Scarsdale – part 3: Morning hangover

Morgan’s eyes opened suddenly to the sound of a klaxon next to his bed. His hand fumbled on the dark wood nightstand that was next to his bed. His hand chased the alarm clock until it fell to the floor. Instead of sitting up and turning the damn thing off, he just let it set there blaring it cacophonous notes. Every time it rang, the vice on his head tightened. Only once the pounding and throbbing of his head became intolerable did he sit up.

His foot struck an object and Morgan heard it hit something under the bed. He looked down and saw the top half of a bottle of Jack sticking out from under the bed. That explained his headache. He had succumbed to the temptation again. What was that? The fourth time this week? Everything had become such a blur, he cannot even remember his failures anymore.

Morgan stumbled his way into his filthy white tile bathroom. He kicked a dirty pair of jeans to the side and stood before the porcelain throne and glared down. The partially digested remains of last night’s dinner stared back at him. He flushed it before his stomach could react and forced him to add to it. After a long moment, all that remained was a reddish ring at the water line.

He took care of his business and found himself assaulted by icy water in the shower. He nearly screamed as his body jerked in response. It gave him a brief sense of being awake but the sensation did not last. Slowly the temperature increased until he became comfortable. He felt himself doze as the warm beads of water traced down his back.

After what felt like not being long enough, he turned the water off and grabbed a towel from the rack; it was fresh yesterday. He dried himself off and tossed the towel onto the floor next to the jeans. He made his way out of the shower and in front of the mirror. Water spots speckled the fog covered mirror. He reached up and opened the medicine cabinet. He took a small white bottle from inside and popped it open. He took a couple capsules from the bottle and tossed them in his mouth.

Rather than put the bottle back, he sat it on the sink. He studied the sink. It had layers of soap, toothpaste, and shaving cream encrusted on it. Lines of white and pale blue converged towards the black hole in the center. He shook his head and went back into the bedroom.

He found his cell phone buzzing. He picked it up and looked at it. Someone from the department was calling him.

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