The Prequel, Chapter Eleven

It was an ironically beautiful morning. The sun was shining ever so brightly, the grass was dancing in the breeze, and the sky was as blue as blue could be. If you hadn't known better, you might have thought that everything was well, that nothing terrible had transpired. The tranquility of the day, however, only made Alexander feel guiltier. More sinful. More wretched.

More used up.

As he might have guessed, Alexander's home was dreadfully quiet. They were all gone, looking for him, no doubt. The fact that he probably had made everyone concerned only caused more guilt to fill Alexander's soul, so he did the very thing he knew he shouldn't do.

There was whiskey in the clinic that was adjoined to the house. Thomas kept whiskey solely for medical purposes, never imagining that one day, his son would use it as a means to escape guilt.

As soon as Alexander had found the bottle of liquor in one of the clinic cupboards, he stopped, mind heavy with the depth of foolishness he was about to partake of. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except numbing the emptiness Alexander felt inside.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Alexander cursed himself again and again, hot tears of intense self-hatred threatening to spill from his eyes. I knew better! Would it have been that hard to to resist?

Alexander wasn't ready to face his family. Pretty soon, they'd figure out that Eve had gone missing, too - if they hadn't already guessed as much already. He made sure nobody was around, then slipped out the back door of the clinic and into the woods that surrounded his home.

Eve had already left the rickety old house that had been used the night before. Alexander was relieved to be alone. 

No, Alexander wasn't alone. The ever-present hand of condemnation was there with him, laughing at his remorse.

With a sigh, Alexander opened the bottle of whiskey, his mind spinning with disbelief of what he was about to do. For several minutes, he did nothing - just stared at the open bottle. He could practically hear its whisper...I will make you forget...

Alexander knew that chances were, he had more of a tendency to alcoholism than most. A handful of extended relatives had fallen prey to the hand of addiction - the weakness seemed to run in the family blood. Yet not even this stopped Alexander from raising the bottle to his lips and taking a tentative sip.

The reaction was instantaneous. Alexander began to cough heavily, throat burning. He'd never drunk even wine before in his life, and here he was, about to drink enough whiskey to make him drunk. But soon enough, despite the harshness of the drink, Alexander had accomplished his goal.

All the mistakes of the past hours were forgotten. For now.

The End

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