I felt like a burden, but I knew that I head nowhere else left to go. I tried to go home but my mom’s boyfriend was there and I knew him and my mother would give me the third degree. If they found out where I had been and what had happened I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to leave my house ever; though what had happened tonight was just my uncanny ability to always be in the wrong place with the wrong people at the wrong time.
I didn’t really know anyone at that party I went to, but there was free booze and from what Anne had told me, lots of drugs. I didn’t actually want to go at first because I was trying to get sober (key word there: trying), but the temptation was unbearable and I wasn’t strong enough to fight it. The want of having the alcohol in my system currently outweighed my want to get sober, but it wasn’t as if I didn’t try to get sober before. I went to meetings, tried those pills that make you sick after ingesting alcohol, even tried pouring all the alcohol down the sink, and so on but it was always the want to drink and get right knackered that got the better of me.
It wasn’t until I met Mathilda Barone a month ago that I had actually was dead serious about getting sober, before it was just me 'dicking around' and pretending to get sober. Now I was serious because she hadn’t given up yet and wouldn't give up on me, and it looked like she wasn’t going to quit anytime soon.
No matter how much of a bitch I was to her.
This was mainly the reason that I had knocked on her door this night because she had told me that she wanted to sponsor me and that if I ever needed a place to stay or help with anything, her door was always open.
Now I sat in her spare room nursing my black eye trying to fend off the ‘burden status’ I was feeling. I knew that I was in a safe house, and it only took nearly escaping a police raid and getting jumped to realize that I couldn’t live this lifestyle anymore. That wasn’t necessarily my ‘rock bottom’ as addicts say, but I believe that the blow to my face literally knocked some sense into me. It wasn’t until that I had realized what Mathilda meant all the times she had said that I had 'lost sight of myself'.
I knew I needed help, though when I knocked on Mathilda’s door and a different yet still familiar face answered, I had actually felt ashamed for the first time in a long time and contemplated running away. Part of my other life had been exposed, and though I was scared shitless, my want to get sober got the better of me this time.