"Harm?" Mac called disoriented. "Harm? Are you there?" She heard a
far door open and two sets of footsteps. Her call opened and they picked
her up. She walked with them, staggering slightly. It wasn't until she was
thrown into familiar arms that she knew where she was. "Harm/"
"Yeah, it's me. We're going back to mom and dad now, Mac. Everything's gonna be fine."
Mac sighed in relief. She was still disoriented and the car ride made her sick, but as Harm took care of her she felt safe. She had wanted someone to love her for so long, now that she could feel that Harm did, she was not about to give it up. She would fight this addiction and overcome is once and for all... or so she thought, because that night, as Harm slept, the erg to drink reappeared. She lay in bed looking at the ceiling, trying to force her appetite dissipate, but it was in vain. Eventually she gave into the cravings. Therefore, at 3:47 am Mac found herself in the hotel bar with several shots of vodka.
"The strongest is not the one that overcomes the barrier, but the one that realizes that there is a barrier to be crossed." She twisted the parable and downed the shot. After parable number six, telling herself she was not worthy of Harmon Rabb Junior and all her had to offer a multitude of times, and downing twice as many shots; Mac had lost it and was passed out on the bar. She was pulled from the present into a past reality.
"Do you know what this is?" Her father pushed a glass of liquid into her hand that looked like dark apple juice. "This is bourbon: The all- American drink."
She sniffed it and looked at it curiously. She lifted the glass to her mouth and took a sip. She hated it. It stung and tasted horrible; but she dared not tell him, so she continued to drink down the liquid that she had been given. Rarely had she seen her father in a mood remotely as well as this one, and she wouldn't waste it.
This repeated every night, each night a new sort of alcohol. Fist they drank, then he hit her, and then she passed out. The next night it would all start again. The routine. The fights. The drinking. The hangovers.
Time seemed to fast-forward until the crucial night when she was sixteen. Her father had come home from his job in a foul mood and had immediately taken to the gin. It had been hours before she herself had come home, and when she did it had been with her boyfriend, Chris, in tow. As soon as they got into the door they began groping and making out. Only noticing he was there when she heard his slurring voice.
"You, slut!" Her father's voice yelled.
"Fuck off!" She yelled back.
"So, this is what you do when I'm at work working my ass off, you give anyone and everyone a fuck?! You think I don't know. I've heard talk about it. You're just as bad as your mother!"
"You know nothing about me!" She yelled back seeing him rise. She looked over at Chris who was still by the door and headed back to him.
"You come here when I talk to you!" Were the last words she heard before she walked out of the door.
"Yeah, it's me. We're going back to mom and dad now, Mac. Everything's gonna be fine."
Mac sighed in relief. She was still disoriented and the car ride made her sick, but as Harm took care of her she felt safe. She had wanted someone to love her for so long, now that she could feel that Harm did, she was not about to give it up. She would fight this addiction and overcome is once and for all... or so she thought, because that night, as Harm slept, the erg to drink reappeared. She lay in bed looking at the ceiling, trying to force her appetite dissipate, but it was in vain. Eventually she gave into the cravings. Therefore, at 3:47 am Mac found herself in the hotel bar with several shots of vodka.
"The strongest is not the one that overcomes the barrier, but the one that realizes that there is a barrier to be crossed." She twisted the parable and downed the shot. After parable number six, telling herself she was not worthy of Harmon Rabb Junior and all her had to offer a multitude of times, and downing twice as many shots; Mac had lost it and was passed out on the bar. She was pulled from the present into a past reality.
"Do you know what this is?" Her father pushed a glass of liquid into her hand that looked like dark apple juice. "This is bourbon: The all- American drink."
She sniffed it and looked at it curiously. She lifted the glass to her mouth and took a sip. She hated it. It stung and tasted horrible; but she dared not tell him, so she continued to drink down the liquid that she had been given. Rarely had she seen her father in a mood remotely as well as this one, and she wouldn't waste it.
This repeated every night, each night a new sort of alcohol. Fist they drank, then he hit her, and then she passed out. The next night it would all start again. The routine. The fights. The drinking. The hangovers.
Time seemed to fast-forward until the crucial night when she was sixteen. Her father had come home from his job in a foul mood and had immediately taken to the gin. It had been hours before she herself had come home, and when she did it had been with her boyfriend, Chris, in tow. As soon as they got into the door they began groping and making out. Only noticing he was there when she heard his slurring voice.
"You, slut!" Her father's voice yelled.
"Fuck off!" She yelled back.
"So, this is what you do when I'm at work working my ass off, you give anyone and everyone a fuck?! You think I don't know. I've heard talk about it. You're just as bad as your mother!"
"You know nothing about me!" She yelled back seeing him rise. She looked over at Chris who was still by the door and headed back to him.
"You come here when I talk to you!" Were the last words she heard before she walked out of the door.