Oliver Gibson stood in front of his bathroom sink dry heaving, painfully gagging and coughing for a few moments before splashing a handful of cold water on his face trying to soothe his fevered brow. Wiping his mouth with a filthy towel he sat on the toilet seat as he reached over to the counter where a still smoldering joint sat perfectly balanced on the edge of the counter. He picked it up inhaling deeply off the sweet pungent marijuana cigarette as the acrid smoke expanded in his lungs Oliver coughed hard as his eyes throbbed, bloodshot, and glazed. Oliver wished he did not drink so much tequila last night, he also wished that he had some more cocaine, but he had snorted it all up a few hours ago.
"Stupid bastard!" he cursed himself as he ran a paint splattered hand through his short, dirty, greasy brown hair. Oliver took a few more tokes off the joint before flushing it down the toilet. Oliver may have been out of tequila and cocaine, but this was Texas, and he always had plenty of weed.
He turned on the shower and brushed his teeth as he waited for the water to heat up. As he looked at his reflection he noted to himself the terrible toll drugs and alcohol had taken on his once boyish good looks. All the endless, sleepless nights left him with sand paper for skin, dark circles and bags under his eyes. 'My God,' he thought 'I'm only twenty seven!' He looked like a man of forty and he felt like he was fifty. Finding no comfort in the mirror Oliver got into the hot shower to clean himself up.
Downstairs Mr.Pruce and Charles were on their way up on the elevator of the high-rise off Hall and McKinney. It was still very early in the morning and most of the residents were either at work or still sleeping. The two men made their way to Oliver's apartment #2838 the door was, of course, locked but our Mr.Pruce had been a very skilled locksmith back in his day and he, with the help of a little metal tool, opened up the door with ease and quickness. Charles thought that this was about all the man was good for. The two men entered the darkened apartment when they were both hit the face with the disgusting odor of rotten milk, mold, oil paint, turpentine and something, they were not sure could be, that was coming from the kitchen off to their right. The living room was covered with trash, clothes, paint splattered drop cloths; which were covering the furniture that was pushed up against the far wall. They could hear the sound of running water coming from the shower.
"He's in the loo." Mr.Pruce said covering his mouth with his handkerchief.
"Go and get him." Charles said calmly in a hushed tone.
