Published at 12th of August 2024 7:31 am

Chapter 91 Addiction

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

After completing both his meal and his duty of feeding Mabel, Elmer returned the cutleries which had been used during those activities to the kitchen’s wash sink. Then he found his way back beneath the white walls of his room, leaving the mouth-filled Mary, who was still on her food, and as well scribbling the items he’d told her to jot down, in the living room.

Elmer picked up the pocket watch that was placed in the center of his reading desk and clicked it open, allowing the sounds the minute hand made as it moved to make entrance into his ears.

“Hmm… Seven’ O’clock,” he mumbled, closing the pocket watch and placing it to the side of the desk as he took a seat.

He then pulled open the right half of the double drawer the reading desk possessed, and let his eyes, which were covered by round lens glasses, gaze upon the ball pen and the stack of unused papers placed within it.

As soon as he stretched forth his arm in an attempt to take hold of the ball pen in the drawer—along with a piece of paper—a long, heavy yawn poured out from him. And that caused his hand to retract sharply, forcing him to send two fingers beneath the rims of his glasses to pinch his eyes.

A weighty sensation of tiredness, tacked on with a sickening pang of a crunching headache, stormed his body in that instant, bringing to his notice that the essence of vitality he’d absorbed into his system to keep his physique functioning had been exhausted.

“Blimey!” Elmer spat groggily, and of course wasted no time in imbuing his system with another round of vitality essence.

He hated feeling the effects of his sleep deprivation, especially how his mind turned hallucinatory in the process, lowering his brain’s productivity and causing him to become excessively out of sorts. And most of all, the illusions he always had whenever he allowed that world of tiredness to linger for a little over thirty minutes.

“My early morning sleep isn’t doing much any longer,” Elmer muttered under his breath, the illusory green spirituality essence he’d sent into his internal body through his nose finally kicking into action, reinvigorating him with new energy. “And it seems the effects of not sleeping at night are getting worse. The vitality essence isn’t even lasting as long anymore.” He wiped the sweat on his forehead with his right palm and brought it into his view after. “My physicality weakening is beginning to contaminate my spirituality as well. Blimey bugger! That’s bad. Even using my heightened hearing doesn’t change my sleeping predicament. Curse the constant nightmares… What am I supposed to do?!”

Elmer was starting to feel irritated and anxious. And since this was not the first time this sort of feeling had come to disrupt his daily routine of life, he knew the only thing that could calm him down at this moment.

He reached for the opened drawer again, but this time somewhat hesitantly, and not for the ball pen or piece of paper he’d had in mind to retrieve before. His hand went deeper into the depths of the drawer until it felt a cold, metal box, palm-sized and easily concealed.

Bringing it out, the words: ‘Lord Carragher’s Cigarettes. Smoke responsibly’, inscribed on the intricate silver case, appeared before his instantly dilated pupils. And that caused a tingling sensation to quickly take over his body from the anxiety he had been feeling.

Just one more time… Was the lie his brain conjured as he exhaled and opened the case, revealing a very small bronze lighter and three sticks of cigarette—the remainder of the ten that always came with a brand new pack.

Elmer took out a stick, placing it between his lips as he put down the silver case on the table. But just as he grabbed hold of the bronze lighter and flipped it open, intending to spark a flame at the end of his cigarette, he suddenly recalled a person he’d left waiting back at Tooth and Nails on a nerve-wracking night three months back.

Polly Bagley.

Although, despite the subtle contrition he felt for bailing out on Polly, it was not the promise he had made to her that had taken his mind toward her existence; it was the conversation he’d had with her way before he’d made her any promise. One which had covered the effects of smoking on a person’s health and mind; and also, how he didn’t smoke.

Elmer took a glance at Mabel then, his lips embosoming his cigarette stick firmly, while his right thumb an inch away from clicking the spark wheel of the lighter he was holding.

Maybe it was fate knowing that he would one day become a smoker, since he’d instinctively chosen the part of the bed closest to the window for Mabel.

Well, he was not going to bring up the thought that he had no choice due to his circumstances, because he did have plenty which could have prevented him from picking up a cigarette stick, one of them which involved visiting a psychiatrist to help with his issues.

But that was not something he could do, was it?

Psychiatrists had very special abilities that helped them draw out information from their patients, a notable one being hypnosis.

The fact that he was an Ascender was not going to protect him from falling prey to such measures since he would be allowing them to do what they had to do to help him, and in return causing his mouth to let loose with every single thing he’d ever been a part of.

To him, that was unacceptable.

Then there was the possibility of the psychiatrist he’d employ being the Ascender that was seeking him out. That would be even worse. Because he’d be vulnerable after being subjected to the hypnotic ability psychiatrists had, and therefore be killed on the spot, or taken to the Church, or whatever was done to the corrupted ones.

Elmer had come to the conclusion that smoking was far preferable than subjecting himself to choices he was not a hundred percent sure would work. And so far, the tobacco the cigarettes were made of was helping keep his mind stable and relaxed, causing his hesitancy to grow lesser as the days went by.

He knew deep down that he was already addicted, but he was not trying to fight it.

In his case, maybe the addiction was good.

The lighter clicked and a warm flame popped out of its nozzle before being led to the butt of the cigarette in Elmer’s mouth.

A drag, an exhale, and then a long line of smoke left Elmer’s lips in such a perfect manner that it almost seemed as though it would never disperse.

Following that action up was a soft clang, signifying the closure of the lighter’s lid, and next was the case of cigarettes being pushed back into the hidden depths of the opened drawer—the lighter having been returned into it.

Elmer used his left hand’s fore and middle finger to gently take hold of his cigarette as he brought out a small and round metallic ashtray from the drawer and placed it on the table. After that finally came forth the main things he had pulled the drawer open for, the ball pen and a piece of paper.

Heaving out another thick wisp of smoke into the air, Elmer felt the irritation and anxiety that had been clouding his body simmer down.

As usual, the components of the tobacco that made up his cigarette were working as perfectly as he wanted. Now his mind was in a relaxed state, which meant that he could calmly decipher a way to create the best possible method to receive job requests.

He had a slight nervous feeling though—his hair standing across his arms made that quite noticeable. But since it was just the risk regarding what he was about to do that was causing such a reaction from his body, he paid it no mind. After all, his whole life was filled with risks. That was the only way he could make sure his foot moved forward even a bit.

Tapping the butt of his cigarette to let down its ashes into the ashtray on the left side of his reading desk, Elmer set forth his pen on the clear, white paper before him as he said, “Let’s create the reaper’s prayer.”

Share