Disclaimer: The characters of CSI do not belong to me. Also Nyquil and Listerine are both trademarked and also do not belong to me.

A/N: This is a rather dark piece dealing with the sensitive subject of alcoholism. Any constructive criticism is welcomed, flames are not.

Hitting Bottom

Listerine.

Nyquil.

Isopropyl Alcohol.

Every night she stares at them. They call to her like a siren and each night her resolve gets weaker - the need greater.

They sit in her medicine cabinet looking as innocent as a new born baby. Their benefits are clearly stated on the bottles - use any of these items and you will feel better.

And God does she want to feel better.

She has heard about alcoholics who drink whatever they can find so long as it has even a minuscule amount of alcohol in it.

She had always scoffed at them. She would never be like them. She is in control.

But now she stares long and hard and those bottles are starting to look like pints of the best Russian vodka.

Her palms start to sweat and her lower lip starts to quiver in anticipation. It's as if her body knows that it's just a matter of time before she gives in to this deadly temptation. Her body busily prepares for that first sip and the burn that will follow.

And it will burn - those fist few sips will leave her retching at the alter of the porcelain god. But she'll do it anyway and keep on doing it - maybe not today - maybe not tomorrow - but someday. Someday she will take that step. The temptation will get too great and the despair too overwhelming.

Just one sip to take the edge off.

The long day's journey into night will begin with that single sip and in the end the night will swallow her whole.

THE END