Contains alcohol abuse, death and adult situations. Readers are warned not to read if overly sensitive to such things. Based around the song, Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss. Alternate Ending: What if Shawchert returns too late?
I bet he never expected this. It's probably safest to say he expected I'd wait for him. I didn't, though. I never do. I've always been impatient, quick to move on, despite what my heart might tell me. When he left, I swore off anyone else, just like I had with Revoldo when he died. Just like before, though, a new face, a new touch, a new 'love'. It didn't feel the same as last time, but then again, I had changed too much to notice. We fell for eachother and by that summer we were official. He hated that I couldn't have children, but that didn't matter for the most part. We were happy. At least, I thought we were.
Then Shawchert came home. He came home to beg for me to take him back in, straight up the stairs to our old room. He should've noticed the different scent, but I'm the pack's only doctor, so maybe he passed it off as a patient. He walked into the bedroom to find us together, dozing off to sleep. Without a word, he walked out again. I was too afraid to follow, too worried that I might discover it to be all in my head... too hopeful for the same.
I spent the next few weeks staying well away from him. It wasn't hard after that, though; he left the town, making home a small area just inside the territory. Sky and Bangle told me he'd taken up drinking... but they never gave advice. They didn't know what to do. They hadn't expected him to come home either. I was so confused back then, but at the same time, spiteful. He'd left me for no good reason! I'd been out searching all over the place for his bastard children and their mother to come home to an empty house! He should've known better! Gods damn him and his misery.
And then... and then tragedy. I woke one morning to find nearly half the pack in tears, the other half not daring to look my way. When I asked what was happening, Skye told me the honest truth; Shawchert had been drinking again... and this time he didn't wake up. They'd found him in bed, face-down, with a note. The note. Just like the one I still had yet to read, back when he'd first left. This time, I took the chance and read it...
I regreted it. "I'll love her 'till I die." it said. I went home without a word, locking my new mate and anyone else out of the house and walling myself up in my room. I sat there all day and night, crying. The next morning, I dug through my old storage boxes and found my whiskey. The first of many, many bottles.
Life got harder from there. For years I relied on that off-clear bottle of numb. I still got my work done, surprisingly enough, but many noticed how distant I'd become. I heard the rumors, the bitter retorts, the remarks, the scorn... I ignored it all, staying true to my job in the pack. Every night I nursed that bottle until it emptied, then I'd find more in the morning. It became a horrible habit, but eventually it lost its original luster. One bottle wasn't enough anymore.
Not enough. I can feel it settling in now, that numb feeling of the third bottle. I'm halfway done my fourth now. My fourth bottle tonight. Whiskey. Shawchert... why can't I get him out of my head!? He haunts me. It's like living inside my own personal hell, tormented day-in and day-out by his memory. One more drink... just a little more. He'll go away tonight. So then.. why am I still staring at this old picture of him? I remember finding it in his house, painted by a concerned friend... just a small portrait, but still so true to life. Gods... I... I'm sorry.. Shawchert... Forgive me, please.
...Just one more swig. One more. That's it. I promise.
Everything's so messed up now. Even as I feel sleep pulling at me, it's strangely numbing. I have... I have this sick feeling. I don't hear their voices anymore. I've tried to stand, but my bed is just so... so comfortable... right now. God your eyes were beautiful, Shawchert. I never told you, but I could always tell what you were thinking by your eyes. You were an open... an open book to me...
...one more, just to numb the pain.
...but there's none left. The bottle's... empty...
...it's daytime, but the room... is dark... cold... is it winter already? No, wait, that's not right... the trees... are... green. Shawchert... I can almost hear your heartbeat... but you're dead. How... how is that...?
...nevermind. It's my imagination... right? I think I need some sleep. I'll... I'll just lay down now, rest my eyes a bit... the bed is so comfortable. It hasn't been this inviting in years. Not since you were still sleeping here. I feel so tired. Shawchert... can you hear me, my beloved?
I never stopped loving you. I felt betrayed, but I was confused. I'm so, so sorry, my dearest love. I never... meant to hurt you. Please, don't... don't hate me... don't... don't leave me alone anymore. I need you... I miss you... I love you.
...Shawchert...
...Goodnight, my beloved.
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