falling faster
It was one of the rare times that Jeremiah wished he could still smoke cigarettes. He had not been able to since he had gotten flooded with the knowledge given to him by Ezra; the taste on his tongue and throat had been nearly enough to make him throw up.
Instead he was sitting in the living room, his eyes slid shut and a shot glass in his hand. At least a third of the bottle had already disappeared and he looked a mess. Blood was still over one eye, the front of his vest tattered (bloody; ripped with what looked like finger holes).
He had thought himself past this but once in their house, once Jeremiah had been inside, he had crumpled. Failure was not something he liked and-
Another drink was taken.
ashdown
rp guild for the community "ashdown"
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