My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why, I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window. And I can't see at all.
And even if I could, it'd all be grey. Put your picture on my wall.
And it reminds me, that it's not so bad. It's not so bad.

Dido - Thank You

Ken's POV


"Why..." I sobbed, as my right hand grazed lightly across the cool marble counter. The music in the background was blaring, so my cries were barely heard.

"You want anotha one buddy?" the husky man across the bar shouted at me.

"Yeah!" I wept half drunkenly, half filled with self pity. I can't even remember how many nights I had spent at this place. How many drinks I had forced down my throat. How much of the pain had left me.

But the pain always came back. With a vengeance. For only one night, it would disappear, but then it would be back the next morning. And that would leave me begging for another way out.

I wanted nothing more, than for this pain to end. I wanted it to go away. I wanted to return to my perfect world, where nothing ever happened. My bubble world.

But I knew that there was no going back. I was no shoved face first, into the real world. The world where everything wrong happened. The world, where people died. Where people were killed.

The cruel world, where the innocent are tortured and harmed. The one where those, the ones' people trusted, turned out to be the ones that plunge the dagger into your back.

The real world sucked. It wasn't all smiles and sunshine. Because if it were, then real, wouldn't be the world to use.

I hated what was happening to me. Once, one of the most respected people in Japan, now, one of the people that drink away all their problems.

A shooter of something was shoved into my hand, and I welcomed it gratefully. I quickly shoved it in my mouth, and winced as the bitter taste scrapped down my throat.

I winced as the aftertaste stung my tongue, and was left no other choice but to keep asking for more, and more, so it would go away.

That's the way alcohol works I figured. Tasted horrible. Smelled even worse. But it was so addictive. People drank it to wash away their pain.

Another problem with this planet. What kind of person would inflict this world with such a drug? The people who were out to make a profit. A profit on a person's weakness. A profit on a person whose grieving. One who wants to leave it all behind.

"Hey! You over there!" the bartender from across the room bellowed out. Right now, the music was being drown out, and his words were ringing in my ears loudly. Like a drum.

"What?" I stuttered. I found it extremely difficult to talk when 99% of the water in your body was liquor.

"I've seen you here a few times. Hell. Almost every night. So tell me. What happened to drive you to this dump?"

"Hayley..." I muttered numbly. That name. It held so much joy and life and content. But at the same time, such pain and agony, that would drive weaker people to suicide.

"That your ex or something?" he said, jumping over the counter, and sitting in a stool.

The large clock over the dusty mirror had hit twelve. Closing time. The last minute drunks pilled there was out of their haven, and fumbled into their cars.

"No..." I cried, letting the tears fall off my cheek. "She was my whole life. My angel... my little girl..."

"Was?" he asked, pulling out another bottle of brownish liquid. "Divorce?"

"Death..." I uttered, staring down at the small rimmed glass, that he was now filling to the brim.

Without thinking, I drank it down. My head was beginning to feel lightheaded, and everything was blurry. But I was used to it.

"How did she die? Trust me. I've heard it all." he said reassuringly.

"My friend... one of my friends... my wife's best friend killed her... he's crazy... he just killed her for no reason!"

"Shit man. That's not fun. Just when you think, you can trust a guy..."

"I trusted him with her life... and he took it away from her! Just like that!" I laughed, snapping my fingers.

I began laughing insanely, as my head smashed against the counter. Small drops of alcohol hit my hand, which was still pried onto the cup. He was filling it again.

By this time, I was just too drunk to realize when I had 'had enough', so I kept on drinking.

After a short time, everything goes foggy. The only real thing you know how to do, is place the cup down, wait until it's filled, then drink it down.

And it all tastes the same. All are like poison that you can't stop taking. You seem to want to keep on drinking and drinking, until you're drown out the whole world.

Once it's all black, you know you can find peace. But once that sense of peace goes, you become addicted, and you need to keep on feeling it, night after night.

Up until the moment it kills you. But you can only think three seconds ahead of you. You don't think of the consequences, until you're lying in a flaming wreckage, holding onto your life by a thin strand.

I also know that your emotions change. If you were feeling depressed, you're suddenly as happy as a kid in a candy shop. If you were grieving, you just go mad.

You see the world in a whole new light. Nothing can go wrong. Nothing is tainted. Everything has a meaning.

"Hey look. I think you've had enough. I'm gonna take you home okay? You're in no condition to drive."

"But... but..." I stuttered, trying to speak. I wanted to protest by saying you made me like this, but I was having a hard time doing anything, except blinking.

He slid his arm around my waist, and pulled me over to the door. It was still dark out when I stumbled over to my car.

The man opened my door, and placed me in the passenger's seat, before he made his way over to the drivers.

I guess I passed out, because the next thing I remember, was waking up on my bed, just sprawled out.

My head hurt so much. And every sound was amplified a hundred folds. I managed to roll over, and glance at my alarm clock.

It was ten in the morning. I had been out for about nine hours. I groaned as I fully opened up my eyes, letting the soft light hit my eyes.

Everything in the room looked so peaceful. Everything had this basking glow to it. Everything looked pleasant.

"Ken..." Miyako rapped on the door lightly. "Honey. I'm going to go to Joe's funeral now. Okay? Just get some rest, and I'll be back later. I love you."

With that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her. "I love you." her words echoed. I was so lucky to have her.

She made this world bearable. We've shared so much. We've spent so much time together. We've been through it all.

I loved her so much. She was my whole reason for bothering to stay here. I could easily end everything. I could easily drink myself into my death bed.

But I stayed alive, just for her. Just so I could see her beautiful smile. To see her gorgeous eyes shine whenever she's happy.

Hayley was a lot like her in that way. She never had anything evil on her mind. She was so unstained with true evil. And it was amusing. Ever since the day I found out I would be a father, I had tried to imagine her.

Would she be like me? Cruel and heartless. Only loved by those that have broken through my wall. Or would she be like Miyako. Kind, joyful and loved by all who know her.

And she was a mix. The mix of good and evil. Total goodness from her mother, and a burning hate from her father. She just didn't have the time to develop that hate into something wicked.

I heard her car pull out of the driveway, and roll sown the street. She was gone, leaving me time to myself.

The first thing I thought of at that minute, was where the hell is there some wine. I needed a small pick me up.

I literally fell off my bed, and crawled over to where we kept some bottles. Once I had my hand around a tall, slender bottle, I smiled airily.

Once the cork was off, I took a deep sip, emptying almost all the liquid. The flavour was disgusting. Almost like Mr. Clean or something. I could just feel the drink scalding its way down my throat.

I threw the container somewhere. The shatter indicated that it broke, and when the streams of liquid were felt under my fingertips, I knew that it had.

I staggered in for another, my wet hands come in contact with a familiar form. A bitter smile twisted onto my face as I pressed the bottle against my lips.

The beverage was so refreshing. So warm. So ordinary, almost natural. And I began laughing again.

I had no clue why I was laughing this time, but something was obviously funny to me.

Instantly, I found myself on my own two legs. I took a drunken step forward, and collapsed. I laughed even harder.

As I tried to prop myself up, I slipped on some of the alcohol, and skidded helplessly to the ground. My chin coming in contact with the hard wood.

My hand. The one I had tried to pull myself up with, started to sting agonizingly. It was almost as if someone had lit a fire underneath it.

I pulled it up quickly, and moaned. I had sliced it open on a shard of the glass, and the alcohol was getting into the wound.

Blood was dripping slowly down my arm, as I watched it amazed. It was so slow, yet so fascinating.

I smirked again, as I as rolled over onto my back, and sat up. "I have to see Miyako..." I muttered, as I wobbled over to my bedroom door. I wasn't still used to walking on my legs, and had to use the walls of our home as my crutches.

As force of habit, I reached out and grabbed my car keys from the small hook they were on, and fumbled out the door, almost colliding with our mailbox.

I don't really remember much after that, and it's still a mystery to me how I got in the car, and how I started it.

But I do remember the utter thrill I had driving. I felt like a God. Like nothing could destroy me. I was unstoppable.

Everything just made me feel powerful. I looked out the window, not seeing anything but blurs of what should have been trees, but since my vision was blurry, everything almost looked crystal clear.

A sudden wave of dominance swept through my body, as I jabbed my foot down on the gas, soaring through the quiet road side.

I was me again. I was the Ken that everybody had known. I was the Ken that didn't give a shit about others. Only looking out for one person.

I was the me that existed before I had fallen in love. And I liked this me. I liked being in control. I liked having power.

But most of all, I love playing God. I loved the thrill I got from toying with all those around me.

My vengeful laughter rang through my car. I was convulsing with laughter. And then I passed out again. I didn't even feel the impact from the car I hit. I didn't even care that I sent someone spiralling into a tree. The alcohol wouldn't let me.

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