memoirs of a private detective: volume 1

by Inkwell_the_writer_horse

Chapter 3: "home, sweet home"

The building was tall, too tall, my head was still spinning and the sensation of vertigo this place gave me wasn't helping. I felt alienated. The sun was begining to rise and the golden glint coming off of the apartment complex made it seem beautiful, but this place was ugly, I knew that for a fact.

The rooms inside were home to murderers, drug dealers and me, scum, nothing but scum. I opened the door and crept in, it sounded like it always did, crying, screaming, miscellaneous sounds of pain and suffering, I used to try and help them, the criers, the screamers, but too late I realised that these peole were beyond saving, their paths were set in stone, and I couldn't change that.

The stairs never seemed so impossible to traverse, every step seemed rugged and uneven. It was a mountain walk to get to my crappy, one room apartment.

After an eternity, I came to a familiar looking door, green chipped, paint and three corroding numbers "three two three"

I fumbled for keys until I realised a well placed kick could send the door wide open, it was one of the reasons I never kept anything of value in here, the other being that I had nothing of value anyway.

The room had an aura of filth, bottles of cheap whiskey and vodka lay dormant throughout the apartment, some empty some half empty, I wasn't proud of my home, or myself, but I was willing to do anything to get me through the day. I grabbed the half empty bottle of whiskey and the three loose painkillers off of the small table by my front door and began to rest on the large recliner chair that resided in the centre of the room, facing the large, cracked window. Without thinking, I threw the three painkillers in my mouth and washed them down with a long, drawn out, swig from the large glass bottle in my hooves.
When I stopped to take a breath the bottle was empty, and the painkillers were kicking in.

My head fell back and the bottle of whiskey slipped through my grasp, dropping to the floor with a satisfying thud, lulling me to sleep as I remembered how it all started, how I got here, and why I wished the drugs would kill me.