By the time the evening was over, and he was calling it a night, Nick was beginning to feel drained. He’d cast a lot more magic at once than he’d ever had before, and the adrenaline of the night was wearing off; there was also the matter of the pain from the backbreaking work of tearing down the wall beginning to settle in — especially in his right leg and knee from bracing himself steady as he worked. All he wanted right now was a shower and to relax before sleep, but he didn’t think he had the strength to shower.
He did, however, manage to get undressed, so he wasn’t staying in sweaty clothes, then spent a few minutes digging through luggage for the pain pills. Upon finding it, he set the bottle on top of the mini-fridge, then opened that to see if there was anything he could get to drink. All he saw was the mini-bar, and after a moment’s hesitation, pulled the bottles out to see what was there. After a few minutes, he put back everything except a bottle of whiskey and sat back to stare at what was in front of him.
‘Fuck it’ he thought to himself. ‘A drink won’t kill me’. With that thought out of the way, he twisted open one of the small bottles and chugged it, leaving enough for the pill. The bottle he set back on top of the mini fridge as he retrieved a pill and popped it into his mouth, retrieving the bottle a moment later in order to properly swallow it. Leaving his eyes closed for a moment as he felt the familiar soothing burn of the whiskey slide down his throat, he sighed, a little satisfied. Reopening his eyes, he went to take another drink, forgetting the bottle was empty. The bottle was soon discarded into a nearby trashcan, and he reached into the mini-fridge for the last bottle he had seen in there, taking it and chugging it — wanting that feeling, that sensation he associated with calm.
Now, empty, the bottle was discarded, and Nick flopped back onto the bed to work on relaxing. As his thoughts wandered, he got to a moment where he panicked slightly, and then reached for his phone. ‘Shit shit shit’ he kept thinking as he fumbled for the wallet in his pants, and Charles’ card. He was about to dial when he realized the time, then closed the phone app. He sighed, pressing the heel of a hand to his forehead and thumped it a couple of times. ‘Stupid, stupid’ he repeated a few times.
After a moment or two, his eyes fell on Charles’ card, and he noticed an email printed on it. Picking it back up, he opened his email app and entered Charles’ into the to field, and began to type.
From: Nick (jacksonnm@gmail.com)
To: Charles
Subject: Guidance Needed
I am presently out of town on a work-related thing, and I feel like I screwed up big time. I had a long day with some backbreaking labor involved, and the pain is killing me, and I don’t have my dog with me to help keep me centered.
I ended up taking a pain pill (I’d gotten a refill after talking with you the other night) with some whiskey from the minibar. I enjoyed it, and went for a second bottle, and drank that. I did it because I missed the sensation and what it reminded me of — relaxation; no worries.
I think I screwed up twofold – once by mixing pain medication and alcohol, and again by having more liquor. I don’t want to backslide to where I was before, and I’m concerned I might. I’m refraining from anything else, in part because I’m tired as hell, but I worry the other part may be because there isn’t any more whiskey.
Please, I need guidance. I would have called, but it’s obscenely late (early?) and I didn’t want to wake you. I’m trying to stave off a panic attack, and I’m going to try meditation when I am done typing this. Right now, I’m utilizing breathing techniques, and it’s somewhat helping.
I’m hoping to be back in town tomorrow evening, but I’m not sure how late I’ll get in. I just… I need to know I’m not heading down that path again, and I’ll be ok. So…asking for your guidance. Ryan speaks well of you, and you seem decent, so you’ve got my trust. Please, if you can, help.
Nick
He looked over the email before pressing send, then flipped his phone over on the nightstand. Like he told Charles, he tried meditating, but only had a little luck. With a yawn after his effort, he decided to just call it a night and try to get some sleep.