The smell of alchohol reeked off the once composed man as he poured another shot of vodka down his throat.

How many times this week has he wallowed away? He doesn't remember.

Anything to keep him from thinking. To keep him out of his own head.

Dearan Carroll. Once a beautiful and kind seraphim that was now reduced to.. Nothing but a coward drinking his issues away.

Rum, Burbon, Vodka especially, became his own heaven on earth after being shunned from the pearly gates he once loved. How pitiful.

He ran a hand through unkempt hair, hunching over the coffee table as he stared down at the vodka in hand boredly.