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Robert Drayton. (stringthetrail) wrote in bellumlogs,

Robert was still on the stairs when the next memory hit him. The foreign feelings of deviance and exhiliration violated his mind and left him inwardly disgusted. The vomiting, however, was nothing new. He himself had done it a couple of times when he hadn't quite yet gauged his liquor limit. He tried but couldn't make out the face on the desk. Whomever it was, Robert didn't like them.

It was bad enough spending some mornings trying to not let his own memories invade and strangle through his own veins without someone else invading, letting their memory sink in and strangle behind his eyes, forcing him to think and feel of someone else who selfishly tried to slay himself. Even if they didn't know it. And they didn't even care.

He needed a shower.