Home Again

[Dorian Innes]

[[This scene directly follows Boggarts & Bogeys, which Jae and I still need to finish but we more or less know how it ends.]]


Saturday, 12 November 2005
Mid-morning
Dorian stirred, his mind foggy and his body heavy with the familiar weight of another hangover. He slowly opened his eyes, only to squeeze them shut again as the light filtering through the curtains sent a sharp throb through his skull. His pounding head, dry throat, and churning stomach told the same story as every other morning lately—too much Firewhisky, too many cigarettes. The stale scent of smoke clung to him, sour and acrid, a reminder of how far he’d let himself spiral. This routine was as predictable as it was miserable, a cycle he seemed unable and unwilling to break.

But amidst the physical discomfort, there was a sense of peace, a rare calm he hadn’t experienced in so long. The bed beneath him felt right; comforting and familiar. Dorian smiled and, with a contented sigh, rolled over to pull Selah into an embrace. His brow furrowed in confusion when his arm found only empty space, and he listened for the usual sounds—the shower running, or the gentle rustle of her getting ready for work—but there was only silence. She must have already left, he reasoned, but an uneasy thought tugged at the back of his mind, like he was forgetting something important.

Ignoring the unease and determined to hold on to whatever trace of Selah remained, Dorian shifted closer to her side of the bed, burying his face in her pillow. The scent of her skin, still faintly lingering on the fabric, wrapped around him, offering a comfort he hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. Dorian felt himself drifting again, hoping that a few more hours of sleep would ease his hangover. But just as he teetered back into unconsciousness, the unease returned, sharper now, like something was slipping out of place. Then, suddenly, reality slammed into him with gut-wrenching clarity. His eyes snapped open, fully alert, as the truth hit him all at once.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

The sudden awareness sent a rush of panic through his chest. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in this bed, not in this house. Dorian’s mind raced, scrambling to remember how he had ended up back in the home he’d left months ago. The relief of being somewhere familiar now felt like a hollow comfort, as the weight of his decisions and failures crashed over him all at once, pulling him under.

Dorian tried to stand—he needed to get out of here—but his head throbbed painfully and the room spun violently around him. Sinking back down to the edge of the bed, he cradled his aching head in his hands, struggling to piece together the fragmented memories of the night before that had led him to this place—this place that felt like home, yet, painfully, wasn’t.

How had he gotten here?

[[To be continued!]]