The smell of alcohol makes me unbelievably nauseous. Watching the clear and amber liquids falling down the drain is like watching my savings drain away. The reluctance to dispose of all liquor still lingers deep in my soul and part of me is doubtful that I need to do this. But no matter how many times I tell myself to stop, I can't rely on the liquid anymore. The dependence needs to stop.

Bending down, I pick up the crinkled trash bag and throw the bottles away. The class clinks together, letting me know that I'm actually doing this. I'm actually making a stand and a change to get better. Blowing out a breath, I take a look around my place.

With the light that comes through a crack in the curtains, I can see the dust particles floating through the air. The house is still stuffy, still suffocating, and still lonely. A sigh leaves me as I drop the bag and march to the living room. Gripping the fabrics tightly, I separate the drapes and let the natural light flood my place.

Breathing deeply, I open the window and a gust of air flies in. It's a fresh smell I've forgotten about, yet happily welcome once again.

There's still this aching loneliness being in a large house by myself, but I think being alone might be what I need. At least for now, at least while I'm trying to heal. Either way, living with Chandler is a no since he's recently engaged. Going home to my parents is off the table as well. Other than that, I've never kept friends close enough to crash at anyone's place.

And that's... quite pathetic.

Dropping onto the couch, I lean my head back and sigh. I'm tired and it's not because I've been busy. This has to do with being more than fed up with everything that's happened lately.

Pity, pity, pity. That's all I've been doing to myself lately.

I stand to my feet and walk to my room. The first thing I notice is how much it reeks. Fighting back a gag, I shake my head and stride over to the window and pull it open as far as it'll go. Dirty clothes litter the floor after not washing for all this time. I'm just surprised that I actually had the energy to even change.

Shaking my head, I begin to straighten up. While it's not as bad as it could be, a messy room is still a sure sign of depression. For a second, I wonder if I should seek help. It's not been long, but this is still enough time to fall into an abyss which I may never be able to leave. Recognizing that may be a first step, but actually seeking help is what'll heal me.

"Ugh, so fucking dumb," I mumble to myself, now hating any thoughts I have. Everything is still a mess and I could really use a drink right now.

Continuing to clean is all that I can do to get my mind off of any and everything. By the time I finish, everything is put away and I have a load of clothes washing. The stench of stale alcohol and must has faded away. Light filters into the whole house, making it seem more lively than it actually is.

Proud of my work, I fall onto my bed. The sheets still need washing, but that can come later. Closing my eyes, I actually feel good about what I've accomplished. There is still piled up work sitting on one of my nightstands and I'm far from okay, but this is a start.

Just as I'm dozing off, my phone pings. Prying my heavy lids open, I grab the device and read the message.

Wanna grab a drink??

My face screws into surprise to see Freya's name at the top. Licking my lips, I go to reply when another message pops through.

Not actual alcohol, by the way. But something a little more fun.

* * *

"So... milkshakes are your idea of fun?" I ask after sucking in the thick, vanilla-tasting liquid.

Freya shrugs before me, smiling slightly. "Absolutely. They're definitely a comfort beverage of mine. Can't go wrong, you know? Plus, this place has the best milkshakes."

Shaking my head, I can't fight the smile on my face. After we had talked around a week ago, I didn't expect her to ever reach out to me again. Sure, we exchanged numbers, but I was sure it was just to be courteous and polite. But it seems Freya doesn't do things just because.

"It's been a week," I start, my tone light and not trying to imply anything.

"Indeed it has."

Suddenly, I feel like I'm back in high school. I'm nervous and shy, not knowing what to do or say in front of a girl. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I have a crush on Freya, though I don't think that's possible in one and a half meetings. Call me negative, but I don't believe in love at first sight, but I sure am acting like that's what this is.

"How has the week been for you?" Freya asks, fortunately breaking the silence.

"Ah." I scratch the back of my neck. "I cleaned the house today, for the first time since actually moving in, believe it or not."

"And how did that feel?" She tilts her head to the side, smiling.

After licking my dry lips, I return the gesture and smile at her. "Actually, pretty damn amazing. I'm not spiritual or anything like that, but I felt like I was cleansing my soul. I poured out any traces of liquor and let some air into my house. And when I opened my curtains... it felt new somehow."

I can't help but tell her everything that's happening. Speaking to Freya is like speaking to a lost part of my soul. Her brown eyes remain planted on me, though they reveal nothing. Her plump lips stay in a smile when she's not drinking out of her glass. And though her head is tilted and resting in her palm - a usual sign of boredom - I don't feel as if she's mocking me or waiting for the conversation to end.

"Have you thought about talking to someone?"

"I'm talking to you now," I answer her, looking away. Maybe if I play dumb she'll drop this.

She shuffles across from me. "You and I both know you understand what I meant. I can't force you to get a therapist, but I do highly recommend it. I know I talked a big game before about showing your ex that you're doing okay, but it'll be hard to do alone."

Why don't you help me?

The words are on the tip of my tongue. I almost blurt them out. Pressing my lips together, I silently scold myself for not being able to control whatever the hell is going on. And again, I'm back to acting like some kid who's talking to a girl for the first time.

"I've had a passing thought about it," I finally answer seriously. I scrape the table lightly, using it as somewhat of a distraction. "I'll be honest, I've never had to go to therapy before. I've never been in such a situation where I needed it. I wouldn't say my life was perfect, but I've always been content."

Freya nods as if she's just made a discovery. She strokes her chin and stares off. She looks as if she's trying to come up with something to say, like she doesn't know how to handle what just came out of my mouth. When she looks back at me, she raises an eyebrow.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're kind of reminding me of my parents when I was younger. They never really believed in the whole mental health thing, especially not in their daughter." She laughs, shaking her head. "Just like I told them, forget that fucked up mentality. No one is perfect and if you're spiraling, you owe it to yourself to get help."

In an abrupt movement, she gets up and pulls her wallet out. Though we paid at the counter when we ordered the shakes, she takes out a couple of bills and tosses them onto the table. Giving me a look, she motions her head towards the exit. With no questions or hesitation, I follow after her.

The setting sun in the distance meets my eyes as I leave the small diner-like lace. The fiery star is at the perfect place when it's blinding to the eyes and I wish I had bought sunglasses with me. Covering my eyes with my hand, I feel someone grab my free arm and begin pulling me.

"It's such a nice day out, let's take a walk, yeah?" Though I'm still partially blinded, I can just make out Freya's wide smile.

"Yeah... let's."

*Are you guys surprised I actually had another update? Because I am! Anyways, yes, it a bit of a slow start, but it's a story. We gotta let it unravel. What do you guys think will happen next? Please share your thoughts with me and don't forget to vote!*