Slouching on the long plush sofa in his grand bedroom, Tom drank from a beer bottle, bags under his red eyes, staring into the electronic fireplace across from him. Beer bottles were sprawled out everywhere; some had rolled over to the other side of the white marble-floored room. He was in nothing but some old tracksuit bottoms and his hockey jersey, leaving his torso bare.
The room was usually bright and airy, but today it was gloomy, the curtains shutting out the sunshine from outside, the only light coming from the fire in front of him and the occasional glow of his phone, alerting him to messages from his friends or most recently, blowing up his phone was Darci. It remained on silent and he didn’t bother looking at her messages.
Tom was too preoccupied with running through everything
