Against All Odds

Chapter 15

I woke up this morning craving alcohol.

It's like an itch that I can't scratch and it's been on my mind all morning.

Relapsing.

I bit my lip, lacing up my Converse, trying my hardest to ignore the pang in my chest.

"Mom?" I called out, wheeling out of the comfort of my room and down the hallway.

"Yes, honey?" She emerged from the kitchen, meeting me in the living room.

"I'm gonna go for a walk, I'll be back soon." She looked at me, hesitating before nodding.

Sometimes I think she wants to protect me from everything.

"Alright, don't go too far." I nodded.

"I won't." I sent her a look of reassurance before wheeling my way to the front door.

The warm air hit me immediately as I pushed my way through the door and out onto the smooth concrete.

The blazing pavement heated up my tires, burning my hands as I began to push down the driveway.

It hurt like hell but it also distracted me from how much I wanted alcohol right now so I kept pushing.

I pushed and pushed until I reached the lookout I went to with Rowan a couple of days ago, peering over the wooden fence, down at the deep blue ocean below.

The waves crashed against a pile of rocks near the shore, engulfing them in a sea of foam.

I looked down at my hands, now bright red and blistering. "Shit."

I gently pressed down on my palm, letting out a hiss as pain radiated through it. I made a mental note to ask Mom to help me bandage them up before directing my gaze back to the ocean.

I used to be absolutely terrified of the ocean when I was a kid. Even going onto the beach with Rowan to collect shells was a stretch.

I thought if I ever went swimming in it I'd get sucked in and never make it out. It was sort of ironic now, when the thought of being sucked into the ocean sounded about a million times better than being stuck in this chair forever.

One day we were sitting on her front porch licking bright red popsicles. It was towards the end of the summer, around early August and we were ten years old.

"What's your biggest fear?" She asked, licking her popsicle as it began to drip, sticky red liquid coating her hands.

"Swimming in the ocean," I replied, my popsicle beginning to melt, dripping down onto the fabric of my swim shirt.

She quickly rose to her feet, disappearing into the house, appearing just minutes later with her dad.
"We're going swimming."

I was terrified and by the time we had made it down to the beach, I was practically shaking.

I remember her turning to me in her blue bathing suit with white flowers and taking my hand, pulling me down to the water with her.

"Rowan..." My voice shook as she turned to me.

"It's okay, I've got you. See?" She lifted our intertwined hands, squeezing mine.

Her dad watched us from the shore as she slowly walked with me into the water. I remember holding onto her hand for dear life as the waves crashed against our bodies.

She held my hand as we ventured further and further until we were about chest-deep.

"We're going to go under on three." I shook my head furiously, looking into her green eyes as she smiled at me.