Dan Torrance (dr_sleep) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2019-09-06 11:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open, dan torrance, jack torrance, shepard |
Who: Dan and Shep and Jack
Where: Somewhere close to Bad Things
What: Struggling
When: Morning, September 6
Open: Yes
Rating: TBC, at least "high". Suicidal thoughts and Overlook memories.
Dan wished he was dead.
His hangover was currently slicing through his skull and making his stomach feel like it was trapped in a vice. He was curled up on the ground, slumped against a pillar of some sort that wasn't too far from Bryn's place, waiting for his legs to feel less like jelly. At least half of the drink he'd brought back from Atlanta was gone, if not more, and he hadn't been back to his dad's for a while now. Not because he didn't want Jack or Abra to see him hungover, although he really didn't, but because hangovers brought back his Shine and he realized what his drinking was doing to his family.
If he was dead, everything would be so much easier for everyone involved.
His Shine was going to drive him crazy. Nightmares and visions every night, all night, ghosts finding him all the time (no matter what Abra did to help, he was still going to get sent back to Atlanta in 1998 where ignoring ghosts got you hurt or worse) and deathflies, fucking deathflies, fuck... So he drank to get rid of the Shine. Drown the fucker, like Mrs Massey, right? She'd woken him up this morning. He'd screamed himself awake, clawing at clammy ghostly fingers that were choking the life out of him only to fade as his hangover kicked in, and now he had long red scrapes all down his throat.
If he was dead, things would be better.
His drinking was hurting his dad. He knew it when he was closer to sober than drunk and the Shine was stronger. His drinking made Jack want to drink, and Danny couldn't, wouldn't let that happen. So he stayed away when he really didn't want to, because he loved his dad and he already loved Abra. Why would they want him around when he didn't even want to be around himself?
His three options in life were Drunk, Batshit insane, or Dead. Dead sounded by far the best option. He'd helped enough people pass on, he'd seen enough hints. A long walk out of a short airlock would do it. Or he could just go to the medbay and find the right cocktail of drugs, and simply go to sleep, like he told the people he helped. Or go to one of the stores, find something sharp enough and tear through the veins and arteries in his forearms. Or, fuck, just jump off one of the higher balconies in that weird mall.
But he wasn't going to do any of those things because he was a fuck-up and a coward and he couldn't do anything right.
Not true. He could drink. He could drink and he could continue to make wishes. Maybe if he drank enough, he'd give himself alcohol poisoning and do everyone a favor.