Self-Pity Dealer

My routine has become consistent. It’s like the schedule Mother and I try to keep Scorpius on.

His days start with a bottle. I suppose mine do too.

I’ve arranged a timetable for my self-loathing and self-destruction. The stability comforts me, even when I feel I don’t deserve it.

One day, I get a letter. It’s from Granger, and the words splinter my regimen of loneliness.