sORRY

Alcohol Use Disorder

Trigger Warning: alcoholism, relapse, cursing, addiction, abuse

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I blinked, surprised as the bottle slipped out of my hand and hit the white tile floor with a loud crash. It almost seemed to happen in slow motion, I almost felt like I could see the bottle spider-web in the second it hit the floor and I couldn't look away, not even as the glass shattered inches away from my feet, thankfully inside thick black combat boots.

Not bothering to clean it up, I merely picked up another bottle - already half empty from earlier. I heard the glass crunching under my feet almost from a distance, as well as the door opening and shutting. Everything was too fast and too slow and dizzy, yes quite dizzy...

I tripped and stumbled my way right into the couch cushions, sighing into the pillows. I closed my eyes and took another large swig, certainly missing my mouth and a few precious drops soaking into the cushions.

"Hey Jem, they didn't have any of those Oatmeal Raisin cookies that you like so I stopped at - what the HELL are you doing?"

I shot up at the voice, surprised. "Heyy," I said quickly, realizing that I could feel the nerves rising almost instantly. I took another swig, in hopes to get rid of them but it didn't seem to help much. If anything, it only made Kit's fists clenched even tighter, knuckles turning white and squeeze the bright yellow bags with all his might.

"What the HELL James!" Kit repeated, tossing the bags on the floor angrily.

"Whoops," I muttered, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. WhOa...

"You better open your eyes goddammit," Kit hissed but his harsh words, which normally would've made me extremely anxious, almost seemed to float off me like they were riding on tiny clouds and I kept them closed and I floated away, dreamy.

The bottle was suddenly torn out of my hand and I cried out, hands trying to chase the bottle, I need it, I need it, I need it.

"What the hell James! For you drinking alcohol - you know what this does to you! It's like fucking poison! Are you trying kill yourself?!"

"What do you think?" I returned, holding my shaky hand out for the bottle. "Give it back to me, Kit," I frowned, voice dropping.

Kit took another step back. "No, I'm not letting you do this to yourself. FuCK! You're been sober for so long James! What the heLL -" Kit ran a stressed hand through his hair, taking in the scene in front of him. "James is that GLASS -"

"Give me the damn bottle, Kit," I spat, starting to lose my patience.

Kit point a finger in my face. "How many bottles did you drink?"

"Who gives a shit?! Just give me the goddamn bottle!"

"No! How many fucking bottles James? How MANY?"

"I don't fucking know!" I screamed back at him, scanning the room for any more bottles, a glass, a shot, anything. "And I don't give a fucking shit!"

"Don't you understand what this is doing to you?! To us?!" Kit waved a hand over my body. "Just take a look at yourself! Take a fucking look!"

I glanced down dizzily at myself. What was I supposed to see?

"You don't even see it do you? What you're doing to yourself, do you?" Kit said quietly, hands starting to shake. "God-fucking-dammit James. You know, you KNOW the statistics, or do I need to fucking remind you?"

I shoved my middle finger in Kit's face. "Get the fuck out of my apartment, Kit."

"Oh I don't think so," Kit glared. "'Men are more likely to commit suicide under the influence of alcohol.'"

I rolled my eyes, stumbling my ways towards the kitchen.

At least until Kit got in the way.

"Get away from me, Kit," I snapped, losing my patience. God, what I really needed was a drink... "Get out of my way."

"'Excessive drinking in men increases aggression, raising the risk of physical assault on another person.'"

"What part of 'I don't give a shit' did you not understand?" Ugh, I could already feel a pounding headache coming on. "And GET OUT OF THE WAY KIT."

"Oh," Kit said, taking a step closer to me. "Maybe I don't understand the part that you've being doing everything right: going to your Alcoholics Anonymous Meetings on a regular basis, taking medication and going to behavioral therapy when you feel the urge to drink again. And after all that work, you've been sober for almost five years and here you are - in the blink of a eye - back at square one, back to trying to drink yourself into oblivion," Kit continued - red patches growing on his cheeks. "Go ahead, explain that to me, Jem. I'd like to see you try," Kit's brown eyes remained firm.

"Just let me through goddammit!" I felt my hand come up, clutching my head that was starting to spin again, and not in the nice way. I didn't drink enough...

"'Alcohol poisoning kills six people every day,'" Kit spat out. God, couldn't he just give me a break? "'Of those, 76 percent are adults ages 35-64, and three of every four people killed by alcohol poisoning are men.'"

"I said get out of the fucking way!" I screamed and then my hand was moving, forming a fist in slow motion, as it somehow connected to Kit's head, right in the jaw.

He dropped instantly, the thud of his body hitting the floor echoing in my mind seemingly a thousand times, his head hitting the counter on the way down - knocking him out cold.

"N-No, I - I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Kit," I whispered, dropping to the floor next to him, cradling Kit's head in my lap as alcohol induced tears fell down my face. I pulled him away from the broken glass, hoping that he hadn't gotten hurt. Oh gosh, I hadn't wanted this, not this. "I didn't mean it, I swear I didn't."

I am alone, I am alone again, alone with just my mind - I need to escape, I can't take it.

Look what you've done, James.

Look what you've done to one of the few people that actually loves you.

This is what happens when you let people love you.

Thankfully there's another half-drank bottle right next to me.

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