadily fall down her cheeks. Her weak steps close the gap between us, her hand falls to my chest to stabilize herself as she leans forward, a kiss pressed to my jaw. She steps back and I can't hinder the hope that rises in my chest, my eyes widen in pleading as my eyebrows drop in inquiry. I'm met with a shaking head and a devastated expression that shatters the flicker of hope. Her stature raised up on the balls of her feet as a kiss is pressed to my lips by her own quivering ones.

"Goodbye Harry," her voice cracks and she flattens her feet back on the ground.

Her feet take her back, distancing herself from me as her tote is brought back onto her shoulder. My mind reeling as her heavily suffered expression forces her head to hang lowly. I've sincerely destroyed everything, I've truly lost her.

"Goodbye, my Sunshine." I whisper as she closes the door behind her, "I'm sorry."

Absent stares at the worn out wooden door, pitifully awaiting her reappearance. Woefully watching for the moment the door will swing open and crash into the wall, the moment when she will throw herself into my arms and crash her lips into mine. My mind tells me she won't walk back through that door, that I've willingly let her walk out of my life. My heart is holding out that she didn't mean it, that she will come bursting back in and wrap her arms around me and stop my bones from crushing on the ground below.

The Sunshine of my life, Phoebe Mae, is gone. My guiding light, the singular sunbeam that led me through the darkness as I stepped across the glass-shard covered floor of my cell to reach out to hold her hand through the bars. I wanted to live for her, I wanted to. I wanted to let her show me how to live, I wanted to. She'd found how to live, she'd discovered it as I watched. She could have shown me. I wanted her to. The Sun has set below the skyline and I'm left to wander the pitch black night alone. The afternoons with golden rays warming my skin are gone.

Days of her scribbling down each thought that crosses her mind are gone. I won't see her tongue poke out between her lips as she concentrates in order to get a word off the tip of her tongue and onto paper. Her fingers will never tangle in my hair or my sheets. Nights will be lonesome, I'll fall asleep alone, she won't be there to hold. Mornings will be solitary, her favorite records won't spill on vinyl as she twirls around in the kitchen, a button down wrapped around her slender body. No more kisses in the kitchen or dances in refrigerator light. No more heavenly mornings and divine nights. Wandering down aisles of books will be lonely, she won't search shelves for novels to give me. Guitar strings will be sorrowfully reminiscent, a song won't be sung that doesn't remind me of her. Darcy's bookstore will no longer be a gleeful part of my routine, that Louis Armstrong biography will never be checked out under the same name, I won't get the pleasure of seeing her hold back that beautiful smile she has, the one only I got to see. She'll never ask me to braid her hair or paint her nails. She'll never be here again. My life will be lived pathetically sulking over the memories I have of her.

My sight shifts down to the sky blue polish chipping on the nail of my pinky finger. The tears that have been held back are let go, the dam finally broken, as I gasp out heaving breaths and crash to the floor. My breathing is staggered and uneven as howls rise up from my throat. Every promise I ever made to her was broken at that moment. Every sincere statement I made on her behalf was taken back by the shot sent to my gut.

Another person that's made empty promises to her, that's what I've become. She's been left with more shards of glass to stare back at herself, I'm only another reason that she will not trust her own judgment. The broken remnants of the pledges to her honor have sliced over her heart to let it all bleed out yet again. Her mother or those people she went to that party with, I'm no more honorable than them. I promised to keep her safe and do everything in my power to make her happy. In the end, all I've done is given her more reasons to never want a forever.

Uncontrollable, hysterical sobs sent me to sleep on that hardwood floor.

Pitch blackness is what I'm brought back to as I regain consciousness. Rain pours so heavily that the world outside my window is blurred. The blissful state of momentary memory loss is quickly stolen away as the precipitation patters down on the roof. Rain was something unspokenly significant to Phoebe and I, every remarkable moment that ever happened between us occurred when it rained. The first day I ever saw her, it rained. The night when she kissed me and I found out she wanted me, we danced in it. When she finally told me why she dyed her hair blonde and I told her why I'm an alcoholic hamaxophobiac, it poured. I guess it's fitting then, that now that it's ended, it's pouring down the hardest it ever has.

A crater in my chest, a hole that won't be filled, was left by the sip of spirit. I knew I had to let her go, her expression of utter terror showed how much I'd betrayed her, how many promises I'd broken.

Bringing that bottle to my lips was her escape, we'd said that we didn't want a forever. I wanted a forever with her, gradually, I saw myself in situations with her in which my mind would wander to old couples on porch-swings and wrinkled arthritis-ridden hands tying up shoelaces or bowties. I couldn't make that choice for her, her choice of forever, so I let her go. I'd have fallen off the deep end either way, if I didn't drink, I'd have to admit that I do love her, and since I did drink, I have to admit that I'm still a broken soul that can't be mended.

I do love her, I'm so in love with her. If she would have stayed, if I would have let her, I would have spent every second of every day loving her. But I guess, if you love them then you have to let them go. Maybe she never loved me, she never said it, but part of me thinks maybe she did, maybe she didn't have to say it, she just showed me instead.

Even if I can't have her, I'm going to live for her. I'm going to do everything I'm terrified of, so I can live for her. So one day, I can die knowing I did it, I lived for her. So one day, I can die believing that I'd done something to make her proud, something that she would have loved.

I'm going to share my music.

I'm going to get treatment.

I'm going to finally be able to get in a car again.

I'm going to live for her, so that I can show her that I love her, that I love her enough to live.