Abby slowly climbed the stairs to her apartment. Her head was spinning.
Maybe taking that beer wasn't such a good idea. Yet, Joyce seemed so kind
to offer.
"One. Only one," she had told herself. Just enough to numb the memories of the horrible day that she had endured: her birthday.
As the amber liquid slid down her throat slowly, her body relaxed just long enough for her to realize how she had fallen back into a habit that she did not have the power to stop. She wanted to scream at herself for putting herself in that position. She wanted to scream at herself for not being strong enough to put the beer down. Despite her good intentions, she did not put the beer down and soon, one beer became two and two morphed into three, and after that she lost count.
~ * ~ o ~ * ~
Some time later, Abby and Joyce parted company and she had trudged dizzily up the flight of stairs leading to her apartment. She opened the door and automatically flicked on the floor lamp causing her to squint in the harsh light it cast. She became all too aware of her aching head and the way that the room began to sway in psychedelic Hell.
"Damn!" She cursed herself aloud and proceeded to walk over to the sofa, collapsing on its soft cushions. She willed herself to sleep but her body wasn't co-operating. Slowly, she drifted off in to a restless sleep.
~ * ~ o ~ * ~
Abby slowly stirred from the alcohol-induced slumber of last night, snapping her eyes open sharply before closing them again. The room was bright, too bright for her at this time of the morning. With her head throbbing, Abby propped herself up on the sofa surveying her living room with eyes that had seen so many things. Sighing, the woman inside of her who had attended so many Alcoholic Anonymous meetings told her that she had to talk to someone about this horrible mistake.
She had to talk about her relapse and how she had fallen back into her old ways. Old habits die hard, she thought. She had to talk to someone but whom should she turn to? She thought about if for a moment. She considered talking to Luka. He was sweet and she knew that he would listen to her. However, Nurse Lockhart was most definitely not in the mood to explain her entire history to him, not with her head aching like it was. Carter, she thought. Carter, her best friend and hopefully willing confidante, knew that she was an alcoholic and would help her without a second thought, no questions asked.
Reaching out for the telephone, Abby lifted out of its cradle and started to punch in the number that she had memorized long ago. Yet she hung up midway through. What was she thinking? His mother was there. She couldn't call him now. She thought how she would just be another unwanted burden that he had to deal with. She couldn't do that to him. Not now.
By now, Abby began to feel incredibly guilty for what she had done. How the hell could I have been so stupid as to do this to myself? Five years! Five freaking years without touching a drop! Why did I accept that beer? What the hell was I thinking? All of these thoughts swam in her head, fighting to be heard. She had fallen back into the horrid old routine. She would come home, get drunk and pass out waking on the sofa the following morning with a hang over, go to work and come back home to start all over again. It was a cycle. A vicious cycle that she thought had killed five years ago, and now it had caught up with her again. Falling back in to the downward spiral again.
Falling back, passing out on the sofa, fighting a losing battle with the same demons that she had fought so hard to beat five years ago. She was falling back and she was unable to stand. She was unable to run away. Unable to be free.
~ * ~ o ~ * ~
Author's Note:
Hi all! Thank you for reading. Please send feedback. I don't care what it says: just something to say that you read it. Please. It would make a gal's day. Thanks to Charlotte for being a wonderful beta reader. :)
Later all!
- Lydia.
"One. Only one," she had told herself. Just enough to numb the memories of the horrible day that she had endured: her birthday.
As the amber liquid slid down her throat slowly, her body relaxed just long enough for her to realize how she had fallen back into a habit that she did not have the power to stop. She wanted to scream at herself for putting herself in that position. She wanted to scream at herself for not being strong enough to put the beer down. Despite her good intentions, she did not put the beer down and soon, one beer became two and two morphed into three, and after that she lost count.
~ * ~ o ~ * ~
Some time later, Abby and Joyce parted company and she had trudged dizzily up the flight of stairs leading to her apartment. She opened the door and automatically flicked on the floor lamp causing her to squint in the harsh light it cast. She became all too aware of her aching head and the way that the room began to sway in psychedelic Hell.
"Damn!" She cursed herself aloud and proceeded to walk over to the sofa, collapsing on its soft cushions. She willed herself to sleep but her body wasn't co-operating. Slowly, she drifted off in to a restless sleep.
~ * ~ o ~ * ~
Abby slowly stirred from the alcohol-induced slumber of last night, snapping her eyes open sharply before closing them again. The room was bright, too bright for her at this time of the morning. With her head throbbing, Abby propped herself up on the sofa surveying her living room with eyes that had seen so many things. Sighing, the woman inside of her who had attended so many Alcoholic Anonymous meetings told her that she had to talk to someone about this horrible mistake.
She had to talk about her relapse and how she had fallen back into her old ways. Old habits die hard, she thought. She had to talk to someone but whom should she turn to? She thought about if for a moment. She considered talking to Luka. He was sweet and she knew that he would listen to her. However, Nurse Lockhart was most definitely not in the mood to explain her entire history to him, not with her head aching like it was. Carter, she thought. Carter, her best friend and hopefully willing confidante, knew that she was an alcoholic and would help her without a second thought, no questions asked.
Reaching out for the telephone, Abby lifted out of its cradle and started to punch in the number that she had memorized long ago. Yet she hung up midway through. What was she thinking? His mother was there. She couldn't call him now. She thought how she would just be another unwanted burden that he had to deal with. She couldn't do that to him. Not now.
By now, Abby began to feel incredibly guilty for what she had done. How the hell could I have been so stupid as to do this to myself? Five years! Five freaking years without touching a drop! Why did I accept that beer? What the hell was I thinking? All of these thoughts swam in her head, fighting to be heard. She had fallen back into the horrid old routine. She would come home, get drunk and pass out waking on the sofa the following morning with a hang over, go to work and come back home to start all over again. It was a cycle. A vicious cycle that she thought had killed five years ago, and now it had caught up with her again. Falling back in to the downward spiral again.
Falling back, passing out on the sofa, fighting a losing battle with the same demons that she had fought so hard to beat five years ago. She was falling back and she was unable to stand. She was unable to run away. Unable to be free.
~ * ~ o ~ * ~
Author's Note:
Hi all! Thank you for reading. Please send feedback. I don't care what it says: just something to say that you read it. Please. It would make a gal's day. Thanks to Charlotte for being a wonderful beta reader. :)
Later all!
- Lydia.