Memories

A man sits in the corner of the diner, staring out the window into the bleak, frozen landscape, his hand trembling as he raises a cup to his lips, allowing the acrid liquid inside to slip down his throat.
A voice calls out, close to him, yet sounding so far away, the rain pelting the glass drowning out all other noises. His eyes drift back towards the table, cup resting on the stained surface once again. In front lay five syringes that were not there before, each one a different colour.
His hand moves before he realises, picking the first syringe up, his free hand pulling the safety cap off before sliding the needle into a well used vein, plunging the golden liquid into his system.
The man slides the syringe back, set off to the side away from the others, just as the chemicals reach his mind. Memories of his happiest days, pulled forth by the drugs coursing through his system, rush to greet him. The words of his girlfriend saying how much she loves him, the sight of her beautiful smile, the smell of her favourite i meal, the feel of her dress. Just as quickly as they come, however, they fade away, the drug breaking down.
Not a single moment of pause comes from the man as the next syringe, a light green, is emptied into his arm. The news of the death of his parents, the very words written on the screen, burn into his mind, as fresh as the day he read them. Tears begin to stream from his face, slumping back in the cheap chair, letting the memory wash over him.
Even as the thoughts begin to slip away, he clings to them for as long as he can, preserving just a few last moments before they’re gone. His eyes drift to the window once again, tears starting to dry, unlike the constant rain. A single sign illuminates the outside, a dull glow displaying a generic advert for the very chemicals he was using.
Pushing the distraction aside, his hand, having steadied itself compared to the last two, push the contents of the third syringe into himself, a soft sigh slipping past his lips once the dull brown liquid is working its way through his body. Cowering in place, the explosions ring around him, burrowing into his pointed ears, even through what protection his hands offered. The blasts of weaponry, fired in all directions, drown out the singular voice the memory provides him, unable to make out even a single word.
Desperately clawing to understand what was said, the man opens his eyes as the sounds fade away, leaving him, once again alone with his current thoughts. Something that he didn’t like, lining the fourth syringe up so he can forget about the current day. The cyan fluid vanishing into his bloodstream as quickly as the plunger let him. An insult flung his way echoes in his ears, stopping in his tracks as he turns around towards the person, the memory of their features faint at best. It was something minor, and yet the man is unable to stop himself as his fist swings forward, barely missing the figure, a laugh coming from them as their own hands swung forward, punishing his overcommitment into his own attack. The shock causes him to shake the thoughts away, sweating in his seat.
A deep breath comes from the man as he picks up each used syringe, dropping them in his empty cup, his other hand tightly gripping the final one. A dull red, gently pulsing with light. One more breath and then the needle presses into his skin, flooding his body with the potent drug. The memory is but a few minutes old, the man glancing around. The familiar chair, the splattering of the rain on the window, the stained table, the acrid taste on his tongue. The hand, moving for him, stabbing himself with the first syringe, fills him with regret. Regret for living such memories again and again, regret for taking himself down this path, regret that now it is the only way he can feel.
A sigh comes from the man as the thoughts fade away, the voice from before calling out to him again, clear enough this time. “Third time today. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” A single strike of lightning illuminates the sky outside, displaying the city in the distance, before it fades away yet again. “It won’t bring any of them back.”