Sugar. Why not?

Fading Fast

Patrick's PoV

Drink. Push the pedal harder. Repeat.

I don't know where I am. The alcohol is taking effect and my blurry vision tells me that I should no longer be driving. I don't give a fuck. So I go faster.

Maybe I should worry about getting arrested for drink driving. It's something I never thought I'd do but here I am.

I'm consumed with the need to go faster but at 150 mph my car can't cope. The engine revs far too much making me even angrier.

"Fucking piece of shit!" I growl, slamming on the breaks. The tyres skid on the tarmac brining me to a shaky stop at the side of an empty road. Fuck knows where I've ended up. On either side of me are some houses spread rather far apart. A couple shops I think and maybe a gas station. There's no sign of life even if it is only late afternoon.

The silence and lack of distraction doesn't help me. So I beat the shit out of my steering wheel.

My already aching knuckles scream and bleed but it doesn't register good enough.

It's only when my phone rings that I stop and I glare at it as if it's my worst enemy. I don't want to talk to anyone.

A quick glance only makes me want to smash it. Sof- No I don't want to think that name. Her... her Mom is calling. Probably to ask me if I've found her yet.

Snatching it up I answer it so I can tell her that her daughter is perfectly okay. She's just a bitch!

Even thinking that word about her hurts me. I should want to call her all the names under the sun but I ache with every bad word. It's too ingrained in my mind to protect her from all of that kind of stuff.

Fucking hell I need to get a grip. She's not who I thought she was.

"Patrick? Are you there? Listen I called the police but they said -"

"That you'd have to wait until forty eight hours before reporting a missing person. I know. Look I got a hold of her, she's fine" I drag the words from the depths of my brain because being civil is not something I'm good at right now.

"Oh thank god! Where was she?" She asks cheerily and I cringe. I can't do this. So I hang up. I've done my part. She can call her Mom herself now surely.

I try to gulp back some more alcohol but nothing hits my lips. I've drank it all. Fuck! Guess I'll have to go find some more then.

Some more aimless driving takes me further away from my town, away from her and finally I pull up into a random hotel parking lot.

The neon flashing sign above the entryway hurts my eyes as I try to read it. I simply can't because my vision is far too impaired. God knows how many stars this place has but honestly it really isn't important. The bar in there will have more liquid to twist my mind enough to breath. I hope.

As soon as I exit the car an unpleasant smell hits my nose. Where the fuck am I?

Stumbling to the shaking front door of the hotel I step through the threshold only to have to clutch the wall for balance. I don't think it was the door that was shaking.

As I squint my eyes I'm met with peeling paint and odd coloured carpets. I can just about make out the ware and tear of the beaten up reception desk as I try to reach it without falling over. Wow I'm more of a lightweight than I thought. Or maybe a whole bottle of whiskey is a lot. Who the fuck knows? I probably should but I don't know anything anymore.

The fuzzy man at the desk does not look pleased so my plans of telling him this place needs a lick of paint and new furniture are put on hold. This is definitely two star. Maybe just one.