‘Just tonight. I’ll be drunk for him just for tonight.’ I thought as I downed the remaining contents of the bottle I’ve been holding on to for the past couple of minutes. I threw my head back and bit back a groan when its bitter after-taste started to settle at the back of my throat. Nonetheless, it was a welcomed taste. My narrowed eyes tried to read what was on the bottle so I’d know what to order next. So far, this alcohol has become my best friend because of the huge numbing effect it provided me compared to the other drinks I’ve had.

Before I could make sense of what I was trying to read, my arm was grabbed and I was harshly turned to my right by a woman I could hardly recognize.

“That’s your fourth bottle. I think you’ve had enough.” She said with a stern voice.

I smiled in return and giggled.

“Really?” I slurred. “I didn’t notice!”

“C’mon. You need to go home.”

I grabbed my arm back and began to protest and flail my arm.

“No! Not yet! I’m fine, I’m fine. Look at me. I ain’t drunk!”

She was about to grab me again when bile started to rise up my throat. I made disgusting gagging noises before the inevitable happened. The next thing I know, my clothes and the floor were covered with my vomit and then I was knocked out.

‘This is the third night.’

I woke up with my head throbbing in pain. ‘Why do I keep doing this?’ I heard myself scoff. ‘You know exactly why you keep getting yourself dead drunk three nights in a row.’

I was lying on my bed, staring at my room’s dull beige ceiling, gripping onto my sheets, bracing myself for the memories which were about to rush in.

I felt the first trickle of tear escape through my left eye. I would have been okay by now. I wasn’t one to be caught up on lingering feelings. I had a lot of work