As Charles arose out of bed every muscle and joint in his body ached he felt more like a man of sixty then forty. He felt old, broken and alone. Charles slowly made his way to the open window as the curtains softly billowed up gently brushing against his right hand as he reached out to close the window. When there he saw a black mass moving behind the curtains on the window ledge as he slowly moved the curtain back he jumped with a startled scream as a massive black cat hissed up at him lashing out with a huge paw, white fangs bared, slashing the back of his right hand, tearing four long crimson gashes, with all the pain and precision of a surgeon's scalpel. "Jesus Christ!" Charles shrieked as the startled cat leapt from the window sill down out to the lawn where it disappeared behind a long row of lilac bushes. Blood spurted from the wound as he slammed the window shut, with so much force it nearly shattered. Frightened and in sudden agony he stepped back as he saw fresh red stains on the white drapes Charles stumbled to the bathroom to clean and disinfect the wound.
Fumbling to turn on the light he went to the sink and ran cold water over the scratches though it caused him great pain to do so. As the water flowed he looked up at his reflection in the mirror. His dark blue eyes were bloodshot and glazed, his short black hair was greasy and disheveled. Charles noticed his blond roots were beginning to show and he would have to dye his hair again soon, but he hadn't the time this morning. He had not shaved in many days, nor brushed his teeth, he felt a thick coating of plaque and bacteria on his tounge like a blanket of algea. He looked into his cold dead eyes and wondered if he had any remnants of a soul remaining after all the things he had done. Shaking his head Charles let out a heavy sigh feeling more alone and isolated than ever before.
Fumbling to turn on the light he went to the sink and ran cold water over the scratches though it caused him great pain to do so. As the water flowed he looked up at his reflection in the mirror. His dark blue eyes were bloodshot and glazed, his short black hair was greasy and disheveled. Charles noticed his blond roots were beginning to show and he would have to dye his hair again soon, but he hadn't the time this morning. He had not shaved in many days, nor brushed his teeth, he felt a thick coating of plaque and bacteria on his tounge like a blanket of algea. He looked into his cold dead eyes and wondered if he had any remnants of a soul remaining after all the things he had done. Shaking his head Charles let out a heavy sigh feeling more alone and isolated than ever before.
