Downhill || 𝘥𝘯𝘧

XVI

// 𝒯𝓌𝑜 𝒴𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒜𝑔𝑜 //

// 𝒢𝑒𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒 //

George tipped his head back, the vile liquid flowing from the bottle and into his mouth, sliding past his tongue and down his throat. It burned like fire in his mouth, but as it settled in his stomach, he could already feel it spreading throughout his body, numbing his mind.

It felt good.

George had never consumed this much alcohol in his life. He had no idea what was going to happen. All he knew was that he felt sad; and the alcohol helped numb his emotions.

Once he drank so much that he thought he might just throw up, he slammed the bottle down on the counter and walked to the living room, phone gripped so tightly in his other hand that his knuckles were turning white.

A week ago, Dream had found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him, so he wisely decided to break it off with her. George was really happy for him. He knew how much that girl had been wearing down his life.

That meant, however, that Dream wasn't around to talk to him. He had nobody. Because of this; and a multitude of other reasons; George was slowly sinking into a deep depression. He never ate. He hardly drank anything other than alcohol.

This was taking a toll on his body, naturally. He didn't have any energy. He had no motivation to do anything other than sit around and sleep. He had no idea what to do, or who to call. He didn't want to be a bother to anyone.

He was sinking into the depression. And the scary thing was; he didn't have any reason to drag himself out.

George threw himself upon the couch and started looking at his phone, eyes squinted and legs dangling loosely off the edge of the couch. He had downed half a bottle of whiskey in the past hour, and  you could say his body was not appreciating it very much.

-

A good hour passed before his stomach couldn't hold it anymore. He made a dash to the bathroom and retched into the toilet, eyes screwed shut with the vile taste of alcohol mixed with stomach fluids.

Once he was sure every drop of food he ever consumed had been hurled up and into the toilet, he leaned back against the bathtub, hair sticking to his forehead and tears streaming involuntarily from his eyes.

He stared up at the light above his sink, vision spinning. The only sound to be heard was his breathing, coming in short gasps and hiccups.

There was no telling how long he sat there; could have been ten minutes, or maybe it was two hours. George had no idea.

Eventually he gathered enough strength to get up. He flushed the toilet and exited the bathroom, walking to the living room and collapsing on the sofa, instantly falling asleep.

-

When George finally woke, the windows were void of light and the TV was running some random show in the background. He blinked open his eyes and instantly grimaced. His stomach was the definition of empty.

He forced himself to sit up. His body felt weak and dizzy. He watched himself in a sort of out-of-body experience as he stood and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a jug of milk.

He filled a bowl with cereal before pouring milk over the top. Cereal was about the only thing he thought he might be able to keep down.

He carried the food back to the living room before glancing down at himself and noticing that he had vomit on his shirt. He gagged and pulled the shirt off over his head, throwing it weakly across the room.