Chapter One

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The bitter taste of the cheap whisky burns the back of my throat. It will blur my vision in a matter of minutes. But, that will not matter. It is the ability to escape from my mind, harboring the memories of him.  

"Shawn?" Alison my sister calls out my name. Like an angelic voice trying to pierce the depths of hell. My personal hell. Her eyes are non-judgmental but it is not her job to clean up my mess. But she does it anyways. 

"Yes!" I yell the words before taking another sip of my cheap whisky

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"Yes!" I yell the words before taking another sip of my cheap whisky. Trying to hide the bottle underneath the mattress. It is no use, as she already knows in thirty minutes I will be a lost cause. 

"Please try to limit your intake tonight? And keep it down?" Alison pleads softly. 

She sees all these reruns of Intervention dropping subtle hints. But, she would never have the guts to go through it. I want to believe I am not like most of the alcoholics on the show, desperate, needy, and overall sad. But, the reflection in the mirror that has a spiderweb crack in the corner does not. 

We are all the same

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We are all the same. Addicts. Some type of pain we try to cover up with a vice. My cheeks are hollow, skin slightly yellow, and my dark brown eyes are just lifeless. A zombie inside of a living person. 

"I cannot make any promises," I remark honestly.

Alison lets out a sigh putting her hands on her hips. She is as tall as me. But, her blond hair is in a sleek bob, and her blue eyes are light. She keeps herself in shape by running for an hour and then doing yoga with a few of her friends. No evidence that she had my nephew, Jonathan a few months ago.

"I worry about you," She whispers reaching over to touch my cheek. "We already lost dad, and mom well her dementia is so bad. She does not remember anything. Shawn, I would never forgive myself if something happens to you."

"Please do not worry," I slur my words. The light above me spins as if it was a strobe light. Alison puts a glass of water out and two small aspirin. Already trying to counteract the hangover that will occur in the morning. 

I did not use to be like this.... a broken, drunk. I was full of life and in love.... but that love reduced me to this state. And for that, I hate Andrew Gertler. 

 

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