The Pros and Cons of Living

By TheBrightside

The once proud man stood in his once well-decorated office, nursing a glass of bourbon as he looked out a frost covered window. He glared daggers at the outside world, clenching his glass with tense, callused hands.

Everything felt dead to him. His men most definitely were rotting at the bottom of this disease ridden filth of a place he called home (and, at one point, his empire) and he had been handed the most incompetent, inexperienced young woman to assist him in matters beyond her simple mind's comprehension.

They had been the ultimate case of Mars versus Venus, and he had thrown her out just earlier that night, tired of their disagreements and finally telling her what he felt at that moment: hate. He hated her. He had said he never wanted her, she was a waste of a human, and whatever good she was, he hadn't seen one damn bit of it.

He gave up on the glass and finally decided he was better off just drinking the whole bottle. He had no where to go that night, anyway. Not a home, not a loving wife, not even a secretary who had expressed her concerns for him numerous times, much to his annoyance.

"You should see someone about your drinking problem, Mr. Kal. It isn't doin' ya much good."

He smirked, chuckling softly into the bottle and taking another swig from it, shuttering and regretting doing so afterward, feeling the burning pain in his throat before long.

Had he mentioned he hated everything she had ever said? The moment she opened her blasted mouth he'd wanted to--

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The man jumped slightly, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Knock. Knock.

He rose from the sill, setting the bottle down gently on his desk and staggered towards the door.

When he opened it, he came face to face with the devil herself. Except, she looked different. Maybe it was the bourbon, but the woman with a fire in her eyes earlier that evening who had stormed out of his office with whatever pride she had left was gone now. Before him stood a tiny, sickly thing with make up stained cheeks, mascara running down from her eyes, and a sad glow about her. Her hands were clasped up near her chest, and her body trembled.

"Why you lookin' like that?"

She blinked, surprised by the question. He pushed her shoulder lightly.

"You didn't look like that earlier. What's wrong with you?"

Her lip quivered and she peeked her head inside, eyeing the bottle of bourbon and a knowing look endowed her facial features.

"You're drunk."

The man grumbled, prepared to slam the door in her face at any moment. He didn't need this right now.

"What do you want?" he asked, tapping his large fingers on the edge of the framing of his office's entrance.

"Mr. Kal," she started, making her way slowly inside of the room, pushing passed him. She sat her small, skinny frame on his desk, meekly pulling her torso inward and clasped her hands in her lap, "I--I know you don't seem to care very much for me, but--"

"You know, people used to fear me."

"Sir?" she said, confused by the interruption.

"Yeah, they used to be scared of me. Whenever you said I was involved with anythin' they'd run for the hills, screaming' all the way like the cowards they were. I was the most feared man in this good-for-nothing town. Now, look at me. What's there to be 'fraid of?"

She watched him as he grabbed the bottle of hard liquor beside her and surveyed as he studied it for a quiet, tense moment.

The bottle crashed into the wall and shattered, the liquid oozed down the wall while the millions of broken pieces of glass fell, icily clattering to the floor.

The small being on the desk had jumped at the noise, wrapping her arms around herself in a defensive manner.

He smirked.

"But, you're 'fraid of me," he brought lips to her ear, breathing in it every word, "You're scared I'll hurt ya 'cause you know I don't like you. You keep comin' back though," he backed away, disgusted, "Always comin' 'round tryin' to help. Always wantin' to save this business my father started and basically ended when he pulled that trigger on himself. Maybe you can tell me why he hired you," he moved in close again, pushing his face into hers and grasping the desk on either side of the frail female, "'cause you don't know shit, you don't know me although you think you do, and you're the reason this 'business' went under. You killed my men through your--"

"Stop."

"--through your stupidity. Maybe if you weren't 'round they would be alive instead of bein' raw meat for the sewer rats to munch on--"

"Stop it!"

She kicked him backwards, her body shaking violently as she stood pointing a short, bony finger in his direction as he gripped him stomach.

"Now, look here, Mr. Kal. You can blame me for everything. You can tell me you hate me and you can tell me what a dumb little shit I am; I'm not what you wanted. I may never be what you want. But you see this here now: I'm…I'm all you got, Mr. Kal. You don't have your dad anymore, you don't have Rufus, Freddy, or Terrance no more, your Claire got up and left, and I know you don't wanna see it or believe it, but I'm all you got right now. And, you know what Mr. Kal, you're gonna…g--gonna--"

She choked, falling to her knees in uncontrollable sobs. He blinked, standing there for what seemed like an eternity, watching the only person left from his empire crumble in front of him like the fragile piece of work she was. He bent down to her level and placed his large hand on her bony cheek. She fell forward, burying her head into his shoulder as he wrapped his large arms around her.

She was right; this was all he had left.

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The Pros and Cons of Living

Created: Jun 26, 2010

Tags: drinking, death, bourbon, comfort, help

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