browsed through the wines, the beer, and came to a stand still when he came across the whiskey. So many different brand names popped out to him. He ran his hand down the bottles of a few of them.
“Sir, do you need help finding anything?” A young girl who looked far too young to be working at a place like that asked him.
“No, I’m just trying to decide.” He turned back to the bottles as Viper’s words screamed out.
Take a nice long soothing shot of Jameson whiskey.
Michael could taste the warmth of the liquid and how it seemed to take his worries away, even if it was temporary. Grabbing a small bottle, he rushed to the cashier and bought it before he could talk himself out of it. She placed it in a brown paper sack.
“Have a good day, sir.”
He didn’t respond and quickly walked back to his apartment, taking two steps at a time as he got to his floor. It was almost six o’clock, which meant Eva would be home in a little over an hour. He took the amber bottle out of the bag and put it on the kitchen table, staring at it as if it would soon do a trick for him. Burying his head in his hands, he closed his eyes tightly, envisioning the blazing inferno that he and Casey were trapped in.
He conjured up memories of the pain he went through. The horrible beatings, the being tied up, the asphyxiating smoke that burned his lungs, were just a brief preview of the thoughts he held inside.
Running his fingers over the neck of the bottle, he compared the smoothness of the glass to how smooth the whiskey would run down his throat. How could he have been so stupid to go see Viper and think he would be different? How could he be so stupid to take advice from a quack doctor? He told himself it was his own fault. He should have never let his guard down in the first place.
Michael continued to stare at the bottle. Just one sip out of it would screw things up worse than they already were. One sip would make him the biggest hypocrite in the world. Here he was, about a week away from going down to see his drug addict brother at a rehab facility, and he himself was on the verge of relapsing. Guilt poured over him. How could he doubt Casey the way he had when he too, was unstable?
He cupped the base of the bottle. Maybe he should drink some just to prove to everyone that he was worthless. They all probably knew already, but going on a bender would be undeniable. Back to square one. It would be worth it if it would just erase all of the pain of the past months and their dealings with Viper.
His head was just so jumbled up. He got up from the table and began to pace in an attempt to clear his mind. He looked out the window, down to the street below. People were everywhere, scattering in different directions, all in a hurry to get home . Resting his head on the windowpane , he closed his eyes. Why did he buy the whiskey? Again, what was he thinking? It was one mistake after the other.
Chapter Five
Eva walked in the apartment, exhausted and hoping Michael would just want a pizza delivered for dinner. She didn’t want to cook and by the looks of things, he hadn’t bothered to either. Stopping instantly, her heart sank when she saw a bottle of Jameson whiskey on the kitchen table and a crumpled paper bag sitting next to it. Pulse racing, she looked at it and noticed that the seal had not bee n broken on it yet. It didn’t matter. W hat was it doing in the house?
“Mikey?” She set her stuff down and walked to the living room. He was staring out of the window, his head lowered as he leaned his forehead against the glass. He didn’t respond to her. “Mikey, what’s going on?”
He shrugged his shoulders, but still did not make eye contact with her. Since being with him, she had prepared herself for the bad days that alcoholics went through. Luckily for their relationship, there hadn’t been many. She reached out and brushed her hand over his
“Sir, do you need help finding anything?” A young girl who looked far too young to be working at a place like that asked him.
“No, I’m just trying to decide.” He turned back to the bottles as Viper’s words screamed out.
Take a nice long soothing shot of Jameson whiskey.
Michael could taste the warmth of the liquid and how it seemed to take his worries away, even if it was temporary. Grabbing a small bottle, he rushed to the cashier and bought it before he could talk himself out of it. She placed it in a brown paper sack.
“Have a good day, sir.”
He didn’t respond and quickly walked back to his apartment, taking two steps at a time as he got to his floor. It was almost six o’clock, which meant Eva would be home in a little over an hour. He took the amber bottle out of the bag and put it on the kitchen table, staring at it as if it would soon do a trick for him. Burying his head in his hands, he closed his eyes tightly, envisioning the blazing inferno that he and Casey were trapped in.
He conjured up memories of the pain he went through. The horrible beatings, the being tied up, the asphyxiating smoke that burned his lungs, were just a brief preview of the thoughts he held inside.
Running his fingers over the neck of the bottle, he compared the smoothness of the glass to how smooth the whiskey would run down his throat. How could he have been so stupid to go see Viper and think he would be different? How could he be so stupid to take advice from a quack doctor? He told himself it was his own fault. He should have never let his guard down in the first place.
Michael continued to stare at the bottle. Just one sip out of it would screw things up worse than they already were. One sip would make him the biggest hypocrite in the world. Here he was, about a week away from going down to see his drug addict brother at a rehab facility, and he himself was on the verge of relapsing. Guilt poured over him. How could he doubt Casey the way he had when he too, was unstable?
He cupped the base of the bottle. Maybe he should drink some just to prove to everyone that he was worthless. They all probably knew already, but going on a bender would be undeniable. Back to square one. It would be worth it if it would just erase all of the pain of the past months and their dealings with Viper.
His head was just so jumbled up. He got up from the table and began to pace in an attempt to clear his mind. He looked out the window, down to the street below. People were everywhere, scattering in different directions, all in a hurry to get home . Resting his head on the windowpane , he closed his eyes. Why did he buy the whiskey? Again, what was he thinking? It was one mistake after the other.
Chapter Five
Eva walked in the apartment, exhausted and hoping Michael would just want a pizza delivered for dinner. She didn’t want to cook and by the looks of things, he hadn’t bothered to either. Stopping instantly, her heart sank when she saw a bottle of Jameson whiskey on the kitchen table and a crumpled paper bag sitting next to it. Pulse racing, she looked at it and noticed that the seal had not bee n broken on it yet. It didn’t matter. W hat was it doing in the house?
“Mikey?” She set her stuff down and walked to the living room. He was staring out of the window, his head lowered as he leaned his forehead against the glass. He didn’t respond to her. “Mikey, what’s going on?”
He shrugged his shoulders, but still did not make eye contact with her. Since being with him, she had prepared herself for the bad days that alcoholics went through. Luckily for their relationship, there hadn’t been many. She reached out and brushed her hand over his
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