Self Destructing

Havermouth, Five Years Before

A hammering at the door woke Aislen. It was late afternoon, slipping into dusk, and Toby snored on the mattress next to her. The room was littered with debris from their day, scattered clothing, take away food wrapping, the nearly empty whiskey bottle, the bong, the bag of drugs on the table, and the cigarette ashtray overflowing.

“Your time is up room twenty-three!” A man bellowed from outside.

“Yep,” Toby snorted awake and yelled back. “We hear you. We’re going. F-k,” he sat up and looked around him blearily, his eyes focusing on Aislen. “F-k,” he winced. “How old are you again?”

“Eighteen,” she realized. It was her birthday, and that fact had completely slipped her mind in the drama with her parents and the Triquetra. “I’m eighteen.”

“Thank f-k for that. Not that it makes any difference. I’m probably going to jail anyway,” he muttered as he began to dress.

“Because they drowned,” she said softly. The memory was fuzzy of him weeping out his confession s