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I want to go in there so bad, but my hands are glued to the wheel. My lifeline.
It’s just one sip.
I close my eyes. I should leave. Drive away.
I put my hand on the key to turn the ignition back on and as I open my eyes, I notice the bottle of Jack looking right at me. Calling my name.
Fuck it.
I go inside to buy the biggest bottle of Jack Daniels they have.
Getting back into the car, I look over at the bottle sitting on my passenger seat. “Hello, old friend.”
Pulling up to the hotel, I get out, bottle in hand, and let the guy get in to park my car in the hotel garage. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing, Lo.” He speeds off, the tires screeching as I head inside.
As soon as I get into my room, I sit down on the sofa and set the bottle on the table in front of me.
This is a battle of wills, but I’m fighting against myself.
I shouldn’t open it. I shouldn’t have even bought it.
I haven’t had a drink in so long, I can’t recall the exact day I quit drinking.
This can kill me, and I know that. But I’m so thirsty…
I have to be stronger than the bottle. I have a little girl to look after and to set an example for. I want her to be proud of me.
I quit this shit for a reason. I did it for them.
I get up and take the bottle to the sink.
Unscrewing it, I decide to take just a whiff of its scent before dumping it down the drain.
The enticing aroma has my throat screaming for a taste.
I quit for them. But I don’t have them anymore…
No, I can’t drink.
I look down at the sink and tilt it, but before even a drip comes out, I sniff at the mouth of the bottle again.
I don’t have them anymore. I lost them. So, why shouldn’t I drink?
It’s not like anyone cares anyway.
I put the bottle to my lips and freeze for a second.
I shouldn’t.
No, I shouldn’t, but I have nothing left to lose, so I don’t care anymore.
Besides, I’ll just take a sip and dump the rest.
I take a sip.
Heaven.
