Work Text:
Chiseled
Alec Hardy tossed his glasses carelessly on top of the letter that had sealed his fate. In a few weeks' time all of this would end, either way.
His heavy feet shuffled into the bathroom, following a routine his tired brain didn't need to pay attention to any longer. It had become second nature. One hand reached for the glass, the other turned on the faucet to fill it with water. The pill packet appeared in his palm, after being fished from the depths of his trouser pockets without him taken notice. He pushed two tablets out of the plastic blisters and tossed them into his mouth. A swig of water washed them down, leaving only a lingering bitter tang that served as a reminder of how distasteful his existence had become.
Arms stretched out, he braced himself on the sink and leaned forward, closer toward the mirror. The reflection of a man he barely recognized stared back at him. His face bore the marks of his perpetual struggle to keep afloat. Deep lines carved grooves under his orbits, trailing down to his mouth. The many crinkles budding from the corner of his eyes that used to speak of smiles and joy were now chiseled into his face, giving rise to a relief of sorrow and pain. Freckles once telling a tale of happy days spent in the sun stood out in his sickly pale complexion.
Hardy couldn't tear away his gaze, despite the profound discomfort the image evoked in him. He was too exhausted to keep ignoring the truth that stared bluntly in his face. There was still some fight in him left though. Joe Miller's case management hearing was today, and with a guilty plea Hardy could perhaps find the smallest bit of atonement for all his many wrongdoings.
The jarring ring of his mobile jolted him out of his reverie, reminding him of the world around him. With a last glance at the stranger in the mirror, he willed himself to face another day, holding on desperately to the last bits of the man who used to look back at him.