South 4

I knocked on Jace's door. He didn't answer, but his car was home. I knew where the spare key was because I'd seen him use it one time when I dropped him off late. Letting myself in slowly, I could smell something pungent in the carpets and the furniture, like neglect mixed with salt. None of the lights were on, so everything was bathed in a black and bone colored dust. I saw him on the floor with his back to me, some pictures scattered about him and orbiting the spilt/empty vodka bottle clutched in his hand. I inched closer, quietly, into the dark and thick room.
"Jace?" I whispered. Nothing from him. When I was close enough to touch him, I bent down and shook his shoulder. Still, nothing. I saw what was in the pictures.
I recognized Jace from one, two, three years ago in the photographs. What I didn't recognize was the who beside him in every paper square: brunette, short, large facial features and small breasts supported by an average waist and a*s. In every picture I couldn't help but be drawn by the smile he wore. In some he was happy with the camera; in others he was aiming his teeth at her; and in one, the only one touching him, he was kissing her.
I was disgusted, shocked, hurt and dragged down by betrayal. My face burst into flames. My hands shook. My eyes were singed by passion. There he slumbered, the creator of all my hopes and dreams, snoring in a puddle of alcohol and memories of happiness while I stood stupidly over him. I bet he felt smug knowing how slickly he'd lied to me. He probably was thinking about how easily manipulated I was when he lied to me about homework over the phone. I became furious.
"Jace!" I pulled his shoulder hard, and he rolled dumbly onto his back. "Jace WAKE up!" I could see him breathing but he wasn't answering me. Was he seriously trying to f*****g trick me again? "JACE!" I slapped him with a hand fueled by as much pain as it delivered. "Wake up you son of a B***H!" I shouted some more, shook even more than that, cried more than anything else. I was so overwhelmingly disappointed that I couldn't help but take out my frustration on Jace. I couldn't easily accept his actions, his lies to me. Swallowing the fact that he had a lover this entire time was like swallowing all of that vodka; it was disorienting, hot and painful, and made my blood angry. Finally he woke up.
"Tar-.." his voice was like the air on a humid summer day. "Taryn?..." That name, that witching curse of a name. My eyes grew with my rage.
"It's GARRET!" I yelled within inches of his half-open eyes. He tried to say something, but vomit stopped him. I fell back on my hands while spurts of bile and foam erupted from the black gorge below his nose. His chest started jumping, his gut heaving, his breath dying. When he went completely still, all of my anger suddenly froze in icy shock then thawed into liquid fear.
I rushed over to him and once again got no answer from him, but this time even his lungs weren't home. Panic took over my own windpipe, and I began dragging him outside. My arms ached when I got to his car. I hadn't driven my own. I was an idiot, I needed his keys. It took me a whole eternal minute to find them in his house on the floor. Quickly I got his limp body into the back seat, making sure his mouth was pointed to the floorboards.
"S**t s**t s**t s**t," I couldn't stop swearing as I started the car. I peeled out of the parking lot, speeding away to the hospital, driving with shaky hands and a shaky heart.