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It's been another night filled with vodka and vomit; now she's hunched over on the bathroom floor and she'd give anything to have someone to hold her hair back as her misery meets the toilet. Once again, she falls asleep on the grimy tile.
The sun shines brightly through the tiny window, waking her up. She makes her way to the sink and takes a look in the mirror. She can scarcely recognize the face staring back at her. Her blond hair, once shiny and perfect, is now greasy, dull and unkempt; her lips are cracked and bleeding. The heavy shadows under her eyes stand out harshly against her exceedingly pale skin. Those hazel eyes once so full of wonder and excitement are cold and empty.
She turns on the water and slashes some on her face. She grips the sink tightly and wonders, "how did I end up like this?"
She walks out of the bathroom and into the hallway of the tiny motel room she's been renting out for the past couple of months. The floor is strewn with liquor bottles, clothes, garbage, and who know what else.
She changes out of yesterday's clothes and into a ratty white tank top and some ripped jeans. She looks at the clock. It's 2:37, which means she's late for work. Oh well, they can find someone to fill in. She has more important things to do, like figuring out her life. She sits on the bed; closes her eyes, and begins relive the past year and a half of her life.
The drinking started in high school. She was awkward and nerdy and it was way to feel better in social situations. It made her loosen up, feel better about herself. It only got worse when she went to college. She went to parties every night, hooked up with random guys, and skipped her classes.
She dropped out before first semester even ended - that had pissed her parents off more than anything; they had paid all this money for her to go to school and she didn't even stay. They knew she had a problem, they had urged her to get help. She denied and deflected their questions and suggestions. Her parents had refused to speak with her until she got the help she needed.
With no permanent home, she started crashing on friends' couches. They too got fed up with her drinking. Before long she was homeless, living out of her piece of junk car. Night after night she had gone to the ravine, focused on drinking her troubles away.
After growing tired of sleeping in the backseat of her car, she began looking for work. There weren't many job options for a college dropout. The only place that would hire her was The Dot.
She started saving her tips and soon had enough money to rent a motel room. When she wasn't working, she was drinking, and when she wasn't drinking, she was throwing up because she had been drinking.
She opens her eyes and runs a hand through her hair.
"Oh god," she says aloud "I'm such a mess."
She picks up the phone and dials a familiar number.
The phone rings a few times and then someone speaks, "Hello?" says a familiar voice on the other end.
Silence.
"Hello?" the voice asks again.
More Silence.
"Mom, it's me," she finally says.
Click. Her mother hangs up.
She puts down the phone and plops on the bed. Tears stream down her face. She's called everyday for the past month, but today was the first time she'd said a word. She just wanted to hear her mother's voice. She didn't blame her mom for hanging up on her. If her estranged daughter had called her, she would have hung up too.
She soon dozes off, waking several hours later. She showers, brushes the tangles out of her hair, and puts on a clean outfit.
Tonight, she decides, will be the last time she drinks.
She gets in the car and drives to the liquor store.
Her fake ID buys her a pint of vodka and a bottle of Jack Daniel's. As soon as she reaches the car, the bottle of Jack is open. She gulps it down, ignoring the intense burning as it slides down her throat. The bottle is gone before she's even driven a mile. She moves on to the vodka, sipping slowly. Her vision is blurring. She has a hard time determining where she is.
Suddenly, the car collides with something big and solid, a wall. Her head ricochets off the steering wheel and everything goes black.
She rouses a week later in a hospital bed. She sits up and her head begins to pound. Her mother, who is sleeping in a chair by her bedside, is clutching her hand gently. A large bandage covers her forehead and scratches run down her cheek.
The door opens and her father walks in. He smiles but says nothing. She finds it weird that they're here, seeing as she hasn't spoken to either of them in over a year.
A week later, she's in a courtroom being charged with a DUI. Because she made a deal, she gets 6 months of driving probation instead of one year.
At the request of her parents, she has decided to go to monthly AA meetings. On the day of her first meeting, she showers, gets dressed, and brushes her hair until it shines. Her father drops her off at the meeting center. She walks through the doors into a small room.
Thirteen plastic chairs are set up in a circle, twelve of which are already filled. They're waiting for her to begin. She takes her seat and smiles politely at the group. The chairperson stands up.
"Welcome everyone," he says, "before we begin the meeting, I'd like to have our newest member introduce herself."
He gestures towards her. She stands up and takes a deep breath.
"My name is Emma, and I'm an alcoholic."
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