Medicine : You Downed The Shot

“More!” I shouted. The man handed me the remainder of wine and I shoved the whole bottle in my mouth immediately. Not long after, I began to feel different than I had ever felt before. It was hard to stand, and I couldn’t walk in

As I helplessly watch my fifteen year old roommate fall to pieces in front of me, I feel everything around me slow to a crawl. Blood pounds my ear drums, I feel the color drain from my cheeks, and my feet take me forward as if they have a mind of their own. I fall to my knees and suddenly everything speeds up again – the pounding in my ear drums intensifies, my hands are trembling but I manage to grasp the side of the bed in an attempt to bring myself close to her. Her face is buried into her sheet. Muffled screaming escapes her as I whisper gentle reassurances in her ear, hoping with everything I have that she can hear me. I know she doesn’t. Even if she does, she can’t make sense of it right now. She’s stuck somewhere else, somewhere she revisits every day of her life and every time she closes her eyes to sleep.

Meanwhile, several counties over, Henry was about to get into some mischief, of his own. The last name had been drawn out of the hat, and again, he had failed to make the cut. This was the third county he‘d gone to, with no luck. He was growing more and more discouraged. He felt that he was letting his family down. When the grizzled old man offered him a drink of whiskey, he took the jug and swigged down several big gulps. Henry had never before imbibed spirits; the hot liquid sliding down his throat and into his stomach felt good. And, after several more large swigs, so did Henry!

As a result of the whole situation, she resorted to a cup of alcohol after coming home from the police station. As the storyline progressed, she is seen holding another shot glass in her hand (11:26). Some people turn to alcohol as it serves as a depressant which can change an individual’s current emotional state, perception and so on. In addition, too much was on her mind which resulted in her walking out of her job stating that she “had to get out of there”

I landed face first. As I collected the pile of papers scattered around me, I cringed and briskly glanced at the unfamiliar faces fixated on my every move below the narrow landing of the school stair case. I briefly questioned whether I was in a cliché high school film before I was brought back to the reality of my freshman year by a stranger who yelled at me to move so she could get to class. As I fumbled back up on my feet and trudged to my sixth period class, my thoughts lingered on the unsurprising nature of this turn of events. Only two weeks earlier I tumbled to the ground in the middle of a half marathon. This clumsiness was not a new development. My evident lack of coordination had loomed over me since childhood, memorialized by the

I walked upstairs face red, hands trembling, and body aching. I didn’t even think I could make it up the first couple steps before collapsing into a heap.Before I reached the last glossy maple wood step I heard the sound of little paws and nails scraping, slowly, softly, and sadly through the house. This sound made my heart ache.

Staring up at the dark ceiling, I lay on my bed, my body aching from yesterday’s fall. I really don’t want to move, my back hurting the most. My mind continues to wander back to the strange book. I was so close to maybe finding a way out of this place and now I’m not. All I had to do was just grab the book, but instead I dropped it.

Now I was on the way to the bathroom to get a good shot of bourbon. I

THE LINE BETWEEN DISGUSHING the sober from the drunk is blurred. giggles pierce her ears, instead of the HEAVY music, but she lets herself drown out the mere voices with hennessy. and what a friend hennesy had been to her. hennesy, was one of her truest companions through all her MAJOR milestones of her life. but tonight she wanted something different, to befriend someone new — jack, jack daniels. who other than a new friend to keep her company in this toxic wasteland intertwine of intoxicated strung out souls. except there’s a tiny problem that alludes to her in the back of her mind. she’s broke. using the term broke with such light ease would be an EXAGGERATION on her part. she had money, but not enough to satisfy her current craving. her

He ordered his shot and tossed it back. Then another. The bartender asked Percival if he wanted a third, but Percival held up his hand. Since he was not a drinker, his head already swam, his stomach burned, and he figured stumbling out of a bar midday and falling on his face would not help matters.

Time and again, I was sure that no matter how much liquor I had just gulped down, it simply wasn't “cutting the mustard”. Thereby, each tailing drink required at least, double the shots to sooth my cravings. This only heightened the dishonesty of my actions as I continued to guzzle in search for, what I thought to be, a peace of mind. I began secretly serving myself larger quantities whenever I thought I could get by with doing so. I even tip-toed off several times to refill empty 20oz water bottles with liquor to stash for, what was then referred to as, the drought. There were other instances where I slipped alcohol into my coffee, my tea, sodas, juices, and other drinks, so long as I had a fix. As pathetic as I was, I tried to do this discreetly because, as soon as the wife got wind of my actions, the bar immediately closed down. She was already in disagreement with me drinking anything other than water. Now, all she was waiting for was any reason to permanently disband

Of course, my men and I enjoyed the bottle. It was delicious and smooth. However, there is something I could not shake off of my mind. Over the three years following the investigation, about every six months, a murder would occur. Every sixth month that followed, on the seventh day of the month, the seventh hour of the evening a colleague of mine that work on the case had been murdered. Everytime we would find seven of something near the body. Seven nails, seven sticks, seven watches, seven bracelets, seven bottles, and even seven shoes. I cannot put this in my current thoughts. My wife came in with another bottle of whiskey for me to occupy myself

First of all, I want to start with a few facts about what whiskey does to the body. Whiskey is a really strong beverage which contains around 40% alcohol. Because of this, even a small amount can create strong side-effects, such as impairment of judgment. People who are under the influence of alcohol tend to, and I quote from the page whiskey facts, “make rash, risky or illogical decisions, they lose their sense of fear and sometimes get paranoid, and aggressive.” These decisions can be seen clearly in the play. For

Finally, Stevens finished his telling of our meeting, and passed out onto the marble floor. Knowing that my friend had a high tolerance of alcohol, him passing out meant that he drank enough to kill a mortal, twice. Since the story telling was done, I turned to study Carter's reaction, and was met with a stony mask, but there was a hint of emotion lying just beyond my grasp.

They say whiskey helps with grief, it makes you forget. Whoever said that must have lied because I don’t think I will ever be able to forget them. I’m five bottles down and I still can’t drown out their screams, their terror-stricken faces. It haunts my dreams. Pain, pain that’s all I feel now. I just want to forget. Time to forget, I whispered out before chucking the bottle back. You can’t forget this, you won’t be able to. This is will consume you; let it consume you .my subconscious chirps darkly. Fine, I mumble closing my eyes and letting my mind take me for a ride.