Cold Hearted Killer

He felt sick and his head was pounding. He'd already thrown up twice and was not any more relieved. Her words were stamped onto his memory and he couldn't let them go. As they flashed in and out of his consciousness he became ill again and ran to the bathroom. When he returned he laid down on his bed exhausted. His eyes began to well up and her words resounded yet again through his head. He thought through his responses, "No it is not a bad joke. Yes, I mean everything. Ok? Ok. Goodbye." That's how one changes from a first love to a first heart break. He was there for her no matter what and now he was abandoning her when she had no one else. What did she do to deserve it? She didn't do anything. She was the same person he loved. He still loved her contrary to what his rational told him. His body knew it and he was ill again.

Days passed and the lump never left his throat.  His existence was more focused around her now than it ever had been before.  He thought about her all day and then dreamed about her at night.  He couldn't work.  He couldn't have fun.  She was haunting him.  It didn't matter that he had purged her life from his, her ghost was following him everywhere. 

Weeks passed and he was drunk.  He wasn't sure how long he had been drunk but he knew what he wanted, another drunk stupid girl.  It didn't matter that when he laid next to other girls he only thought of his past.  The first act was selfish and every act from then would be too.