Chapter 4: C. E. Winchester III
Charles arrived home to a lavish party and many family friends. He felt oddly out of place and forced the smiles that came to him naturally all of his life. Oddly he kept looking around almost longingly for Pierce or Hunnicut. Drinking cognac and brandy he almost yearned for something from the still. He excused himself early and went up into his room. For the first time in years he sat in silence, unable to bear the sounds of his beloved classical music. He wept softly to himself in the darkness, hoping beyond all reason that he would be back to his old self in the morning.
Three weeks later
He sat in his darkened room, brandy in hand. Once in line to be a chief surgeon at Boston Mercy, he had had to be placed on administrative leave after blacking out during a simple surgery. His father had decided that Charles merely needed some time to himself, partly out of concern for his son and partly to protect the Winchester name.
He sometimes tried to convince himself that he had never seen the chinese musicians. When he slept, the nightmares came. The death of music. He couldn't stand to sleep, didn't want to be sober.
For former Major Charles Emerson Winchester III, hell was a very real thing.
Charles arrived home to a lavish party and many family friends. He felt oddly out of place and forced the smiles that came to him naturally all of his life. Oddly he kept looking around almost longingly for Pierce or Hunnicut. Drinking cognac and brandy he almost yearned for something from the still. He excused himself early and went up into his room. For the first time in years he sat in silence, unable to bear the sounds of his beloved classical music. He wept softly to himself in the darkness, hoping beyond all reason that he would be back to his old self in the morning.
Three weeks later
He sat in his darkened room, brandy in hand. Once in line to be a chief surgeon at Boston Mercy, he had had to be placed on administrative leave after blacking out during a simple surgery. His father had decided that Charles merely needed some time to himself, partly out of concern for his son and partly to protect the Winchester name.
He sometimes tried to convince himself that he had never seen the chinese musicians. When he slept, the nightmares came. The death of music. He couldn't stand to sleep, didn't want to be sober.
For former Major Charles Emerson Winchester III, hell was a very real thing.