SMASH. The bottle fell from the kitchen table tiny shards of glass stretched across the hardwood floor like diamonds. Someone let out a low gruff grunt, their arm tucked under a stubbled chin, their eyes lined with heavy eye bags. A soft snore emitted from parted lips. The light flowed through a dirty window that was thick with dust. "Uuuugh" a tired voice came from the crook of the arm. Eyes slowly began to open revealing chocolate brown pupils that slowly scanned the room they were in. Standing up they grumpily made their way toward the bathroom opening the cabinet and reaching for the light blue can of shaving cream and a silver razor.
They gently spread shaving cream over their faces, laughing a tiny bit at the absurd scene, carefully taking out their razor, the sharp blades pressing against their soft skin. They dragged the razor across the skin, leaving a long thin trail on the now hairless skin. Finishing their face and after washing the razor well they opened the cabinet again pulling back a tiny opaque bottle of pills. "Ok Nicky time for your meds," he said to himself, popping open the white cap and shaking it producing two identical red pills. He pushed them into his mouth, shivering slightly at the unpleasant bitter taste. He stared at himself in the mirror shoving the bottle in his pocket before exiting the bathroom. The glass was still spread across the floor but that was a problem for future Nicky to sort out.
The kitchen was a pristine white, freshly cleaned. Throwing open one of the cabinets his hand reached for the jar labelled 'Instant Coffee' opening it only to realise there was no coffee left. "Oh come on!" he barked, slamming his fist down, his eyes landing on the unopened bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. "No Nicky" he shook himself off thinking he didn't need to drink...again he had his hip flask if he needed a little pep in his step. He leaned against the counter "what should I do?" Clicking his fingers he rummaged in the drawer next to him pulling out an old takeaway menu for a local coffee shop that also did breakfast. They had some pretty good stuff but he settled on just a coffee maybe.
Nicky grabbed his wallet, the old creased leather slightly warm. When he saw the green paper poking out from the creased $10 bill, smiling. Gripping his keys in a tight fist he opened the door before locking it behind him. The door was heavy wood that required a few shoves before giving way he needed to get it fixed. He saw the landlady Mrs Johnson who wasn't the nicest to Nicky, after all, he arrived here looking like he had dragged himself off the streets. His clothes were soiled with mud and his hands had engine oil running down them. His car had broken down on the side of the road. His toolbox was on the seat ready to be used. He had popped the trunk, his hands already filthy before he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt digging deep into the still-hot engine.
So, making the short walk to the local shop he opened the heavy glass door and the scent of coffee hit him almost instantly it was almost intoxicating like a drug. "Hello there," a kind-looking woman said to him as he whipped around. Looking at her with tired eyes "hello there" he said back his voice monotone but slightly chipper. Walking to the front of the counter, already digging for his wallet for the money his ID poking out. He gazed up at the menu "can I please have a large black coffee with two pumps of caramel cream?" he asked knowing it was a strange order most people disliked black coffee but he loved it.
The girl nodded and started to write down the order, the sound of a pencil scratching above all the chatter. The cafe itself was quite small with only a few tables and chairs placed around covered with white tablecloths. Flowers in pots set outside the door are red and blue blooming in the early summer. The cafe itself was an old stone building with long trellis of vines and creeping plants climbing up it.
In addition to pouring the caramel into the cup, she poured the steaming black liquid that seemed like an elixir of life at the moment. In his pocket, the lightweight stainless steel container filled with whiskey. He knew it was healthy but drinking helped him forget... as well as the meds his therapist constantly had him on "take this for your PTSD" or "have these for your depression" he didn't need to be coddled or told what to do at certain times of the day Nicky could do it himself he just needed time...yeah time.
"One large black coffee with a double pump of caramel!" Someone called out. Nicky smiled and walked forward, taking the cup in his hand and placing it down on the counter. He undid the lid. He checked around his person before slowly pouring in a touch of whiskey. Not noticing the disapproving eyes of a mother following his every move covering her small child's eyes and acting as if he had just taken a dump on the floor.
"You shouldn't be drinking here!" she said, reeling back in disgust. As her child twisted his or her head to remove the blindfold, she covered his or her eyes. Nicky looked at her with irritated eyes. He closed the hip flask and slid it back into his pocket as he turned his body to face her "If I wanted your opinion in a crappy takeaway cup with a double shot of nagging I would have asked for that".
He turned back to his coffee, stirring it with a spoon. "But I didn't, so I would appreciate it if you minded your own business." The woman made another offended gasp and guided her child to the door yelling and screaming about "the drunk in public!" and that she would be informing the police. The sweet barista came back looking slightly confused. "Don't worry about her she does this all the time" she smiled again "but it would be appreciated if you didn't drink in here sir...sorry" Nicky smiled at her and took a sip of his drink. The caramel took the edge of the whiskey "It's perfectly OK, I probably shouldn't have snapped at her like that and in the future, I'll drink at home" The barista nodded, but she seemed slightly concerned for him in a way that told Nicky should probably leave. He grabbed his cup and left the silver bell above the door tinkling again.
He walked down the street, coffee in hand, the hot sun beating down on the back of his neck. The city isn't usually as busy but it seems like today many people want to get out and enjoy the weather. As families and people on bicycles pedalled their way to and from the city, cars with their windows rolled down passed him. He sat down on a bench making sure it wasn't freshly painted. He spotted a seemingly discarded newspaper next to him, and picking it up he unfolded it.
He then scanned for the headline or something mildly interesting that was scrawled across the top to entertain himself while he sipped his coffee. He scanned the bold letters and said a few simple words. Six simple words that would change his afternoon and possibly his life. They were 'LOCAL WOMEN FOUND DEAD IN RAVEN BROOKS!' Nicky felt the coffee on his tongue go cold. He read the title over and over until he felt as if it was engraved in his mind. Letting the paper drift from his hand, he sat back in his seat, putting the paper down. The papers now crumpled and ruffled "no not again" he said to himself "Not that hellhole".
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FanfictionNicky and the gang have all grown up and have seperate lives now. leaving the trauma of mr Peterson in the very back of their minds but when I murder drags them back to town will they be able to reconcile new bonds and find out who it is or with the...