The delirious man strode up and down in the room, oblivious to all else around him. The snow beleaguered town outside was a non-existant reality. His world was confined to the little room, littered with torn crumpled bits of paper, the dying fire in the hearth, and the drugs.
The drugs…in a rage the man whipped around and snatched up a diary from the overcrowded table. The page opened to the date 19th August. There was only one single word written on the page. Alice.
Alice…the name…19th August…
He could see it so clearly…her cruel lips, her cold blue eyes…they were the same eyes whose infinite depth had led him to her; her lips were what he had found comfort in…
“IT IS A LIE!”, he screamed. ” IT WAS ALL A LIE! SHE WAS A LIE!!!”
The man was breathing hard. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. Lies…lies…lies…lies… The whispers grew louder by the moment. He screamed out in wild despair, and ripped at his hair.
His eyes swivelled around the room wildly, and rested on the shelf in the corner. It was stacked with bottles of drugs.
“My beauties,” he whispered. He took a step towards the shelf, then froze. On the dusty shelf was a very familiar picture, of a woman. His arms around her. The scream of rage that escaped his lips was not human.
The flashbacks, which had left him, just for a moment, rushed back again, slapping him hard against the face. He felt himself drowning again. 19th August…a high, hard laugh…
“Pain demands to be felt,” was all he could manage, before the demons got him. Again.