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About This Author
 Kiya is a young woman with many interests. She's got a degree in Computer Science and Registered Nursing.
She's an avid reader and considers Stephen King one of her favorite authors.
She's also been known to pen one or two stories here and there, and as a proud moderator of Writing.Com, she invites you to check out her portfolio (and even better, to sign up today!).
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The Bradbury Chronicles #1091664 added June 17, 2025 at 3:33am
Restrictions: None
The Weight of Someday
The sudden burst of light has me crying out and shrinking within myself.
I wince, holding up an arm to protect bloodshot eyes that throb with every blink.
His shadow is tall and intimidating against the backdrop of another cold summer morning, but luckily, he stoops to my level to pin me with a look of disdain that fills me with a shame so deep, I could burst into tears.
“Good morning, You,” he greets; his voice steady and contemptuous – just as always.
I flinch as he reaches out for me…or not – as he smirks – and picks up the empty bottle to read its label.
“Oh, a new one,” he muses, inspecting the label. “This one’s gotta keep you buzzing for, what… forty-eight hours?”
I say nothing. It doesn’t matter.
With a grunt of disgust, he hurls the bottle against the wall. Glass explodes into fragments. I don’t have the strength to clean it up–
“What kills me,” he continues as he rises to his feet and paces, while somehow managing to avoid bumping into the array of junk piled in this claustrophobic hovel I call a home. “I mean what really gets my goat, is just how many times I’ve tried to warn you and protect you from shit like this, but still – still – you manage to screw it up royally each and every time.”
I try to speak, but he silences me with a glare.
“Don’t you dare say it’s all her fault, you goddamn weak-hearted bastard.” He growls in frustration and reaches down to grab the fistfuls of my stained tee-shirt.
His breath stinks of fresh mints and tobacco; the kind I used to love once upon a time.
I cannot look him in the face though we are close enough to kiss.
“When are you going to realize that you have the power to stop all of this! You think you’re the first guy in history who’s had to deal with heartbreak? Christ! If that was the case half the men in this damn city would be as pathetic as you are! Wake the hell up!”
“Y-y-you don’t understand,” I stammer, desperate for him to see how deep the pain goes.
It’s not just her. It’s a combination of different things, and I’m sure he knows. He just chooses to focus on her, which isn’t really fair.
“You know what the problem is,” he deduces as he studies me from head to foot; his grip tightening still until I feel like breathing is going to be a problem very soon.
“You’re a coward.”
That word stings more than any slap.
“You want to end it all, and yet you continue to cling to life with these pitiful enhancers you call drugs. You need to sleep, an eternal sleep to forget it all, right? So, why…why pump yourself full of the ones that make closing your eyes impossible, hmm? Because you want to remain in this constant state of torturous limbo? You want to punish yourself because you think you’re a failure? That you were unable to keep a girl – that wonderful and amazing girl – as yours forever? That your shows were lacking and the interest was no longer there, and you were let go ‘gently’ and you were too chicken to tell her the truth, and you kept lying and making up stories and you just kept on and on and on until the lines were blurred and you just couldn’t keep up anymore-”
“Stop-”
“…but no. Like a goddamn stubborn mule, you were determined to self-destruct, so you alienate yourself from friends who came knocking wondering if you were okay; from bandmates who sought to start afresh with you, perhaps take you away from this shit city and get some inspiration from the countryside – away from the madness-”
“…please…stop-”
“…and you wouldn’t listen. You didn’t care. You just wanted to wallow in your self-pity until the knocks stopped on your door, until the phone stopped ringing, until she gave up trying to talk sense into you. And you watched helplessly as she walked away in the rain, and you knew she was crying, and you wanted to reach out-”
“S-st-sto-stop!”
“…to call her name, to tell her to come back, but her name remained lodged in your throat, and you couldn’t make a sound-”
“STOP!”
I shove him away with all the strength I can muster; his soft mocking laughter digging into my skin as he willingly releases me and rises to his feet to tower over my huddled form.
“But sure. Don’t listen to me. You stopped doing that a long time ago, anyway. Can’t say I didn’t try, man.”
He paces to the window and looks out of it; hands buried into the pockets of a fine pair of khaki pants that must have been tailored just for him. I used to wear stuff like that, didn’t I?
“To be fair,” he muses aloud. “She’s not given up on you, believe it or not. She still goes around asking about you. Sometimes she even walks up to your doorstep, tries to knock, but then turns away, so maybe…just maybe there’s still hope. You really have to be the one to take that first step, buddy. Can’t do more than that.”
Tears well in my eyes and spill down my cheeks before I can control them. I sob helplessly, the sounds harsh and impolite in the silence. It feels like my heart is going to rip in two, and I wonder what I ever did to deserve someone like her.
I really am a coward.
I hear him shuffling about, the whiff of his cologne a reminder of a trip to Berlin five years ago. The tour had been a good one. She had bought that perfume for me.
I should call her.
And apologize.
And beg for us to start anew.
And promise that everything will be all right from now on.
I should call her…
…but first, I just need a little more courage, so I’ll take one more hit of this and rest for a bit, and then first thing in the morning, I’ll make that call.
I promise.
I reach for the lighter.
He sighs in resignation as I flip it open.
I barely acknowledge him leaving; the silence broken only by the sizzle of the flame, a reminder that things will surely get better.
Someday.
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Word Count: 1066
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