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TWENTY-THREE | JOHN
3 months later "Off you go, Jack," I muttered as I threw my third bottle of the night of Tennessee whiskey into the growing pile of empty bottles next to the trash can. "The perks of being a werewolf, right Tenebris?" I slurred. Tenebris was silent as I stood up and stumbled over to the liquor cabinet. I yanked the heavy oak door open and pulled out another bottle of Jack. I swayed back over to the well-worn recliner, singing softly to the Theory of a Deadman song that was playing through the stereo. Why, oh, why can't you just fix me? / When all I want's to feel numb /But the medication's all gone / Why, oh, why does God hate me? / When all I want's to get high / And forget this so called life. I fell into the recliner and twisted the cap off the whisky bottle, humming to myself. I po
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