Chapter 18: Alcoholic's Anonymous

He doesn't want to be here.

Which is ridiculous because he knows he needs to be here. He holds up the card and shifts around in his place, sweating and swallowing fear. He knows that it's for the best, he knows that she wants him to be here. "Jacob, you need help, please." she begged as he looked up blurrily from the bathtub surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol.

He remembers her dragging him out and into his bed, tucking him in and kissing his forehead. She stayed with him until he fell asleep, stroking her fingers through his messy hair and sprinkling his face with kisses. He remembered he fell asleep crying because she was so beautiful and looked so much like a ghost from his past.

When he woke up the next morning, there was a glass of water and aspirin on his bedside table. He took his time to let it fizz in the water and notices that there's a business card for Alcoholics Anonymous. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and laid back in bed pretending that he was never awake.

Yet, here he is, standing in front of that damn door of a shitty community center in Manhattan sweating through his clothes. It's the middle of January, goddamn it, he shouldn't be sweating. It's not even heated in this goddamn building, and he finds it stupid how it's not. They're in fucking Manhattan, the richest part of the entire city and this goddamn community center cannot provide heat.

He can't go home now, Rosie's waiting for him. She'd welcome him with open arms and ask him how the meeting was and be very disappointed that he didn't go and he can't live with that. He can't live with her being fucking disappointed. At least not sober.

So here is is, standing stiffly at the front doors, running late. Nobody will miss him going there anyway, it's not like he's been there before. He can pull himself together just fine. I mean, it's not like he does half of his commissions roaring drunk or goes throughout his day just a little tipsy, oh no, it's not like that.

He curses his sister under his breath. She made a big production of dumping his entire stash down the drain and smashing the bottles. That entire night was spent screaming at each other. When they were too tired out from fighting they collapsed on his bed and curled up together, apologizing as they drifted off to sleep.

He can just hear her in the back of his head urging him to go in. "Come on Jake," she gently offers. "It's just one meeting, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

But he can't do it. He can't do it because he is a fucking coward. He's already established that he's a coward, but his cowardice shines obnoxiously in his eyes in this moment.

He leans against the wall and buries his face in his hands. His parents would be so disappointed right now. He can just picture his mother's face just broken over the fact that her little boy has become this; something so worthless. And his father would look at him and claim that he didn't know him anymore. Thank god they weren't alive to see him like this.

And then there was her. Oh god, he would die if she saw him like this. Hailey would be heartbroken. She'd ask him why and beg and plead with him.

He's already proven that he's a disgrace to the Gods, he doesn't need to prove it to his family. It makes him sick that he can't even look at Rosie anymore without feeling this deep seated guilt that was planted the day Hailey died.

"I knew you would be here." a voice says. He looks up and it's his little sister. Her hands buried in her coat pockets.

"Why did you follow me here?" he questions, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Because I knew you would need a little help." she gently interjects. "I'm actually surprised you've made it this far."

"Are you insulting me?"

"No, I'm praising you." she insists. She looks past him and at the doors. "Come on, Jake. Nobody's gonna shame you for going in there. Everybody in that room is struggling just like you. They're not going to laugh at you."

"Yeah but-"

She grabs his hand with hers and clasps both of them around it. "We can go in there together. I'll be with you the entire time." she says. "You won't be alone. You'll never be alone, Jacob."

He feels tears brimming and he fights a smile. "Are you sure you're still 19?" he laughs softly.

"Oh shut up," she grins, pushing open the doors and pulling him in.

So yeah... It's been a long time... And the reason it's been a long time is because honestly I've lost my interest in these characters or even updating. I just so happened to be checking my emails and seeing messages from a year or two ago so I came here to check up on all my stories. So I thought, why not just submit these last few pieces I've written about these kooky Stolls. As you will notice, most of them are about Jacob and Rosalie. That's because they were the most fleshed out characters to me. After their stories ended I fleshed them out even more. I made them less of these romanticized characters. I wrote these stories in the beginning to romanticize mental illness and pain. But now I realize pain is not this beautiful thing. So I wrote this as a way to deal with the alcoholism I forced upon Jacob. I don't know how many people will read this but I hope you few enjoy.