edge of the bed.
Scott still hated himself for how he dealt with what happened to Sarah. Back then, strangulation seemed to be better than feeling. So, he’d gone on tour. He wished he'd stayed. He would always wish he'd stayed. He just wasn't strong enough. So, he drank and took whatever he could find. It effectively became months and years of stumbling through the dark and onto various stages to sing about her and everyone else he'd loved and lost.
For what may as well have been an eternity, everything he took got stronger and his real feelings, the real him, got lost. There was safety in darkness, a place for him to hide. It was an existence far too destructive to last. More than once he was close enough to the end to almost taste it. And yet, he somehow managed to endure it all. Wishing for death hadn't been enough to end Scott Drake’s charmed life of treacherous bliss.
The paralysis of over-analysis was what he was suffering from that morning. Scott reacted in the same way that he did when he realised that on every other day. He took his guitar from its case on the floor and strummed a few chords. Sounds spilled, progressed and flowed. He occasionally noted combinations he liked. That was how he worked, with an occasional swig of vodka to expand his buzz. He still felt tired though. He felt more tired every day, no matter how he fought against it. There was a sense of hurtling towards oblivion and of trying to catch the sparks of moments. The best he could really hope for though, was just to hold on. There was still joy in that. It was just a shame that he struggled to treat the other parts of his life in the same way.
Playing music always made Scott feel better about things. As he put his guitar back into its case, he was telling himself that everything was under control. He was with Rebecca and that had to be a good thing. She made him smile and laugh and he didn't really know why. It was just a gift she'd always had. Just something in the way she said and did things that amused him. Nothing too specific but still wonderful.
He could hardly wait to see her. He was more aware than ever that he needed a new start and to be around her as much as possible. He understood then that her love had become a fading Polaroid in reverse. The more he exposed himself to it, the more she and everything else in the world came into focus.
It was midday. Scott’s stomach was growling, gnawing at his backbone. A coffee seemed the easiest and quickest solution. Hunger could be kept at bay and maybe the caffeine might even get rid of the stinging tiredness in his eyes. The kettle was full, so he pressed down a button at its base and made the bed while the water boiled. Hardly hospital corners but it'd do. After sneering at the decaff, he emptied a sachet of instant coffee into a cup and covered it with sugar and milk. A whistle sounded and boiling water was poured into the cup, sending a lovely aroma out into the air and reminding him of Sunday mornings when he was a kid. The familiarity of the smell followed Scott back into the bathroom and stayed there while he cleaned his teeth.
He tasted his error in an instant and washed his mouth out with water, hoping the minty tang wouldn't mix too horribly with his coffee. It didn't work. The first sip made him wince. Luckily, the horrible mixture got more bearable with each sip and, once he got used to it, it didn't taste too bad.
By then he'd packed almost everything he owned into his suitcase. Almost without realising it, Scott had made a decision. It was time to leave. And after all, there were always other hotels. He just hoped that this time things would be different.
After putting on a jacket, he raised his cup of coffee to salute the room and swallowed down the dregs. He put the cup down on the desk and collected the vodka bottle from the bedside table, placing it on top of the clothes in his suitcase. Scott only paused to open the door. He deposited his suitcase and guitar case in the hallway. As he did this, the grinning couple from next door walked out of their room and came towards him. A momentary smile of politeness crossed his lips but they didn't notice. Scott turned away, and, with barely a backward glance, he closed the door, picked up his things and walked away to meet Rebecca.
Learn About The Author
A writer of multiple genres, James Eddy began writing film and television scripts before moving into Short Stories, Novels and Novellas. ‘Fading Polaroids in Reverse’ is the sixth part of his short story collection, ‘Diamonds’. For more information, please visit www.jameseddy.co.uk or feel free to contact him via Twitter or Facebook
ABOUT YOUNGBLOOD BOOKS
Founded in 2012, Youngblood Books is owned and operated by James Eddy. We publish a diverse range of genres, including Comedy, Drama, Children's Stories, Romance, Fantasy, Literary Fiction and Comics. Visit us at www.youngbloodbooks.co.uk to keep up to date with all our new releases.
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