Twenty Two
Twenty Two
Roman threw his keys down on the dresser. The sound of the metal hitting the veneer and streaking across the surface was shockingly loud. He jerked his shoulders and let the jacket fall to the floor. He unscrewed the bottle of whiskey and took a swig tugging at the bottom of his shirt with his other hand. He set the bottle down and pulled the tee shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. He picked the bottle up again and fell down on the bed and hit his head on the headboard.
“Fuck!” he growled rubbing his hand back and forth briskly across his pounding skull.
He took another swig of whiskey swallowing a quarter of the bottle. The sky was dead black besides the moon which had a ghostly halo around it foretelling the approaching snow. The room had a soft pale blue glow from the neon sign drifting through the window. It stunk of dust and old carpet. He had no idea where he’d go. He didn’t want to go anywhere. He picked up the remote control that sat beside the bed and turned the television on. The plastic felt sticky in his hands. He didn’t want to know why it was sticky. He took another mouthful from the bottle and set it down on the night stand. He blindly switched through the channels completely unaware of what he saw. His mind still raced going over all that had happened, watching her walk away with Lux, feeling the witch’s neck in his hands begging to be broken. He picked the bottle up again and drank some more then turned the TV off and threw the remote across the room at the wall shattering it into a dozen pieces. He looked over at the nightstand and saw the wrapper and still full cup of soda. He slumped down onto the bed resting the bottle on his chest and he shut his eyes.