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It was raining, like always. Lisa didn’t like the rain, which would confuse some people considering her choice to move to Seattle. One would have thought the city’s reputation for wetness would reach her, but apparently she must have ignored it, or simply didn’t think her choice through. Whatever her attitude, she was stuck in Seattle and wasn’t going to go anywhere different anytime soon.

Lisa was stuck in a dead-end job with nowhere in sight to turn to. Her drinking had caused this to happen; she even continued to drink to forget about this worry. It seemed she had been relying on the bottle a lot more recently. If she wasn’t careful her life could be ruined more than it had ever before, and more than it was now.

She reached into her pocket and rubbed her thumb on the top of the bottle contained there. She was tempted, but she managed to keep herself from drinking any of it. The strength of her addiction was starting to hit her, and she was trying to convince herself that perhaps her disgusting habits of alcoholism could be justified. Just one sip, maybe? But one sip could throw her into a spiral; one that was incredibly difficult to get out of, as she had discovered before.

Was giving up drinking completely really necessary? She could just get down a few little droplets of the alcohol. That wouldn’t hurt, would it? Yes, Lisa, it would. You would be throwing yourself into the turmoil you had just escaped from. Remember how much you had to give up? Remember how you ended up having no one to turn to? Remember that? Yes, she did remember. All of it.

Lisa had first fell to alcohol when she was around 15. It was freshman year and she just needed something to take her stress away. While most others found that hobbies could do that just as easily, Lisa instead learned how alcohol could make her forget their troubles, and thus, opened up her parents’ liquor cabinet. She couldn’t remember how many glasses she had, just that she ended up spewing her dinner from several hours ago down into the toilet. The answer, if it must be stated, is 3. Lisa Sumner had 3 glasses of wine.

She was instantly hooked, despite the obvious disincentive: how it had affected her stomach, which should have shown her just what she was getting into. At the end of each week, she would have consumed something around 6 glasses of wine. Caring about her grades quickly became a thing of the past. The more she consumed, the more of it she needed, until one day when her parents found her passed out in the bathroom, nearly drowned. That’s when they decided to put her in rehab.

Needless to say, it didn’t help her at all. Right after rehab she had shown promise, but within another month she was dumping more of the vile contents into her system. Her parents kicked her out, which should have been a sign to her that alcohol wasn’t as great as she originally thought. The streets became her home, begging for money and investing it all into her addiction. A few hospital visits broke her wallet and she nearly died.

She met someone. Sort of. He was a man one was bound to cross the street to avoid-the sort of person one knew never to say hello to, or talk to at all. She somehow thought he was the one for her. Unfortunately, after one night of frivolity, he left her, never to see her again. Although, the combination of them both had started in her the production of a child. Her system wasn’t strong enough for it, though, and she had the baby in her for around two months before it died. The miscarriage didn’t change her mind about drinking; it rather reinforced it. She could ease the pain of a lost child with alcohol. This attitude of hers, rather obviously, only gave her more problems and a deeper hole to get herself out of. But Lisa didn’t seem to realize just how far she was digging that hole.

It’s unimportant to explain exactly how she rose from her near-grave. One could believe in miracles, or just plain will, but the truth of the matter is that she finally had a place to stay and a steady job. However, her addiction never left. The bottles would pile up on her counter, her windowsill, her couch, and finally they had leaked their way into her pocket. One sip if she did something she was proud of. One sip for refraining to drink all day. One sip just for luck.

Her hand brought out the bottle. Lisa could see her reflection in it. It showed her past, one of loss and confusion and reliance on a bottle, much like a child for their mother. She was a miserable woman, she knew that, but she ignored it all the same. Perhaps, another drink, would make her forget about her despondent existence-



Lisa looked at her shirt. The white was beginning to be steeped in red. Her bottle full of her crutch fell from her hand onto the pavement. She felt her legs failing, and sank to the ground. A man stood over her with a gun in his hand. He was nothing, just a mugger, clear by when he took away her purse, and ran away. She reached for her bottle, managing to grab it and bring it to her mouth, tipping it in the hopes she could drink something before her life blew out. A single drop fell from it, the red mixing with her blood.

It was empty, and so was she.

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