The Imprint of Free Will
As I was getting ready to leave the manor, I spotted Maria stalking in my direction. Oh s**t. That was my first thought. Did I want to bolt? Hell, yes. Did I want a lecture? Hell, no. Did I have no choice but face the consequences of my drunken actions? Actually, I was resigned to it. My head was fuzzy, my brain was on fire, and I was sluggishly leaning over a low granite table that looked like it was carved from a single piece of stone. The dizziness struck in waves, sometimes slowly, sometimes hitting me like a tidal swell. Holding the side of my head, I muttered: “That’s it. I’m never getting that drunk ever again.” “Jacob Steven Alexander Grey!” Oh… my… f*****g Gods. Did she just government name me? No one used my second middle name. Ever. “Serious, Mar-Mar? I’m not sober enough
- Writer
