Vince had quite possibly downed more alcohol in the last hour than he had the entire week previously. It wasn't even nice stuff, but old, cheap bottles of vodka and wine that had been given as last minute Christmas presents, because, really, nothing says 'I have no idea what to get you' quite like bargain bin booze, or huge beige bath towels for that matter..
The TV was buzzing to itself monotonously; sleet fell miserably against the windows as he stood. The room span sickeningly. He wondered whether he should take in specific details, if this was the last time he'd ever see the room, but then again, what use would a memory of the awful carpet be when dead?
Dead. It sounded so real. Too real. So this was what it was like, knowing death was imminent. A strangely calm experience, almost as if thinking an everyday, mundane though, such as considering putting the kettle on, or catching a bus.
Vince switched the TV off shakily and tidied the room a bit, stacking the glasses neatly in the sink. There. It looked almost untouched. Eerily quiet. It felt strange…and scary to be plotting your own demise, almost like calculating the blueprint for a crime or something. And it was only 23.01.
He hesitated for a few seconds next to the medical cupboard, before selecting a few boxes of paracetamol and aspirin. Another bottle of alcohol from the fridge, before taking a last look at the room and trudging up the stairs.
He was completely pissed. Had to be, or he'd probably be doing something equally pathetic like crying by now. But he wasn't. He felt nothing. Bone clean, like a scraped out shell.
Vince walked into his bedroom and shut the door, shoving the bedside table in front of it and wedging a chair under the handle. He checked it. No possible chance anyone could get in. They'd think it was normal. After arguments he always holed himself up in his room. It'd just be Vince being mardy, yet again. He walked round the room once. Everything was straight and in its place.
There was no turning back now.
Howard and Melinda stumbled in the door at gone one in the morning. The house was completely empty. And quiet. This would have been strange, if he hadn't been drinking like a fish that evening. Melinda tripped over the cat, and they were both laughing uncontrollably again as they made their way up the stairs.
He paused outside Vince's room.
"Vince?" More giggling.
No answer.
"Are you in there?" He tried the handle. Barricaded.
"Howard…come on…" She tugged his hand, giggling.
Fine then. Sulk. See if I care. He thought, shuffling past the door….
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