\\We are al(l)one// English

His arms

David stood outside on a balcony, one of his beloved cigarrets between his fingers. As he inhaled the dangeours smoke he looked up to the night sky and it's stars. His hands were wrinkly from the water he had used earlier to clean his room.

Over the past weeks I've noticed that he had a pretty strong obsession with cleaning. He cleaned everything, from his desk up to every little corner in his room. Every time he was done, he would start all over again and thought of new ways and techniques to clean.
It almost seemed like he wanted to get rid of something that has happened in this room- maybe another little event of his past.

He turned around and looked me in the eyes. I scanned his body. Every time I looked at certain parts of his body I could see and feel what had happened.

When I looked at his arms I saw all the fights that caused the scars. All the fights he had fought because someone didn't pay for the drugs they've bought from him. He would punch them until they got him the money and if not he punched them until they couldn't do anything anymore, until they were dead. It's not like he needed the money. In fact he probably had too much of it. At least for a person in his state. He not only sold the drugs but he took them. And the money he got from selling wasn't doing him any good cause he was able to afford to take them himself. 

And that lead David into the deep hole of addiction. Mostly alcohol but also other substances.

His actions were followed by consequences.

Conclusion: The scars weren't only from the fights but also from drug abuse. The little dots on his hands were from needles he had used.

Next: His hands.