trans_9 | Alcohol, the alternative to feeling like myself

The world was busy, and so fast. Always moving faster then Orc could move, or think. It seemed like life was passing in the slow solid blinks of his beady little eyes.

Ever since Howard's death he didn't feel as compelled to be useful. To take care of himself. What was the point really? They were all going to die sooner or later. And it's not like he deserved that second chance Howard was always going on about.

Howard...how long had it been? Between the drinking and Stacy's own peculiar grasp of time he had lost track.

But it didn't matter. All that mattered was forgetting. Forgetting where he was, forgetting what he was. Forgetting about Howard, Betty, home.

And so he kept drinking. And he kept moving. To stay in one place for too long risked trouble. People finding him, feeling bad for him. They were just being nice. But he didn't deserve nice. Not after what he'd done.

The city was perfect for this because there was so much of it. He didn't move fast, and he got tired easily. But he had plucked the beertree clean and drug a cooler with him. One of Howard's last gifts. Maybe Howard had more beer in the warehouse...he would have to stop there and see.

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Ian shrugged and said, "So what? So am I." It was an effort to keep his voice calm, but he was sure that Orc wouldn't notice that, given the amount he'd had to drink.

Well that gave him a pause. "Oh yeah?" Orc grumbled half disbelieving. Then again Stacy had saved him so why wouldn't Stacy save other murderers?

"Yes," he replied, not particularly wanting to tell Orc the details. "It's not an easy thing to live with, but you have to live with it. You can't keep drinking to block it out."

"Why not?" It seemed to work for him this far. And it doubled as a way of slowly killing himself in guilt. It was two birds with one Keystone. ~~rimshot~~

It was a good question, but a hard one to answer. "Because it won't work forever. The more you drink the more you get used to it and then you need to drink more to have the same effect. Enough of that will kill you and you'll never have had the chance to atone for what you did."

Orc chuckled a gruff, bitter sad sort of laugh. Ian had hit the nail on the head really. But atonement never seemed possible.

"What could I possibly do? No amount of atonement will bring them back."

"No, it won't. There's nothing you can do to bring them back." Ian was tempted to see if there was any alcohol left in Orc's stash, but thought he'd better not. "What do you think is a suitable punishment for what you did?"

Orc had to think about that one for a long while. "Murderers go to hell." He pointed out as if that was much of an answer.

He smiled at Orc's answer, correct as it might be. "Not if they atone for their sins," he pointed out. "But I meant punishment in this life."

Alcohol, the alternative to feeling like myself

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