Legion

by Mochas Dungeon

Chapter 1

He groaned and opened his eyes, the ceiling was what graced his view. His head ached, his back stung, and his senses were screaming for him to do anything to make it go away.

The taste of bile and various vegetables filled his mouth and snout; making his groaning more unpleasant was the burning sensation along his chest. Every deep breath made him winney softly until he took in where he was.

On his coffee table in his living room, laying on several alcohol bottles that were full the evening before, or maybe the day before?

Some clinked to the floor and others made the sound of broken glass as they hit the floor, the thought ran through his mind of exactly how much was imbedded in his back this time.

He rolled to his right, falling to the floor with a heavy thud, forcing the air from his lungs with a pained moan.

He placed his left hoof firmly on the floor and forced himself up, trying to think of why he needed to rise in the first place. Sleep, even though he didn’t feel anything from it, was better than being awake.

The sound of a bottle breaking made him snicker as he placed his other forehoof down, followed by his rear legs. Pain throbbed in the pad of his hoof as he took a pace and nickered at the dull but anoying throb.

He stumbled to the left, his flanks falling to the floor as the room twisted. He focused his eyes at the coffee table to his right; a small pile of white and yellow powder. He sighed with a smile and leaned toward it, his left hoof rising instinctively as he fell forward.

His head collided with the coffee table.

Some of the powder spilled to the floor in front of him. As some blood wept from the wound on his forehead; he ignored it and pushed his nose to what he could, snorting loudly from the wooden floor.

His head buzzed and he felt his sinuses burn as he sighed and forced himself up again, looking at the small drops of blood on the floor from his wounds.

“Ugh, buck my hoof in the plot hole.”

He ignored walking on his injured hoof and hobbled ahead, aiming at the kitchen. He felt his focus rising as he made his way, trying to remember why he had to wake up.

His back itched but knew better than to scratch it, sending more glass deeper into his back, again, would just upset the doctor.

He heard the rushing of water as he reached the kitchen and looked at the sink.

“Bucking thing’s off. What’s the water… Oh,” he finished as he felt warmth on his right rear leg. Shrugging his self urination off he continued to the sink and turned on the water.

“Cold as… something cold,” he mumbled as he put his injured hoof under the water and groaned again.

“Stupid glass, gotta start buying, not glass.”

A few minutes passed, feeling like an eternity, but really only a few seconds for him, he heard a pounding on his apartment door.

He turned and hobbled quickly to the door, cracking it open and looking out to the mare looking at him with concern.

“Ev, are you alright? I heard a lot of noise, some glass and… You’re bleeding again, can I help you?” she asked as he turned away to look at his apartment. Spartan and messy, urine and a small pile of feces in the corner.

Various drugs scattered around and alcohol containers, mostly nearly completely drained, across the floor around his couch.

“No, ah, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, um, if you need me,” she said hesitantly, “I’ll be right across the hall.”

“You’re ugly. I’m drunk. I can stop drinking,” he said as he slammed the door loudly and turned back to his sink.

He almost made it before turning and laying on the floor by the kitchen drawers. He laid his head down and felt sleep tugging at him as he fought to stay awake.

“More snuff, stay awake.”

He moved and began to vomit, slipping and landing his chest in it as he retched several times, mostly liquid, before giving up and falling asleep, whimpering. He knew what dreams would come, the nightmares, the memories.