 |
hudson king. mmm
Hudson sat quietly as he stared at the guitar in front of him, a glass filled to the brim with whiskey brushing his lips. The liquid burned as it invaded his esophagus, but he accepted it eagerly, and his body relaxed as the warmth settled in his stomach. It had been six months since the accident - six months since the last time he picked up that very same guitar to play a show at The Roxy Room. He stared at it every day, watching as it collected dust. He would pass by every time he left his room, but couldn’t find it in him to play a tune.
The accident was still a blur for the most part, one that he tried to desperately erase from his memory, but the details came in flashes. The sound of his car’s brakes screeching, the flashing lights that nearly blinded him as he came too, the blood trickling down his head… He could still hear the screams, though he could never differentiate if they were his own or someone else's. To his right, his best friend laid limp in the car seat. Hudson tried to reach for him, but the further he reached out, the further Teddy slipped away.
The cause of the crash was still unknown to the general public - it was considered a ‘freak accident’ to most. But Sonny knew that wasn’t true. The empty beer cans in his back seat said otherwise.
Hudson King was a murderer.
At this very moment, he should be sitting in a jail cell.
Instead, he sat in his bedroom, just like he had for the last six months, letting the guilt eat away at him with each passing minute. The guitar, a gift from Teddy, would continue to collect dust, just as he would continue to drown his sorrows in the very thing that caused them.
|