I'm Simply Leaving

Aiden’s point of view.
Castle моинк.
A week after the funeral.

Today I decided to shave my beard. And cut my hair. Before I did all of that, I even took a much needed bath. I was tired of existing in my own filth. Just because I’m heartbroken, doesn’t mean that I have to live like a hermit. Although I’m not going to stop drinking like one.

George the butler had given me a very disapproving look when I’d asked him last week to go buy more booze. One I hadn’t appreciated. He’s not my father.

But like the faithful servant that he was, he went out and got me my alcohol. He clearly didn’t like my drinking, moping or the lovely heap of self-pity that I’d built for myself.

I just missed Shane so much. My life felt empty and meaningless without him.

I’d scrubbed myself from head to toe and then sat in a chair for an hour as George removed most of the hair covering my face and scalp.

I actually felt a bit better. As if a bath and trim somehow lifted my mood. I needed something to do. Something to keep me busy. Don’t get me wrong; I loved drinking myself into a stupor every day, but I guess I couldn’t keep doing nothing for the rest of eternity. Well, I could, but I’m bloody bored.

I need a hobby. I’m thinking archery. I haven’t done that in a long time. I wonder if I even have the ability to hit a target. Well, I’m not going to relearn while sober. Some people would say that it was dangerous to use weaponry while under the influence, but I say that if you don’t want to get hit by an arrow, then don’t stand in front of me. Stupid humans. They don’t use the good sense that God gave them.

I’m not using it either, but I’m a drunk alien, so what do I care?