The mention of vampires had worried him, of course. But he couldn't really do anything about it. It just reinforced his idea that this place was evil - far too evil for a nice little girl like Sherri. And really, he was no better than those vampires. At least you knew a vampire was bad. You were expecting it. Brian's monster lived inside him, and he still knew nothing about it. Attempts at pulling it out so that he could see it, so that he could examine it, did nothing. The monster played dumb whenever he was around.
Leaning against the door, he lifted the bottle to his lips with his left hand while he scribbled on the pad of paper with his right. His handwriting was loose and scrawly, a side effect of the booze running through his system. But it was legible. Prying the bottle from his lips with a loud "pop," he tore the note from the pad and slipped it under the door.