Knox
The sound of Gina's voice tickles my senses, and suddenly my imagination fades into nothingness.
I struggle to push myself up from the bed but my arms gave up, and I fall back with a grunt.
“Oh no! my love, are you alright?” she asks in concern.
I can hear the hurried sound of footsteps rushing forward. And then the bed deeps in as Gina sits on the bed.
My hands reaches for her face despite my hazy vision. She holds me gently.
I try to stay sober but my senses were muddled up.
“You're drunk, Knox,” she says, which sounds more like an accusation. “You shouldn't be drinking.”
Gradually, her voice starts to fade away, my eyelids growing heavy. My head tilts to the side and before I know it, I drift into sleep.
When morning comes, sunlight filters through the curtain, warning my
