It was a never-ending battle.
The number 43 danced through the young man's mind as a deep sigh left his lungs. All that time down the drain? He wondered as he kept staring down the unopened bottle that he'd sat in the middle of the kitchen table.
The only sound in the oversized dining area was the constant hum of the over-extended air conditioning unit as it attempted to counter the current heat wave that had plagued the Midwest for the past week. The southern-born male squirrel paid no mind to the felting cool air as he focused on what he saw as his nemeses, yet also his true love, that he'd wasted no time to seek out and bring home, like a dirty whore, once left alone. His fists tightened to the point of cramping before he relaxed them again for a brief moment only to overexert his grip again. It was as if keeping up this repetitive ritual would keep him from giving into the poison that he'd, only minutes ago, set himself up to crumble before.
"Remember that we deal with alcohol... Cunning, baffling, and powerful." The sound of more than a few men's voices carried this message in his head as he recalled this one part of the many opening statements of the AA meetings he'd been attending so regularly since seeking out treatment. Only 43 days ago.
The man in his late 20's started to breathe more heavily, as more of the muscles in his body tightened. Part of his mind wanted to call out to God to stop him from doing the inevitable, but the self-saving side of him had been squashed long ago. The moment he didn't pick up the phone and call one of the many contacts he'd made in his new pursuit of recovery. The second he took a left turn on Poe St. to head to a liquor store instead of taking a right to head to the AA hall he'd been going to the last 13 days since getting out of his inpatient rehab treatment. The battle had reached its peak, and he was feeling weary. Defeated. How could he pull through when he'd given in to meeting the enemy who now stood only feet a few feet in front of him?
Six feet below seemed like heaven, for him, right before he bolted up and grabbed the bottle in front of him. In no time flat he opened the bottle and started to chug it down before gaging while spitting more than a bit of it out.
HELP.
But it was too late.