Various bottles littered the room, all of which were empties, the stench of alcohol in conjunction with smoke lingered, looking around the room Ramsay frowned, picking up bottles and putting them into a sacks. He was ashamed of the state of the room, he counted each one he threw away, he reached up to fifty bottles before he managed to empty the floor space, looking under the desk and the bed he saw even more. He wondered how many months had these bottles been accumulating, he couldn’t even recall the last time he had cleared the room out, had it been just a couple of weeks since the last time? The more he found, the more he grew angry with himself, he opened draws and trunks, finding more bottles, tobacco and even some substances used by low lives. The sun set in the time it took him to clear the room of it all, filling four sacks up in the process, he knew that he was a drunk but this really put things into perspective for him, what on earth did everyone else think, no he thought, things can’t remain like this. Yet despite all that he stared at an unopened bottle of whiskey on his desk, he was craving it, looking at his hand he watched it shake from withdrawal.
“One finally drink wouldn’t hurt… Would it?”
His hand went for the bottle but his eyes glanced in the mirror, one remaining candle in the room, almost burnt out giving off barely enough light to see. He didn’t see himself just a drunk looking for his fix.
“I don’t even know you… Or maybe I do to well…”
He picked up the bottle, his gaze flicking from it to his eyes in the mirror, it was almost as if his reflection was urging him on to open it and drink the lot, he heard mocking laughter in his head. He launched the bottle of whiskey at the mirror, shattering both before booting one of sacks of bottles as he stormed his way to the door.
“Oh dear Ramsay…Temper, temper, ha ha ha ha”
He threw a glance around the room, his eyes widen, he saw nothing but darkness as the candle faded out…