Alcoholreferences Stories

Their hands connected, and he laced their fingers together. Both of them didn't move their gaze. They did not want to see each other's reaction. He glided his hands to his dark cheeks and held them gently. They slid further down, feeling over his neck and down his shoulders. "You're handsome," he finally spoke. "You're loco."

Suffering the recent and tragic loss of her best friend and left to face her demons on her own, Leah has found herself slipping beneath the violent waters of depression once more. Slowly succumbing to the weight of her traumatic memories, unable to cope alone--but too afraid to cry out for help--will someone hear her silent pleas before it's too late?