He barely registered the feel of the drink or the coin purse as they entered his hands. His hands shook, sloshing the dark liquid against the sides of the glass. He couldn't bring himself to bring it to his mouth. He couldn't drink it.
It might make him feel better. It might help to numb the pain and make him forget, if only for a short time, about everything he had been through. One drink couldn't hurt. But, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
The glass felt heavy in his hand.
"Do as he saysss. Don't be a fool."
"I will," he spoke through cracked, dry lips. His voice, though he could hardly recognize it as his own, came out raspy and caught in his throat.
For now though, he needed to rest. He needed time to heal. He needed some other way to forget.
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