Diary of an Alcoholic||mgc au #wattys2017

2

"I can't trust you anymore Michael!" Karen, his mom, screamed as she paced the room.

"Please stop yelling." Michael pleaded, since he had a head ache the felt like his head was just going to explode into a million little pieces.

"No, I can't!" She yelled even louder this time. "I'm sick and tired of this! You need to understand that if you were driving it would be your second DUI."

Michael inhaled and exhaled deeply. "I know, but I wasn't driving so why bring it up." He rubbed his eyes leaning back against the cold leather couch.

"Michael, you need to take this seriously. Do you really think this is all a joke?" The tone of her voice sounded hurt.

"No I don't think it's a joke, mom. You don't understand what goes through my head! You would never understand!" He yelled his head pounding as much as his heart was.

"Get out of my face." She says putting her head in her hands. "Don't come down until you're sober again."

He glared at her. "I'm sick of this." He mumbled.

Once Michael walked out of the living room he could hear his mom break down in tears. Her head was in her hands and he could hear her mumble something, but he couldn't make out what she was saying.

Michael lowered his head, staggering to the stairs and kept thinking about what him mom had said to him. I can't trust you anymore.

-

Michael lied on his bed staring at the ceiling. He looked to his bedside table staring blankly at his digital clock.

The clock flashed 5:30. He turned his head back to look at the ceiling. He stared debating weather or not to go to the meeting tonight.

"Honey!" He heard his mom yell from downstairs, her tone still sounded hurt. "Please come downstairs. We need to talk."

Michael sighed, sitting up groaning as he stood up from his bed. "I'm coming." He yelled down to her.

As Michael walked down the stairs he clenched his hand around the railing since the room felt as though it were spinning. He looked around the corner and saw his mom sitting on the couch.

"Please sit down." She said patting the cushion next to her.

Michael still stood where he was. He shook his head.

"Baby." His mom pleased. He sighed walking over to the couch.

Once he sat down he put his head in his hands expecting the worst to come from his mom.

"Honey," she started. "You and I both know that you need help again. So I called the AA advisor and told them you were going be attending the meetings again."

Michael's head shot up. "No." He said shaking his head. "I'm not going back to the place. That idiot that lead the meeting told me that 'God',"—he lifted his hands putting air quotes around God— "wouldn't forgive me for the sin I committed. Mom, those people that run the meetings are all bible thumpers."

"It's the only place we can send you to." She said softly as though she was trying to act out like Michael was. "There is another choice and that going to the  counselor again."

Michael sighed. "Neither of them helped lasts time." He said rubbing the back of this neck and then running his fingers through his hair.

"Please, Michael," she stood up placing her hands on her son's arms. "Do this for me."

He looked down remembering the first time she said that to him back he got his first DUI.

2012
Michael sat there waiting for his mom to show up to possibly bail him out of jail.

He sat there on the cold, uncomfortable metal bench in the cell. The walls were bare, a single window in the corner with metal bars over it, and all around him sat more people who in for possibly the same thing that he was in for.

"Clifford." Michael looked up at the officer that had said his name. The officer who called him began to open the creaking metal door to the cell.

Michael stood up looking down at his feet as he walked. As he walked the handcuffs, that none of the officers bothered to take off, rubbed against his skin causing red marks to form. "Who's here anyways?"

"Your mother. She bailed you out." The officer said taking out a ring full of keys. "Lift your arms please." Michael obeyed. "I don't want to see you here again, got it kid?"

Michael nodded. The officer held Michael's upper arm and dragged him to the front of the station. As Michael was walking out another person was being dragged in by two officers. The men were holding a boy, who seemed to Michael's age, his curly hair was plastered to his forehead by sweat, and his eyes were bloodshot. Michael kept watching the boy, he had recognized him from somewhere but couldn't remember where.

"I cannot believe you!" Karen yelled hitting her son's chest. "I cannot believe you."

"Mom, please I can—" he began to say.

"Shut it." She snapped. "You should thank you me for bailing your ass out. $900 gone. I should've let stay here."

"Mom," Michael said.

"Michael, I'll make a deal for you if you do this for me I'll do this for you."

Note: hope this is okay.

Please tell me your opinions on this.

All the love- H