The head felt like it had been split open with an axe.
Truman slowly opened his eyes. In the darkness, he couldn't see much, only vaguely a ceiling.
The soft mattress beneath him gave him a sense of comfort. He liked soft beds, and this one was even better and more comfortable than the one at his home.
Memories from before he fell into a stupor quickly surged up. He abruptly sat up, followed by a sharp inhalation of breath.
The excessive movement caused a tearing pain in his head. He couldn't help but raise his hand to his forehead, squinting and taking a couple of deep breaths until the discomforting pain slightly subsided.
"I can't drink that much anymore...," he admonished himself. Everyone knows drinking is not only bad for the body but can also lead to unexpected incidents. Yet sometimes, emotions reach a point where it's hard to control.
Yesterday...?
