Tethered By Lust

Don't forget me

Cordelia

Enjoy Reading ;)

After my 5th beaten from my husband I'd had enough.

He loved me but he also abused me and even when he would save me and put his own life at stake for me, he was my biggest threat.

My body was purple, and I didn't even bother covering the gash on my eyebrow.

I decided to get absolutely fucked to take away the pain for one night to ease the scars and then go back to him tomorrow because he would find me; apologise, buy me flowers, and then do it all over again.

And every time he did, I would get weaker closer to my breaking point.

You tell yourself you would leave if someone placed even as much as a finger on you but when they love you so much and you love them just as much you just accept their flaws because it becomes too hard to walk away. You become intertwined to them.

Fuck him.

He hit me, again.

He promised and I believed his bullshit again.

Fuck this.

1 sip of jack Daniels that calls my name.

1 drink won't do much harm.

What's another one?

Alcoholics like to feed themselves lies to brainwash themselves into thinking they can handle the drink.

But I have no restraint.

When I start, I can't stop.

I crave the smell.

I crave the taste.

And I fucking love the feeling - the anxiety leaving my body and the stresses I bare dissipating into the air.

But I'm different this time. I'm stronger. I have control. Don't I?

Every little worry disappearing as though it was never there in the first place with a drink.

But they are there.

Trust me.

They never really go away.

"A double jack Daniel's please." My voice murmured in a demanding tone and my words slurred but were understandable. My elbows rested on the bar stand and my head slouched into my hands.

In life to win you must play your Shirov's Jaw-Dropping Bishop Sacrifice. Chess is just like life. You must play the right move to ensure your safety.

But then again is it clever always playing the safe card. The devil in me itched to get out and I didn't want to feel anymore. I wanted to be in command. I wanted to be on top. I wanted to be the fucking boss.

3 years.

9 months.

6 hours.

Since I last touched alcohol.

Fuck I loved it so much.

It allured me.

The desire and need to reach for a drink every second of each day.

The only antidote when all hell broke loose.

I stared down at the goldish brown liquor sat in front on me. Weighing up my opinions.

"Rough day." A low voice came from beside me.

A brown haired tall, gorgeous man stood beside me. I met his gaze. I just looked at him to say something, but I couldn't get the words out.