Chapter 61 Forgotten Chords

• DANTE
• I lay sprawled across the bed, still in yesterday’s clothes, stiff and sour against my skin. The same ones I’d passed out in, clinging like the shame I hadn’t bothered to wash off. My shirt stuck to my chest, soaked with stale sweat and the sour stench of whiskey. Empty bottles circled the bed like forgotten landmines, sharp-edged reminders of how far I’d sunk. Last night was a blur. Just fragments of sound and firelight. Liquor. Regret. Silence too loud to ignore.
• The curtains stayed closed, sealing the room in thick, gray stillness. The kind that weighed on your shoulders. I drifted in and out of sleep, chasing nothing but the next blackout. Her memory lingered like smoke in my lungs, bitter and burning. Pressing against my ribs until every breath scraped. Marisol. Always her. Even now. Especially now.