Detective Euan Fitzpatrick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lovesguinness) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2013-11-12 05:06 pm
lovesguinness) wrote in muserevival2013-11-12 05:06 pm
Entry tags:
042.3. Drabble
"Born to Be Wild"
Euan was onto his eighth cup of coffee. He was pretty sure that over the years he had built a tolerance for caffeine, because the fucker didn’t even put a dent in the brain dead exhaustion he was feeling now. He stretched back in the uncomfortable plastic visitors chair beside his son’s hospital bed in the pediatric ward at the hospital. Jesus fucking Christ, he hated seeing him connected to all these tubes and looking the colour he was. What he did know was that he sure as fuck had no intentions of leaving this room until they could at least tell him how long the kid would be in there.
This was never where he could ever have seen his life going. He was a fucking recovering addict, clean for eight years and counting. His corpse should have rotted in a gutter years ago from either Hep C, HIV or OD, but now he was in the NYPD after graduating AA and cursing the F’ing C’s who raised spoilt brats to bully his illegitimate kid. Nothing like a bunch of crapshit anagrams to log your life under. Life was no longer about how many fucks or hits he could have in one day. It wasn’t about mapping his life by new ink to mark occasions. It wasn’t about taking a long, hard fuck in payment of a cellophane bag of badly cut crack. Now it was school schedules, medication regimes, Harry Potter, and Pepto Bismol. It was an eleven year old kneeing you in the ribs at night because he had a nightmare he woke up screaming from and didn’t want to be alone.
Somehow, blinking and missing it, Euan had stopped being a hardass bastard who would fuck himself and others up to get to a goal and had become an anxious father, where everything he did was about protecting a little person who was the only thing that ever came close to making his life feel complete.
Euan Fitzpatrick (Original Character)
Euan was onto his eighth cup of coffee. He was pretty sure that over the years he had built a tolerance for caffeine, because the fucker didn’t even put a dent in the brain dead exhaustion he was feeling now. He stretched back in the uncomfortable plastic visitors chair beside his son’s hospital bed in the pediatric ward at the hospital. Jesus fucking Christ, he hated seeing him connected to all these tubes and looking the colour he was. What he did know was that he sure as fuck had no intentions of leaving this room until they could at least tell him how long the kid would be in there.
This was never where he could ever have seen his life going. He was a fucking recovering addict, clean for eight years and counting. His corpse should have rotted in a gutter years ago from either Hep C, HIV or OD, but now he was in the NYPD after graduating AA and cursing the F’ing C’s who raised spoilt brats to bully his illegitimate kid. Nothing like a bunch of crapshit anagrams to log your life under. Life was no longer about how many fucks or hits he could have in one day. It wasn’t about mapping his life by new ink to mark occasions. It wasn’t about taking a long, hard fuck in payment of a cellophane bag of badly cut crack. Now it was school schedules, medication regimes, Harry Potter, and Pepto Bismol. It was an eleven year old kneeing you in the ribs at night because he had a nightmare he woke up screaming from and didn’t want to be alone.
Somehow, blinking and missing it, Euan had stopped being a hardass bastard who would fuck himself and others up to get to a goal and had become an anxious father, where everything he did was about protecting a little person who was the only thing that ever came close to making his life feel complete.
Euan Fitzpatrick (Original Character)
ooc
Nothing like a bunch of crapshit anagrams to log your life under. I love that line lol
ooc
Re: ooc