A Place So Wicked Patrick Reuman (children's ebooks free online TXT) 📖

himself an alcoholic, but there were a few times that Richard suggested it in not-so-subtle ways.

As far as Richard knew, Robbie had stopped drinking completely. He had never asked Robbie straight-forward if he quit; it was just kind of an assumption that Robbie allowed Richard to maintain because Richard never saw Robbie drinking or drunk, not in years. Richard even went so far as to congratulate Robbie on his sobriety.

So, if the price of keeping his brother’s blessing was to hide his vodka on the top shelf of a closet, he would do that. But right then, as he made his way downstairs, the bottle in hand, he was downright excited. He retrieved a glass from the cupboard and set it on the counter. He wondered if he were being a little too brave. Richard had never distinctly told Robbie he couldn’t drink at the house, but he didn’t want Paisley or Toby getting home and seeing him with a bottle in his hand. He wasn’t sure if it would even occur to either of them to tell Richard what they saw, but he didn’t want to risk it either way.

He hurriedly poured the drink, watching it rise until the glass was half full. Then he turned and opened the fridge. It was nearly empty, but alas, within the temple of cooling stood a bottle of apple juice. He pulled it from the fridge and used it to fill his cup the rest of the way.

Not even waiting until he made it back to his bedroom, he tilted the cup high and let it pour. It coursed down his throat, the fiery liquid burning his insides as it snaked its way toward his stomach. He was surprised at how hard it hit him. He used to be able to down vodka unaltered easily, but now he could feel the burn like someone had forced him to swallow a match. He wondered then exactly how long it had been since he had last drank. It had to have been a few weeks, maybe even a month. The bottle that sat on the counter in front of him was one he purchased quite a while back, far enough back, even, that he couldn’t remember exactly where or when he had gotten it.

He sealed the bottle and then carried it, and the glass, up the stairs. In his bedroom, he put the bottle back where it belonged, hiding in the closet, and carried the glass over to the window. It was a little cloudy outside, the perfect day for a drink, he thought. Back when he was younger, any day was the perfect day for a drink.

He was already planning what he would do with the rest of the time he had alone. He would shower, uninterrupted. It was a glorious thought. To be able to bathe without someone knocking on the door, asking him how much longer he would be. In such a large house, it was almost insane that there was only one bathroom. He guessed when the rest of the house was as beautiful as it was, the number of bathrooms was hardly a dealbreaker.

Then, he would go downstairs and watch some television, also uninterrupted. He wouldn’t have to accept anybody else’s input on what he was going to watch. Not that they did that all that much, what with everyone being busy, but it seemed like everyone sat down at the television, somehow, at the same time as everyone else. He considered what else he may do as he downed the last sip of the apply delicacy, still staring out the back window at nothing in particular.

He could feel his body swaying just a little bit, an obvious effect of having not drank in so long. He worked to steady himself, wondering if he should really be showering if he were a little tipsy. He decided it would be fine. Their shower had one of those cool handles inside, attached to the wall, to hold yourself up. He didn’t think it was meant for this, but he was glad it was there.

Brushing his teeth would probably do him well, given that he could smell the alcohol on his own breath. Hiding the alcohol on his breath from his big brother, he laughed to himself, was what his life had come to. He carried the empty glass into the bathroom and rinsed it out before returning it to his bedroom, where he set it on a stand until he could get around to bringing it downstairs later.

Returning to the bathroom, he closed the door behind him and started removing his clothes. The shower curtain was grey and opaque, something he wasn’t a fan of because, even though it wasn’t fully transparent, it made him uncomfortable with his niece and nephews running around. He locked the bathroom door just in case, even though he was alone, and then cranked on the water, adjusting it slowly to just the right temperature.

He climbed in, balancing himself with the rail, convinced now beyond a doubt that the little grab bar was a godsend. He washed himself from bottom to top, humming a song as he finished at his hair. The strawberry shampoo left him feeling like he was in some sort of drunken strawberry paradise. He allowed some of it to rain down onto his face, cleansing his skin of the previous night’s sweat.

As he dunked his head under the water to rinse, he thought he heard a sound. Even in his currently altered state, he knew right away it was the sound of the doorhandle wiggling.

“Hold on!” he shouted over the shower’s watery roar. “I’ll be out in a minute!”

Damn, he thought to himself. He couldn’t even manage a fifteen-minute shower without interruption. He was beyond annoyed, not only by the interruption itself but by the fact that whichever kid was trying to break into the bathroom couldn’t even