Anti-Hero | Tim Bradford

Chapter Thirty - Drinking

Two weeks from now:

Tim Bradford was known to be many things. Hardass, stickler for rules, vengeful, angry. Words like these had been tossed around tirelessly to describe him. None of these words could describe him now. If one were to say anything about him, they would say he was burdened by grief, a man destined to be encompassed by the negatives in life.

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Tim shivered as he moved throughout the house, not used to the cold feeling that had settled into the walls. He supposed he should be used to it by now, the place did seem a lot bigger when it was only him after all. It seemed like nobody lived there at all, the only sounds which indicated anyone existed within the walls was the tv playing an old tape of an NFL game and Kujo's soft snores.

It took all of his willpower to not scream and shout just to scare off the quietness that surrounded him. It felt almost as if it had him in a chokehold, firmly compressing all the oxygen he had from his lungs. He couldn't stay like this, not with the weight on his chest. He needed something, anything to ease his body and mind.

He decided to forgo the glass as he reached fo the near empty bottle of scotch that rested on the kitchen counter. Moving to the living room, he let his weight crash down onto the sofa, taking a deep swig from the bottle as he leaned back. There was nothing he wanted more than to be swallowed whole by the couch. Except for Morgan to come back to him.

But that wouldn't happen, and he had to make his peace with that.

He had survived losing her before, it would seem that he could survive losing her again. But this time there was no hope, there was not a chance that she was going to be coming home any time soon.

Rosalind Dyer had won.

It was always a possibility that she would prevail. The woman was a mastermind with no boundaries and no drive to lose. Despite all they knew about her, they had underestimated her. He could say that the entire team had underestimated her, but that wouldn't be fair to them. He was the one who made the plan, and he would be the one to live with the consequences.

He took another swig from the bottle, the burn of the golden liquid had become so familiar that he didn't even wince. As he did so, Tim started to reconsider all that had led him to this very moment.

From the day he started at the academy to the day he lost Morgan for the first time. It had all been building up to this, and all he could do was drink.

He knew that they were out there, the LAPD. Hunting down Rosalind Dyer on the streets of Los Angeles and they knew they would find her. She had been caught before after all. But this time was different, this time he could help, no matter how much he wanted to do.

Sighing softly, he placed the bottle down next to the chess board in front of him, and picked up his phone. The blaring alert of 'NO NEW MESSAGES' taunting him. Lopez would let him know what happened, or Harper would. Maybe even Nolan.

Tim scoffed at the thought, but he knew that John would let him know what was happening in the hunt for Dyer, if Tim asked that is. Maybe that was why he didn't ask, if he knew what was going on then he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

He tossed the phone to the other end of the sofa at the thought and picked up the bottle again, looking around his living room even though he knew it was only him and Kujo here. He knew he was being watched; every instinct he had carefully trained since his days in the military screamed it at him. Tim remained relaxed in his posture, not letting the dread he felt show.

Once again, he allowed his eyes to scan the room, making sure to catch a glimpse of every nook and cranny he could think of. His eyes lingered for a second longer than they should have on the wooden bookshelf, trying to look at each book individually.

He had built it for Morgan when they had moved in together, hers had been damaged in the UHaul truck, meaning that their living room was filled with stacks of books pushed into one corner. He had almost stuck a nail through his finger but that didn't matter to him, the look of joy on her face made every splinter worth it.

Tim shook his head at the memory as he had another sip from the bottle.