Chapter 1: Choice
He detected early the tragedy that the human brain, with all its capacity, gets clouded with a never ending flood of bodily needs and emotions. How perfect it would be if he could overcome one of those.
He sat at the table, the chestnut wood shining in the harsh fluorescent lights. Two bottles sat before him. The only difference was that he was alone.
Always alone. No John to save him, to shoot through the window and stop whoever was challenging him. No one. Absolutely alone.
"Alone is what I have. Alone protects me." These words rang through his mind. They did no good now.
All those years, alone, on a solo mission, fighting for the right to see his John again. Then the worst had happened. John had reacted with venom and anger.
"Get out. I can't forgive you. You're dead to me."
He had stumbled out of Baker Street, dazed and confused. That was three days ago. He knew that he had nothing else to live for. He had cut all ties after The Fall. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. After all, he was alone. Always alone. He had never been any other way. It was a life, yes, but the worst kind, the kind that forages for scraps of kindness.
"Now I choose." he breathed.