Febuwhump Day 10: "How Long Has It Been?"
Word Count: 519
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: T
Characters: Dr. Knox
Warning: N/A
Summary: Knox sits on his kitchen floor, his only companions a bottle of whiskey and an old photograph, and wonders how long it's been.
Notes: N/A
How Long Has It Been?
The house was a mess, as it usually was these days. Papers were lying around, there were piles of clothes that needed washing. The carpets had been stained long ago and he had never bothered to clean them. The floor hadn't been mopped or even swept in who knows how long. Books laid around, and dishes and garbage piled in the sink. It was the norm now. It had been for many years at this point.
Knox sat in the floor of the kitchen, ignoring the mess around him. He had no desire to clean it up. He hadn't in years. Why should he? No one else lived here and no one was going to come visit him. He had made sure of that, hadn't he?
He picked up the bottle of whiskey and took a drink from it, looking at the picture that was loosely held in his hand. His wife, Janine. His son, Matthew. They were dressed up, standing outside of their house, this house, all smiling. This had been a few weeks before he had been sent to Ishval. They had been happy then. He had been a different man then.
Knox took another swig out of the whiskey bottle. A different man… that was putting it lightly. He had been the kind of man then that would wake his wife up with gentle kisses and loving embraces, instead of reaching for a weapon, kicking her out of the bed, or rolling off and attacking her instead. He had been the kind of father that helped his son with homework and went outside to toss a ball around with him instead of the kind that couldn't stand to look at him without seeing an Ishvalan boy on his table, that ducked a ball heading his way because he was thinking of a grenade instead, that yelled at his son for the smallest mistakes.
Knox leaned his head back. He used to be a lot of things. He didn't used to flinch at the sounds of trays being dropped, or people yelling, or the smell of certain foods cooking. He used to pride himself on being organized and keeping himself respectable and clean. He used to—he used to—
Stars, he missed how he used to be.
He looked back at the photo in his hand, felt the tears falling down his face. How long had it been? How long had it been since he had been that man? How long had it been since he had been happy? How long had it been since he had been able to see himself as someone who was worthy to hold his family in his hands?
"How long has it been?"
The words left his mouth, heavy in the silence around him. It was a question he asked himself, but not one he had an answer for. He reached for the whiskey again and took another swig. He didn't know. It didn't matter. Right now, all that mattered was that he knew he was a shell of the man he used to be, and he didn't deserve anything better.