Upon hearing Tom’s voice from down the hallway, Sonia immediately walked out of the bedroom and headed in the direction of the study.
She came to a stop at the doorway, and Tom gestured into the study as he said grimly, “President Fuller is in there, Miss Reed.”
Sonia muttered something in acknowledgment, then poked her head into the room, only to see Toby sitting slumped on the ground with his back against the desk. His head was lowered, hiding the expression on his face, and she couldn’t tell if he was asleep or passed out.
She pursed her lips and walked over to him warily, then saw how he looked up close.
The shirt he wore was wrinkled, and his necktie hung loosely around the collar. There were even pinkish and yellowish stains on his white shirt that became evidence of his rough night of drinking. She noted gravely how even his hair was mussed, and at that moment, he looked as miserable and unkempt as a weathered vagabond.
Sonia felt her heart twist at the sight of him. In two long strides, she came to a stop next to him and was immediately assaulted by the pungent scent of alcohol that wafted off him; it pricked her nose and brought tears to her eyes in record time.
Frowning, she resisted the urge to turn away from the overpowering scent, then crouched down to help Toby onto his feet.
As of now, his eyes were tightly shut, and his brows furrowed. He looked to have fallen into an uneasy sleep and had detached himself from the rest of the world.
Sonia patted his face lightly, calling out frantically, “Toby? Hey, wake up!” However, there was no response from him, and if she hadn’t put a finger under his nose to make sure he was breathing, she would have thought he had died in his sleep.
Behind her, Tom was assessing Toby’s condition. Having seen the latter’s lack of response, he pointed out, “President Fuller is most likely wasted.”
Sonia hummed. “Probably. It’s no surprise, given the amount of alcohol he consumed. I guess it’s fortunate that the wine he took wasn’t too strong. Otherwise, we might have lost him!”
She grew furious and unsettled as she thought about the bottles she had seen scattered around the living room. While she was worried about how his body was going to purge that much alcohol, she was also outraged by how he had taken all that wine without first considering his own health.
Tom sighed. “You know, President Fuller used to dabble in much stronger stuff like whiskey or Louis XIII. There was one year where he got acute alcohol poisoning and had to get his stomach pumped at the hospital to save his life. Old Mrs. Fuller confiscated his entire liquor collection after that, then forbade the cellar to deliver liquor to him ever again. President Fuller probably knew how much of a fright he gave Old Mrs. Fuller, so he never bought hard liquor again, settling instead for red wines with lower alcohol contents.”
“Oh, I see,” Sonia said quietly with a nod.
“But...”
Seeing how Tom suddenly grew reluctant to speak, she allowed Toby to rest his head on her shoulder, then addressed Tom, “But what?”
Tom pinched the space between his brows. “It’s more likely than not that President Fuller decided to drink away his sorrows today, hoping that the alcohol would be enough to numb him. There was a time when hard liquor was all he needed to numb the pain, but toward the end, when the alcohol wasn’t enough of an escape for him, he turned to self-harming to lessen his agony.”
“So you’re telling me that his selfharming tendencies weren’t there at the beginning?” she asked, gazing down at the man in her arms.
Nodding, Tom explained, “Yes, that’s right. The self-harming only started after Old Mrs. Fuller stopped him from drinking hard liquor.”
“I understand now.” Sonia chewed on her lip, then carefully laid Toby down on the floor. “Mr. Brown, could you please check and see if there are any wounds on him that we should tend to while I cook him some hangover soup?”
“Of course.” Having replied, Tom immediately went over to inspect Toby.
Sonia tried to smooth out the tufts and spikes of Toby’s mussed hair as much as she could, then straightened up. She walked out the door and headed into the kitchen, leaving Tom and Toby in the study.
Having ascertained that there were no wounds on Toby’s body, Tom heaved him up from the floor and helped him over to the couch, then sighed as he looked at the unconscious man in resignation.
In truth, with Toby’s high tolerance for alcohol, it would take more than a few bottles of wine to knock him out like this. And yet, here we are. I guess President Fuller just couldn’t take the sadness and the grief anymore, and the wine actually caused his body to go into overdrive. Under normal circumstances, he would have harmed himself instead of lying unconscious on the floor.
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