He wasn't quite sure what had brought up into this rather damp, musty and overly cluttered attic. All he did know was that he was slightly drunk on scotch and hung out on pot. He was also once again being served with divorce papers.
He and Julie had been unhappy for a while so it wasn't a shock to him when he got home to find all her clothes and pictures gone and a rather long and bulky envelope sitting on his living room table. Though, he was depressed. He was a 36 year old doctor, head of the Oncology department and had a misanthrope, sadistic, son of a bitch drug addict as his best friend. Wilson couldn't help but laugh harshly as he took a drag. He was stumbling around the attic for a while almost spilling his scotch as he tripped on some old gym equipment when his eyes landed on what had lead him up here.
Wilson eased himself down on the floor and pulled the box towards him. He couldn't help but cough as the dust hung in the air when he lifted the lid. A tired smile reached his lips as he looked at the numerous photo albums. It was all here in pictures most of his life had been recorded by his obsessive mother who insisted on taking photos at every family occasion. The first one he pulled out contained the wedding pictures of his third marriage that had been taken by his mother.
He and Julie had looked happy. He remembered being happy and positive that Julie was the one. Wilson took another drag of his almost diminished joint as he eyes fell on a picture of him, Julie, a clean shaven House and Stacy. He distinctively remembered the stag night House had taken him on. Actually, House had taken him on many stag nights, even on nights were he wasn't getting married to someone but Wilson distinctly remembered the night before his wedding to Julie.
They had started the night at House's place with some rather expensive bottles of scotch. Once they had polished off two bottles they had decided to head out on their bar crawl in the bad area of town (they had been very drunk) were House had gotten into a fight with a 7ft, heavily tattooed biker. House had some how won the fight which in turn pissed off all the guys friends and they had found themselves running like mad through the dark and wet streets of New Jersey chased by psychopaths on bikes, who were spinning chains around their heads. Luckily to hide they had slipped into a strip joint where they were able to fully enjoy the rest of the evening. A satisfying smirk crossed Wilson's lips and he took another drag. Those had been good times.
As he looked back at the picture of him, Julie, House and Stacy and how happy and hopeful they all looked he realised if anyone who knew them saw that picture now, they would be certain it was a fake. The smirk soon fell from his face and he took what was left of his joint and stubbed it out on the picture of all four of them. They had all been through so much. House had lost the use of his leg and Stacy. Work had become Wilson's mistress and Julie's boss had become her lover.
He tossed the album aside and picked up the glass beside him and took a sip of scotch. He picked up another album. He didn't know why he was taking this trip down memory lane, all it was doing was making him even more and more depressed.
The next album was perhaps the most depressing of them all. It contained a large amount of photos of his parents, him and his two brothers. He knew he should stop seeing pictures of his childhood. Seeing how happy they had been as children was almost too much for him. The disappearance of Peter had put such a strain on his whole family. The fear that came with every knock, every phone call. Everyone awaited the news that Peter's body had been found in a gutter or the canal. It was particularly hard on his mother.
Wilson swallowed the remainder of his scotch and savoured it's harsh taste. He dug the palms of his hands into his eyes. The smiling face of Peter was burned into his mind and he hated that face. He had hated him for ten years for leaving. He removed his hands from his eyes and continued to flip through the album trying to only remember the time that was captured in the photos. But he couldn't.
All he could remember was the night when he had last seen Peter. When Wilson had done nothing. He had let him walk away. That was the last memory he ever had of his younger brother.
Wilson let out an angry breath, closed his eyes and threw the photo album back in the box as he got to his feet. This had been a mistake, why he couldn't have just gone out to a strip bar? At least that would have been fun. Still depressing, but fun. He tripped over the gym equipment again, but this time, his stumble caused him to snap. He bent over and picked up the offending equipment and threw it against the wall. He didn't stop there. He attacked everything in sight, throwing boxes against the wall. He picked a discarded hockey stick and set to work smashing the full length mirror his mother had given him and the clock that had been his grandfathers. He was unabashedly crying as he did it, destroying everything that was in his way.
He didn't know how long he had been going at everything but his breathing was laboured and his brow was covered in sweat. His arms began to ache and he stumbled slightly as he leaned against the wall dropping the hockey stick. He rested his head against the wall gulping in the cold dusty air as he ran a hand down his face where tears were still falling. He felt the vibration of his cell phone in his right pocket. He pulled it out and read House's name on the caller ID.
Without a second thought he flipped open the phone settled his breathing and his voice retained his normal calm as if he hadn't just gone ten rounds in the attic.
"Service with a Smile Advice line. What inquiry do you have today?"