drunk or high? {patrick melrose}

p

patrick;

the bottle of jack smashed into shards as memories fade over me, not realizing i had actually dropped the bottle i cursed 'fuck' underneath my breath.

trying to give up drinking and drugs at the same time is pretty hard.

i've decided to try and quit heroin, for now at least. 

i don't reckon, it's going to last much longer. i'm driving myself insane.

fuck do i need another drink. i haven't been this pissed in a long time.

that was a lie, it was only yesterday.

at least it's a personal record.

the cupboards downstairs are fucking bare and i haven't eaten in about 3 days, fuck me. 

i open my underwear drawer to find about $10,000. now, it's time for another trip to new york. then i'll finally stop. 

! n e x t ! m o r n i n g ! 

banging headache, just what i need, cunt.

sometimes i'm so stupid; scratch that, most of the time.

the drive to the heathrow airport wasn't that long, waiting for the ticket was fucking agonizing. killing myself would have been faster, to be honest. 

i snatched the ticket out of the male workers hand when he handed it over to me, shooting a hackey along with it. he turned his back and muttered some form of "fuck off,"

"go fuck yourself, silly selfless prick, get a fucking grip," 

what? it just slipped out; i guess.

ah, a plane to catch. 

fuckers could at least hurried up a little. it leaves in half an hour and the queue is bound to be as long as my dick. f u c k s  s a k e. 

! p l a n e ! r i d e !

closing my eyes is probably the most haunted thing i could ever do. painful memories refurnish my mind and without comprehending a clear, salty, liquid falls out of my eye and rolls down my cheek.

my father has well and truly, totally fucked up my life. bastard.  

i don't even think i could class him as my father. 

the person to my left tapped my shoulder and asked if i was feeling alright and if i needed any assistance.

i just nodded my head in response at first and then said that 'i was going through a hard time'.

it isn't a lie; but then again it's not entirely true either.

so fuck, this flight just needs to hurry up and get over with. 

"yeah thanks, i'll have a nicolas feuillatte," i had shouted at an air hostess, who was walking past with a trolley and hopefully she heard.

she stook her index finger and mouthed the words 'one minute' and carried on walking to another passenger.

the rester flipped down with a quick flick of my wrist and laid my elbows on it, with my head in my hands. this is going to be a long flight. shit on it.

"hello sir, how are you?" the flight attendant asked. 

"very well darling," i fake smiled.

"you ordered champagne?" she questioned.

"your very finest, my love" this conversation is making me feel physically sick. unless that just withdrawal symptom kicking me in my fine ass again. 

"is that a glass or a bottle you would like?" i laughed on the inside at the stupid questions, obviously i wanted the bottle. hello, my name is patrick fucking melrose.

"hmm, i would enjoy the bottle please," another smile falsely flashed towards the pretty, young, make-up caked whore.

"very well sir, i'll be a minute or two,"

i sighed; another choice of suicide popped up in my head,

fucking withdrawals. 

a sharp pain in my stomach,

fucking withdrawals.

crippling discomfort,

fucking withdrawals.

"here you go," the man on my left said as he nudged me, handing me my champagne and a half - pint, plastic glass.

"don't touch me, pervert," the man was immediately taken back and shocked. i still had a right to say it though, he's at least 20 years older than me.

i got my bottle and cup, threw the cup somewhere behind me and tried to make a champagne shower. well deserved. 

all though, i just ended up like i was wanking off a homeless dude for speed. which wouldn't surprise me if i had done that before. 

downing about half a bottle of champagne doesn't go down very well.

it only felt like 10 minutes but it was probably about 2 hours later. the bottle and the one after that and the one after that had disappeared, the seatbelt light above my head flashed and the co - pilot told us that we were in landing. 

yes! nearly here!

an unsteady wobbling and the wheels of the airoplane had hit the floor.

thank fuck for that. 

now, 

5 - 5 - 5 - 1 - 7 - 2 - 6. 

for the best herion in town. here goes nothing.

wc; 828

hope you enjoy;

el