Atlas
My head felt like it had been split open with an axe when I woke up the next morning.
A low groan escaped my lips as I forced my eyes open, the morning sunlight stabbing straight through my skull. Every pulse behind my temples reminded me exactly how much whiskey I’d drowned myself in last night.
“Damn…”
I rubbed a hand over my face and sat up slowly. I looked around only to see that my room was a complete disaster.
There were empty bottles littered on the floor. One of the chairs had been knocked over and the desk at the side looked like it’d survived a hurricane.
What the f**k was this?
And to make matters worse I barely remembered any of it just like always.
The last thing I could really recall was locking myself inside this room after Vivienne’s trial, pouring one glass
