It was getting close to four in the morning when Lucian Charlemagne decided that he had a headache, and thus an excuse to pop the pills.
Weak and weary from the misery of the day, he peeled himself off of the mattress on the floor and staggered to the bathroom. Of course, he was still drunk, so the crummy apartment seemed to bob and sway with every graceless, stumbling footfall. Despite his severe intoxication, however, he was able to flick on the light switch, wrench the doorknob a few times, and stagger into the filthy washroom without bumping into too many things in the process.
It sucked, being this hammered and unable to sleep.
Standing wasn't difficult, he just didn't feel like standing, and so he let his posture sag, his emaciated hands gripping both sides of the sink. He wasn't going to throw up. He was just…dizzy. That was all.
"Oh fuck me," he mumbled to himself, the greasy mop of straw-blonde hair obscuring his visage and thus his view of his own reflection. "Fuck…fuck…where the FUCK did I—oh shit…"
The pills.
He had a bottle of vicodin—Christmas gift of a friend of a friend. He had come into the bathroom for them, hadn't he? But where the hell had he put them? Medicine cabinet? Linen closet? His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to quell the room's spinning, tried to navigate the suddenly murky depths of his memory—where?
Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.
Lucian.
"Yeah, I know, little sister. Just…just gimme a sec."
His right hand slipped on the slick porcelain, groped, groped, felt around a small, orange prescription bottle, and carried it to his mouth. He tilted the lidless container and swallowed four, five, six pills. Maybe seven, maybe eight. He sure as hell wasn't counting. Fuck.
Dizzy.
Thus accomplished, he allowed the now-empty container to slip from his grasp and fall to the grimy tiles in a clatter that he did not hear in his state of inebriation. The soapy taste of the painkillers lingered rather unpleasantly, but it was also a taste he was quite used to.
Really fucking dizzy.
His reflection looked haggard. Ghostlike.
"Cheers," he said to the junkie in the glass, and then his legs decided to stop functioning. His knees buckled, and he collapsed gracelessly to the floor.
Was it the booze this time, or was it the vic?
Who knew, who cared?
It wasn't like he couldn't get up off the ground, either. He just didn't feel like it.
His lips twisted into a haphazard sort of grin.
"I'm coming little sister…." he mumbled, barely able to hear his own voice over his suddenly hammering pulse. Saliva dribbled out from between his parted lips, and began to pool on the floor beneath him. He tried to wipe it away but his arms were too heavy. Fuck that.
"Don't you worry, little sister, I'm—"
The booze, or the vic? He shot up earlier, didn't he? Yeah. That too. What else had he taken that day, that night alone? Couldn't have been too much. Besides, he wasn't drunk, he was just a little tired, he could get up any time he felt like it.
Black.
And then…red.
His eyes eased open slowly, and he found he was able to blink the dizziness away. Oh, so he'd passed out again, had he? Cute. Lori would be pissed as hell at him, but fuck that, she was always nagging about some shit anyways—
Lucian.
"Huh?"
The voice he heard wasn't in his head this time.
Peculiar.
One hand instinctively folding over his should-be aching forehead, the other flattening against the wood floor, Lucian waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Wait.
Darkness?
Wood floor?
The fuck?
Blinking confusedly, Lucian looked around himself, trying to take in his surroundings. There were nothing more than vague humps in the shadows, indication of furniture or some other inanimate objects.
Clearly, he wasn't in the bathroom like he thought he was.
His teeth sinking into his lower lip, palms pressing against his closed eyes, fingers gouging at his greasy hair, panic began to manifest itself in the form of vague tremors.
This was bad. Very, very bad.
Well, not so bad.
It certainly wasn't the first time he'd woken up in a place that was totally unfamiliar to him by any stretch of the imagination. This had happened before, and it would definitely happen again. He just needed…to figure out where he was.
Yeah.
That was it.
Nodding in the attempt to reassure himself, he relaxed his hands, let them drop, and fumbled in his pockets for his old lighter. Feeling its familiar, worn-and-scratched surface was somewhat of a comfort, and so was the small halo of light it produced when he flicked the dial and coaxed forth a flame.
"All right," he said. "Okay."
Unfortunately, his surroundings looked not in the least bit familiar.
Those lumps in the darkness that he had managed to discern were indeed furniture. They looked like…benches. Benches aligned…in rows?
Pews.
Okay, so he was in a church?
A worn tapestry depicting a cross was folded over one of the pews. It confirmed his estimation, but it did nothing to assuage his fears. How the hell had he ended up in a church? There certainly weren't any in the neighborhood he lived in. Hell, he hadn't even set foot in a church since-
Lucian.
Not funny!
This was NOT FUNNY!
His teeth found his lower lip again, and every muscle in his body clenched, or so it felt. His hands began to shake, jeopardizing the meager light he had been able to produce.
The first few times, he thought he'd been dreaming. He thought he'd been high, or drunk—under the influence. It was okay to hear her voice, okay because it wasn't really real—he'd been thinking about her anyways, so—
Lucian.
Where was it coming from? He spun around once, twice…the flame threw light in places that shouldn't have been illuminated, and evil shadows bore their claws.
That way? It was coming from…that way?
Deciding on a random direction, Lucian held the lighter out in front of him and walked. He wasn't hearing it anymore. Maybe he had just imagined it?
Pews and pews. Dust. Silence.
He had begun to hyperventilate, in his excitement and fear. His erratic breathing was the only sound. He had stopped before what he assumed was the altar, and that was a dead end. Except for-
"Hey," he said, his rasping voice sacrilege in the preserved silence. "Hey!"
It was standing with his back to him, whatever it was, and it had long, long hair. Blonde? Brunette? He couldn't quite tell…the light wasn't really doing its job. Whatever it was, it was making him more anxious, but he didn't quite have the courage to grab it by its shoulder and spin it around.
So again, for the third time-"Hey!"
Silence.
"I don't know what I did wrong," it said.
No way. No fucking way. This was getting too personal, too close to the heart. It-whatever it was-sounded too much like her for this to be safe anymore. Like it was safe to begin with.
"What is this," he nearly growled. "Turn around!"
And it did.
When it showed its face, he saw that it was not an "it" at all. It was a young woman, and a rather pretty one at that. Blonde hair, he could somehow discern that particular feature, and soft, blue eyes.
"Lucian," she whispered.
"Nuh uh," he said. "No fucking way. This is a dream. A trip. I'm not seeing this right now."
"Please, Lucian."
Her eyes brimmed with imploration, but there was something wrong. Something horribly wrong. A dark liquid was seeping out from between her lips, dribbling down her chin, and dripping to the floor in muted pat-pat sounds.
"I can't do this," he mumbled to himself. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can't."
He tried to turn, to run away, but his legs decided not to work again. So he clamped his hands over his ears and shut his eyes.
"Six hundred sixty six," he mumbled, "six hundred sixty five, six hundred sixty-FUCK!"
She was touching him, touching his shoulders. He opened his eyes, and her face was right before his. He made a squeaky moan in the back of his throat.
"Please, Lucian."
It was dark now, but somehow he could see that it was blood coming out of her mouth.
"I've been waiting…so…long…"
Light.
Lucian really did scream when he saw the light, the great, bright dazzle of it. He screamed…and fell backwards? He must have fallen backwards, because…he was on his back?
On his back…in a hospital room.
"You're one lucky sonofabitch," the doctor said, "you know that?"
