Blankets sprawled all over the bed and empty cans of alcohol in between them giving the room an aroma only found in beer halls. Amongst this grotesque mess was the limp but alive body of Michael Sterling. Motionless except for the slight expansion of his chest with every gentle breath he took. As the light gently made it’s way into the room, through the crevices between the curtains. There he was slowly waking up, with an ear splitting headache disorienting him as to the location of his surroundings. He sat up on the edge of the bed hands held to his face. He tried to get up but he was drained he didn’t have the strength. Flipping through the events of last night he kept coming up to gaps in the timeline. He was overcome with anger when he remembered bumping into his girlfriend with some other guy.
It was as if he had dreamt about it but he knew it had happened. She was out there on dance floor, body to body with a guy he didn’t know. Yet just a few minutes ago she had texted him goodnight because she was sleeping early. He in turn had told her he was out of town for the weekend. It’s funny the way fate had intertwined their paths on this night. Eyes fixated on them as their bodies connected and moved together in an expression of untamed lust, he saw emotions in her eyes he thought were only reserved for him. Tears began building up in his eyes from a mixture of anger and sadness. He fought off the urge to approach them and went right to the bar to drown himself in alcohol.
“Fuck” he curses out loud and he’s back in the present, finally getting up to take a look in the mirror before heading for the kitchen. His aching jaw reminds of a fight he got involved in and telling from the pain it was one he clearly lost.
In the mirror he realizes he has a swollen lip and the whole left side of his face is bruised up. The clothes he has on from last night are absolutely filthy, he could be mistaken for just another homeless bum. Reaching the kitchen he hastily makes a cup of coffee, as more and more memories of the previous night return to him. Deciding to check for pictures and to make calls to the people he was with, Michael frantically searches for his cell phone around the rooms. Only to find it in his back pocket with a shattered screen. He screams a couple of more unsavoury words to himself in more of disappointment rather than anger. Now half way through the cup of coffee, Michael’s finally fully awake.
Opening one of the cupboards he grabs a container for asprin and he palms two pills swallowing them dry without any water. Slowly the banging in his head reduces to a soft knocking, now from the moment he woke up he finally has his first lucid thoughts. He wanders aimlessly into the lounge and only a step into the room, his coffee mug slips from his grip or maybe he simply let’s it go and it shatters on the floor.
There’s no attempt to save it or any motion from him as burning hot coffee is splattered all over his bare feet. What Michael sees leaves him beyond disbelief. You know when your mind is unable to process something and all you do is stand there staring in silence. His throat immediately dries up and it feels like a thorn is stuck in his oesophagus, as soon as he tries to swallow saliva he regurgitates it….
-To be continued