For A Minute I Was Stone Cold Sober Novels & Stories

We were sharing a sincere heart-to-heart moment, and I didn’t want to risk ruining it. She playfully jabbed at my side with her index finger, “Wow, a thank you from The Ashton Tate. I’m stunned. I should have recorded it. Just remember that you said it while you were completely sober, you can’t say it was a drunken mistake later on. No take-backs, Tate.” “Cross my heart. I meant it. But before I say anything else that could be used against me later, we should probably get some sleep.” I also needed to go take a cold shower to relieve this raging hard on that my sweats were thankfully concealing at the moment.

It was from eight years ago. “Dear Diary, I'm Cindy, I'm seventeen years old, and this marks my first day staying clean and sober. Finally kicked that addiction, and I'm over the moon. I have no friends to share this little triumph with, except for Bianca and Scott. Figured pouring it onto these pages might ease some of the excitement."

“Rowan.” “Yeah?” “I’m… I’m really sorry.” “I heard you the first seventeen times.” “No, I mean…” My voice cracked and I hated it. “I don’t know how to be around you when I’m sober and not awful.” He looked at me for a long second. Then he walked over, cupped my face in both hands, and kissed my forehead like I was something breakable. “One disaster at a time, Liv. Start with the shower.” I nodded against his palms, throat tight.

He said before closing his eyes. Crystal's lips parted in disbelief, totally dumbfounded. No, I'm sober now! And what? Good Night? Like seriously

I wish I could change that right now. ‘You’re not trying to run away from me, are you?’ The cold stone empty voice spoke in my head. ‘You can’t run away.’ It laughed horrendously. ‘I’m enjoying my breakfast today. Make it more often for me.’ I freeze. Stop it, please. I got up from where I was sitting. I was completely sober. It didn’t matter how drunk I was before, I was able to let it slip away. I could feel his eyes on me.

“I always told her you were a selfish bastard. Didn’t I tell you, Cara?” “Shut up, Jon. Look Mikky—” I glare at her. “Don’t call me that.” Her eyes glisten with tears. “O-okay,” she stammers. “I didn’t lie, Micah. I was sober for four days—” “If you say that again, I swear…” I warn, catching my words before they get out of hand. “You’re sober right? Okay, then you don’t need this.” Without thinking, I march to the center of the room.

"Were you ever sober here?" Her inquiry made me reflect on the timeline of my descent. "The first three or four months, yeah," I replied, the memories vivid. "But then, until the night you moved me to Clay's apartment... I was only sober when I was too sick to go out and get more. Not many other times." Professor Gray took the book with a solemn promise to analyze it and return with insights as soon as possible. His departure left an echoing void in the room, filled with unspoken questions and anxieties.

What can I do but forgive him? He grins, a wide toothy grin, “But hey, I made it through. And now I’m sittin’ here, clean as a whistle. Ain’t touched a drop of that poison in weeks.” I stare at him, “And now? How are you now”, heart beating fast. His grin grows bigger, “Now? I’m clean, kid. Completely free.” Then he shudders dramatically. “And I swear to every damn god in the sky, I ain’t ever drinkin’ again. Not a drop. No damn thank you.”

He was anxious for answers. "Uh, well for over a year and a half after you kicked me out, I was stuck. I was weak. A user can't get clean unless they truly want to. I didn't want to. I was terrified of the withdrawals. They were hell, man… you can't understand the hell of dope sickness until you've lived it.

ADAM VAUGH I first open an eye and after a few seconds the other one, the lights bother me, my head throbs as if a heavy metal band was playing an inferno guitar solo on my temple. I’ll never drink like this again, getting wasted definitely doesn’t agree with me, I spend thirty five years without getting drunk once and now I can figure out the real motive: I’m an intelligent guy, I was right in being sober. The wet umbrella taste in my mouth, the sore muscles as if they had been crushed in a grinder. Anyway, all this torture after a drinking day, it’s definitely not for me.