Wolf

I’d sworn that I’d never do it again. Not after what had happened the last time. Now I sat staring at the glass clutched tight in my right hand, stared at the ice floating in the clear amber liquid as I tried to contain the voice in my head that was struggling to get free. The voice that I knew would stop me. Instead, I concentrated on the sound of the crowd behind me; the boisterous laughter, the country music coming from the jukebox that was starting to get on my nerves. But I didn’t trust myself; I wasn’t sure how I would react to the other kind of music. There was always the possibility of hearing the song with the other music. So I focused mainly on the laughter and the drunken conversations of the people at the bar and the tables behind me. I really had no idea how I’d gotten in the grimy joint. I’d sort of come to my senses, like breaking a trance, sitting at the bar and holding a glass of bourbon on the rocks. The bartender told me that I had yet to touch a drop of the stuff.

I took a deep breath, the warm vanilla odor of the bourbon in my hand assaulting my nostrils. Automatically my hand came up and I took a drink, my mind still occupied with silencing the voice, and then downed the rest of the glass. My brain registered my actions only when I felt the warmth of the alcohol spread outwards from my stomach. Shit, I thought.

Stupid, wasn’t it?

I stiffened, eyes widening as the voice, resonated through my head. I’d let my guard down for one second and she’d gotten through! I could feel my pupils dilate and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as my anger and frustration wreaked havoc in my head. I knew that the process that my anger had just triggered would only be helped by the alcohol I’d consumed, little though it had been. I stood stiffly, slapping down a bill and telling the bartender to keep the change. A very small part of my brain registered that the bartender was yelling something about stiffing her as I walked out the door. But I was beyond full comprehension now; I just needed to hang on until I got out of town. Or else I’d never be able to come back.