His recovery wouldn't be easy. He'd been a monster for as long as he could remember, and since learning to survive in his half-human state, trying to live any other kind of life seemed impossible.
He wanted to believe what Ruby said that night she'd caught him by the collar, hauling him back up before he could end his life.
The look in her eyes sparked something in him. It was an echo of a feeling, revealing some faint hope that he thought he'd extinguished with alcohol some time ago.
He stood in his kitchen after a twelve-hour shift, exhausted but hungry. He opened his refrigerator to find a single microwave burrito, and in his semi-conscious state, he heated it up to an acceptable, edible temperature.
Whale didn't even bother to head over to his kitchen table, opting instead to eat his dinner over the sink. When he finished, he leaned against his counter and surveyed his surroundings. On his kitchen table, he saw the empty bottle of whisky that he'd downed the night before, and next to it, the bottle he'd bought ahead for this night.
Whale finished his burrito and took a sip of his Coke. He checked his phone. It was only nine o'clock. He grimaced, knowing that it'd be a struggle to get any rest tonight without self-medication.
Every night, images from his past flashed before his eyes, and in his dreams he re-lived the nightmare. He didn't want to sleep, couldn't sleep, and even the thought of laying down to rest made him uneasy.
He could feel despair wash up over his mind, and his shoulders sagged under the weight of his persistent memory.
He wondered if anything could ever really cure him. He put a hand to his face, covering his eyes. In the next moment, Whale heard his phone beep.
He had a text message. It was from Ruby.
Hey, just checking on ya
-r
His phone beeped again. It was another text.
If you need anything, I've got your back
-r
Whale looked at the bottle on the table again. He felt a prickling in the back of his mind, all hot and cold, planting him to that spot in his kitchen, pressing him against the sink as if it was the edge of the world.
He took a deep breath, and as he felt his chest expand he could sense some semblance of self-control slip back into his heart, wrapping around him in a thin film that held him in place.
Whale pressed against this new tension in his mind. It pulled him, creating an insurmountable divide between himself and what sat on the table.
He knew that if he pressed hard enough, he could tear right through that film like he'd done so many nights before, and drink himself into oblivion.
For several minutes, Whale stood in his kitchen. He held onto his phone as if it was a lifeline.
He looked down at the phone in his hand, and he sent Ruby at text.
Thank you.
-doc
Whale looked at the text from Ruby again and smiled. He turned off his cell phone and put it on the counter.
He went to bed right after that. He didn't throw away the whisky. He didn't ask Ruby for help.
Just on this night, he let that tension suspend him over the abyss, and he didn't fight to fall any further.