"What good is money if I rely on the poor to help me?" -C.T

I couldn't do it.

I was falling into that bottomless pit again.

The wall that I built eight years ago was crumbling, breaking apart and the sad thing was that I could do nothing about it. 

I didn't know how I found myself in front of that bar.

"Go home, Pierre," I threw out in an emotionless voice as I closed the door to the limo. "You're no longer needed," I could hear the gears in his head turning due to confusion. He was wondering why I had said nothing the whole entire ride here. "Just go," I softly snapped, not having it in me to raise my voice. 

I didn't say anything else, but I just dragged myself inside the bar, the lifeless night above me doing nothing to dispel the immense pain that was eating away inside me. 

"What can I get for you?" The same bartender that I saw the other night greeted me as I sat down, trembling in the seat. "Your strongest," My voice probably sounded loud to me, but it was a soft whisper to him and he gave me a strange look before obliging with my request. He slid me a cup of something clear and I wasted no time downing it.

"Another please," I croaked out, feeling a tear leave my eye. I couldn't believe that I was letting my lips touch some cup that wasn't sterilized for 24 hours, but the worst called for it. I could feel my head lolling around as another glass was placed in front of me. Like the first, I drunk it so quickly, wanting to not feel the way that I did at the moment. "Another," I whispered, chuckling to myself as the world started spinning before me. I could feel my insides sloshing around as the bartender hesitantly passed me a refill, the burning taste stinging my throat as it smoothly glided down. 

"One more," I slurred, feeling that tinge of pain making its way. I couldn't control the tears that escaped my eyes. "I just need," I gurgled at the use of alcohol, a drink I probably hadn't had in about three years. "I just need to get rid of this feeling," I pointed to my heart, staring teary-eyed at the bartender.

"Aren't you a friend of Joaquin's?" The bartender said, but I couldn't hear him. The sound of the bar music was drowning out the sorrow-filled gasps that I was letting leave my mouth unconsciously. "I'll call him," The man turned to walk away and I put my head on the desk, more and more tears just coating the counter. 

With each sip of the alcohol, my taste buds dulled and I was pushed further and further into that black hole. There were no words to describe the wound that Christine just opened up. 

I was doing fine before she came. But now that she challenged me head-on, forcing me to confront what I had been trying to avoid, it was hard to keep hold of my anchor. It was hard for me to keep control when I kept letting go.

"Do you think that it's normal to a-," I hiccuped, unable to see straight as I spoke to whoever I was looking at. The lights were merging together and I couldn't keep my eyes open. "Always feel like a failure?" I whined at no one in particular, wanting someone to just hold me. I couldn't even think straight, a puddle inside of my head spilling out. 

I wanted to say that I knew how to feel, but right now, the only thing that I could feel was immense hatred. "Hafta stop," Stop what? I didn't know. 

"Cheyenne, what the hell is up with you?!" I felt a hand grip my shoulder and I let out a giggle, lolling my head up. "Who'z tha?" I cringed as the music got louder, seeing someone plain and boring standing over me, brown eyes tinged with concern and care. "...it's Joaquin," I felt my body being turned around to face him, but it felt like I was floating on air. 

"Ya funny lookin'," I giggled, more tears just wetting my face. "How long has he been like this?" I heard that raspy and deep voice pipe up. "He's been like this for the past 30 minutes. Man seems to have a lot on his mind," Someone else spoke and my eyes kept opening and shutting. "Okay, thanks for calling me. Here's money for his tab," I heard the smoker speak again and all of a sudden, I found myself being hoisted up by my waist.

"Try to walk on your own two feet, Cheyenne," A thick arm was wrapped around my waist and I let my head fall down, whimpering as I stumbled across the bar. "Are you a lightweight?" Joaquin asked and I mumbled incoherent words. "Don' say tha!" The fresh cool air of the night slapped my cheeks as the strong person sat me down on what seemed to be a bench. There was nothing but the sound of the wind, enough to make me go back to my thoughts.

"Did you always have an accent?" I could tell through my drunken faze that Joaquin was trying his hardest to navigate this situation and I smirked brokenly, unable to control the tears. 

"I'm from Tamarama," I croaked out, unable to tell which of my hands were left and right. Joaquin sighed and sat against the bench, the heat of his leg warming my entire body as it pressed into my knee. "What's going on, Cheyenne?" He muttered quietly and that was all it took.

"W-would you believe me if I said that I hate being me?" I was sure I was just babbling now. "Yea, being Cheyenne Thorn is nice because I'm rich and all, but I hate my father," I confessed lowly, feeling Joaquin inch closer to me. "I hate him because he has never been a father to me since my sister left. He tried to kill me when I protected her from him. He thinks that I should bow and kiss and his feet and be his puppet," I was going all over the place, but I couldn't stop. 

"My sister, Christine, who's 26, left me when I was 16 because s-she had a heroin addiction and my father didn't want her living with us anymore," I explained and he listened intently. I never thought that I'd be in this situation where I was out in the slums of the city, crying with someone who barely knew me, but here I was.

"He had given her the choice to stay or leave, not knowing what kind of evil man he really was. "You see this scar?" I pointed to a brown indent on the side of my neck. "Sterling choked me with all that he had that night. I think he really wanted to kill me," I struggled to breathe, my voice slowly muffling. "And I don't even know why," I wiped my nose free of tears and snot, doom settling in my veins.

"What did I do wrong!?" 

I pounded my feet against the ground, sobbing with all my might. I wasn't sure if there were any more tears, but I just wanted to scream. It hurt. It hurt so much. "My sister finally showed up after all these years, and I don't think she understands just how much hell I went through. I protected her from our piece of shit father and what did she do?" I growled, my senses slowly coming back to me in a garbled mess. 

"She fucking abandoned me, Joaquin." A hollow and empty case of a whisper was uttered into his ear as he reached over, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Come here," Normally, I would detest the fact that he was touching me, but the scent of wood and mint washed over me and I felt at peace. 

"My motha' likes to pretend like everything's okay, but she had no idea but to face reality when she heard me screaming in my sleep every single night since Christine left," My forehead gently collided with his broad chest and I could feel all of my alarms slowly ceasing. "It sucks having nightmares, ya know? I have no one to help me through them," I shuddered, realizing that Tara was the one person who I trusted the most.

And now Joaquin, for some strange reason.

"Ever since she left, Sterling always forces me to do what he wants, take over his chain of hotels, become him," The wind ruffled my hair as the daze of alcohol permeated my body. "But what he doesn't understand is that I just want to be me. I want to have parents that genuinely care for me and want me to succeed in whatever it is that I do. I want my mother to hug me like she used to," I gulped, my lips trembling. "I want my father to smile at me the way that he did when I showed him one of my paintings," That dream was so far off because Sterling was too far gone.

"Ah," I giggled, feeling delirious. "Now you get to see the true reality of the rich and you get to listen to my problems. My, how the tables have turned," I attempted to make a joke of the situation but Joaquin snorted in disbelief and in anger beneath me.

He said nothing but he offered that halo of protection over me and I knew right then and there, he'd never use this against me. He felt it just as much as I did. 

"Most of all, I want to live."

I couldn't even believe myself as those words let themselves be heard. I wouldn't admit it to anyone but despite the number of funerals that I had been to in my life, the greatest loss that I had ever felt was the piece of me that died when I realized my sister nor my father cared about me. Ever since that night, I had changed and I longed to be that Cheyenne that I was before it happened. 

"I guess I'm secretly still holding onto that hope," I sniffled, unable to tell reality from my dreams because everything was blurring together. I could feel the last bit of hope shredding away into dust as I stared into the darkness of my mind. "I know that this life won't change me. I know that nothing will happen but even then," I looked down to my shaking hands, unable to stop the geyser of feelings that were swirling around within me.

"I still hope." I was trying so hard not to cry anymore because I held it through for eight years. I stayed strong despite the many explosions and bombs my wall took. I tensed my body, clenching my fists as it took all that I had not to come crashing down.

"Let it out. I'm here," Joaquin whispered, rubbing his hand through my hair and the wall of the dam cracked, a traitorous sob cracking the silence. "Don't say that," I whimpered with a crack of my voice, my resolve slowly leaving me as he caught me. He held me tightly as tears wetted his shirt, tears that I had been holding in for the last eight years of my life. "You don't understand!" I wailed, grasping at his sleeves, trying to find some semblance of comfort and stability within him.

"I don't," He rocked me back and forth, the sound of his raspy voice lulling me to a calm. "But maybe one day, I will. So don't feel like you have to handle it all," This was so weird because before, I couldn't stand to be in his presence. Now? It was everything that I needed. 

"For now," He cleared his throat and I wasn't sure how much time had passed. "We need to get you home. You're shivering," I followed his gaze down to my arms to see them prickly from the cold air. "O-oh, I didn't notice," I really didn't because I was far too gone in his warmth. Was this what a caring and genuine hug felt like? Kudos to him and Tara.

"I-I don't want to go home," I reached over, eyes blurry with the sting of tears as I clutched his shirt. "Please don't make me go home," I whispered, hearing him suck his teeth with a sigh. "Okay, okay. Just stop with the tears. This isn't like you," Joaquin almost sounded panicked and I stifled a laugh, wondering where this took us. We were heading into new territory as he was becoming someone that knew the reason why I never smiled. He was becoming someone very important.

"Cheyenne, for the record," I growled lowly when I felt his big fingers pinch my cheek as he chuckled, wiping away my tears. I looked into the brown eyes, heat settling into my chest as he smiled at me. 

"You're a lot stronger than you think."