Fighting the Crave
John sat in the three years room. The night before had been a bad night, he had hurt his little girl, his little girl that he loved so much.
He watched as her chest steadily rose and fell with every breath. Amber slept peacefully in spite of her burns that she had reached from the scolding hot water the night before.
She lay on her side arms around a teddy bear, her shoulder length brown hair falling a little over her small, round face. John sat in a chair next to the bed holding a beer in his hands. He would watch his daughter for a few minutes then look at his beer.
'What am I doing?' he thought to himself. 'Neither Mary nor Heather would want me to morn them like this.' John got lost in his thoughts not really looking at anything in particular. He had a far off look on his face.
When he came out of his thoughts John sat his beer on the night stand next to his daughter's bed and moved closer to Amber. He lightly pushed her hair off her face. He sat there for a minute looking at the features of her face. "You look just like you mother, so beautiful." John whispered then kissed her on the forehead. "I'm sorry for what I've done my little Bambi. I love you baby." Silent tears sprang into his eyes. He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. New feelings of sadness filled in him, the sadness of losing two wives and the sadness of his child's pains on his hands.
John again picked put the beer and stared at it for a moment.
Amber moved in her sleep to lie on her back; the teddy bear still in her arms. "Good night little one," John said. He got up from the chair and walked over to the door. He looked back one more time at his sleeping daughter, and then closed the door.
After closing the door he looked at the bottle in his hands. He put the bottle to his lips. He had given into the crave. John couldn't fight the crave, not now. He wasn't in the state of mind to fight the crave. The crave was a fight that John would have for many years to come.