What Good Will Drinkin' Do?
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl makes no profit what so ever to me. What Good Will Drinkin' Do? is the title of a song by Janis Joplin, and that one doesn't make any profit to me neither.
Summary: A one-shot fic. Not much longer than a drabble. Jack is in Tortuga, distraught and broken, turning to the bottle.
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I try to fix my eyes on the half full glass in front of me. It takes some effort, my sight is quite foggy. For once, my glass doesn't contain rum but wine, wine as red as my blood. I had decided on a break from rum this night, but I don't know how long it will last. I love the rum so much, it reminds me of being at sea. I feel a sudden cringe of pain in my heart. It makes the hair on my neck stand up, not because I can't stand the pain, but because it scares me. It scares me like hell, am I getting old, is my body falling apart already? I feel as though I were born yesterday, but at the same time I feel as if I've lived for thousands of long, hard years. Or maybe it was the loneliness that caused the pain. The grief, the despair my heart is nursing, that is growing by every minute. Everything I had is gone, and here I am, back in old, shabby Tortuga.
I stretch out my hand for the glass, remembering the only reason I'm here at all. Drowning those sorrows of mine. I drink long and deep, the bitter-sweet taste of the drink reaches each and every one of my tastebuds, I swallow the liquid and I feel the warmth of the spirit travelling through my veins. I close my eyes and lean back in my chair, starting to feel the comfort that the alcohol brings. I quickly down the rest of the wine and then I order some rum instead. I knew I'd never manage to stay away from the sacred drink for a whole night. Besides, it's stronger than the wine and will make me drunk faster. Earlier this evening I thought that I wanted to have one, maybe two glasses of wine and just feel generally good, but now I know I was wrong. I want to drink my bloody wits out. I want to pass out and wake up somewhere without remembering anything. Most likely it will be the pigsty, next to Gibbs Well, why should I care? Why shouldn't I drink? What reason have I got not to? What reason have I got to live? Nobody would miss me if I died.
I gaze blurrily at the tavern ladies. They are flirting with me, trying to get at me, trying to make me want them. I don't want them. Not tonight, nor any other night. They're just strompets and I'm too tired. Too sad... I only want...
I'll have another rum, thank you... ta, love.
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