Novel & Cerita Call Me When You're Sober

I need someone sober. I walked to the table where everyone was still playing beer pong. I fumbled for my phone but it's harder than it seems. My finger shakes to unlock my phone and it shook even more when I clicked on Audrey's contact name. I want to go home and confess to her. I want to tell her how I feel. Fuck, I hate drunk Cayden so much. Before I could click on the 'call' option, someone snatched it away from me. I looked up and saw Haylee smirking.

She answered the call with almost shaky hands with build up of everything absolutely terrible. "Why didn't you call me? I told you to call me, then why didn't you? Did you not even think of me enough to call me?" His voice sounded hoarse, almost robotic. His tone was psychopathic with three different emotions with each sentences that shook her completely. She immediately wished she hadn't had the delusional thought the he had said those things because he wad drunk. People were usually the most truthful when they weren't sober.

“Look, I’m not gonna be a maid forever. I just… need a reset. No past, no Evan, no cops, no rent due every fifteen minutes.” Her silence was heavier this time. “Fine,” she said. “But promise me something.” “Name it.” “If anything feels off… anything… you call me. You don’t stay quiet. You don’t freeze up. You run.” I let the silence sit for a beat too long. “Calla?” Her voice cracked a little. “I’ll call.” “You swear?” I looked at the tiny pill bottle I hadn’t touched in three weeks. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I swear.”

I try and I try and I try and I try and I try and I try and I try Just hold me, I'm lonely Momma, I'm so sorry I'm not sober anymore And daddy, please forgive me for the drinks spilled on the floor To the ones who never left me we've been down this road before I'm so sorry, I'm not sober... anymore. -I looked at most of them wiping the tears from my eyes, but I always looked for Connor, somehow I was asking for his forgiveness. I'm not sober... anymore. - His gaze was on mine, serious as ever. Inexpressive. And I was crying- I'm sorry that I'm here again. I promise I'll get help It wasn't my intention I'm sorry to myself. I finished.

“Kas?! Kas, where are you, Baby?” “Bronx, it’s Doctor Khe. I’m here to help. Please stop struggling. You’re going to get hurt. I know it may seem like what you’re experiencing feels real, but I assure you it’s not. Kas is back in Montana. She is safe and sound in your packhouse and you’re in Arizona for alcohol addiction rehabilitation.” The voice becomes more clear with each word, making me more aware of the world around me. “I need you to focus. Open your eyes and look at me.”

We walked in silence until we got to her office. “Am I being discharged?” I asked, daring to hope. I didn’t even ask if I had gotten into trouble because I knew that I hadn’t, but she shook her head and scoffed. “You have a call,” she said, giving me the intercom. I couldn’t think of anyone who would be calling me, but I took it anyway, and I placed it on my ear. “Hello,” I said into the phone. “Hello, Ivy. How is rehab treating you?” Came the icy and cocky male voice.

"It's 10 AM and you're drunk, how could you be this stupid mom, after everything I've done to get you sober!" I start feeling like answering the call might've been a mistake, whenever she calls it's nothing good, and now she's drunk, again. After all, I've done... the money... everything, and she's still doing the same shit she always did. "I don't want you to call me anymore, I can't keep doing this mom." Her hoarse laugh invades my ears as the sound of a glass smashing hits the floor from her side of the call. "Oh come off it Leo, I'm celebrating!"

Afterward, she needed to come straight home, regardless of what her mate would think. When we were together and had our own family, we would tackle the problem as a couple. But one thing was sure, my child had to be born and grow up in my home. Suddenly I didn't feel like getting drunk anymore. What if Becca called me while I was passed out! No, I decided to stay sober starting today as I awaited my next meeting with my wife. I pushed aside the whiskey. "Bartender, I'd like a Carambola juice with ice," I requested. He gave me an odd look but complied without question.

Whеn уоu’rе not wоrkіng thе ѕtrееtѕ іt’ѕ easy tо gеt lаzу, but I hаvеn’t. Mу phone screen lights uр whеn іt hаѕ enough роwеr. I have ѕоmе mіѕѕеd calls from Cаrrіе. Without lіѕtеnіng tо thе mеѕѕаgеѕ I call hеr bасk. “Hеу, hоw’ѕ it gоіng?” “Blаkе, who thе hеll іѕ Nеоn Lips?”

Now that Nick knows, I'm almost certain they'll be in contact soon, so this game has to advance. I park my motorcycle in the driveway, get off it, and navigate into my apartment. I shouldn't drive drunk, but the effects were wearing off. I also had a great tolerance level. I tug off the clothes and prepare a bath, pulling my phone to shoot a text to the unsaved number. "I'm ready to call in both my chits." I hit send and slid it over the counter, proceeding to get into the bathtub. The bubbles tickle most of my body as a memory cuts through my mind.