I still remember the first sip of alcohol I’ve ever had. It was made of Myers Rum, Smirnoff Red Vodka, and lite half & half. Mixed together these make what is known as a White Russian. I was about 3 years old, and I ran downstairs to see her. However, she wasn't there. The only thing that was there was her drink. I took a sip, thinking it was milk, and quickly spit it back in her cup. Not taking any interest in where she might be, I then ran back upstairs and went to bed.

It hurt. It hurt to see her laying there on the damp, cold pavement. The heavy puddle of blood flowing from her head. I thought pushing her would make me feel better. But it didn’t. It was that night that we took her to the hospital. That night that left her with a scar that would change bother her and I for the rest of our lives. Or at least I thought it would change her. But she just stayed the same. Every night she still took the bottle and the glass. And every night at around 3:34 AM I got out of bed and picked her up off the pavement and put her in bed. A few people knew of these events, but no one ever got the full story. No one ever knew everything that happened. The people that did know thought this only happened around 2-3 times a week. But no. This happened every night. And it consumed my life.