Free Alcoholic Anonymous Books Novels & Stories

“Controlled by someone.” My chest tightened. The word rang in my ears, and instinctively, my head snapped toward Damiano. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. He simply leaned back in his chair, swirling the deep red wine in his glass with slow, deliberate movements before bringing it to his lips. His throat shifted as he took a sip, as if this entire revelation—this accusation—was nothing more than background noise. The ease of it made my stomach knot. Seriously? I was having a mini existential crisis here and he was doing a commercial for Classy Alcoholics Anonymous.

I'll have to clean up this mess later, before mama and baba discover it. My younger brother, Rodas, has been struggling with alcohol addiction at only 16 years old. My heart aches at the thought of him becoming a slave to this vice in his adult years. I've been trying to help him quit, but progress has been slow. Just when I thought we were making headway, mama found out and all hell broke loose, sending Rodas spiraling back to square one.

He slowly stood up and people clapped to encourage him as he made his way to the podium. “Hi…my name is Scott,” “Hi, Scott,” They chorused. “Um…I’m an alcoholic. I have been sober maybe twenty hours, I know that’s not much but I gotta start somewhere right? Um, that right there is my daughter. She’s pregnant with twins. My first grandchildren. She looked me in the eyes and said that if I didn’t sober up I would never see her or her children. At first I was furious with her. How dare she give me an ultimatum right?”

'' Are you okay,'' I heard Manny whisper into my ear. '' Yeah, I am great, just enjoying the party,'' I lied, downing the contents of my second glass, and ordering another one. '' I think you have had enough to drink already,'' Manny said, and I rolled my eyes. ''' No I have not, I just had 2 glasses, that doesn't count as a lot,'' I let out and Manny chuckled. '' Okay, the alcohol is getting to you, because you haven't had two glasses, you have had five glasses, and this is your sixth one,'' Manny said, and I looked at him with wide eyes, as I couldn't believe what he was saying.

Days blurred into nights as he sought solace at the bottom of liquor bottles, the intoxicating haze offering a temporary escape from his torment. Alcohol, a depressant, exacerbated his depressive state, impairing his judgment and intensifying feelings of sadness and hopelessness. His dependence on alcohol not only affected his mental health but also manifested in aggressive outbursts towards the household staff. Once a respected leader, Zayden became unpredictable and volatile, his erratic behavior instilling fear among those who served him.

Yet he sits on the dressed king-sized bed, staring at me like he is confused about something. I don't like his stares, my feet are trembling beneath me. I want to scream out my frustration. I want to feel better. I want to at least forget my misery for a while. “Do you drink alcohol?” He asks like he could read my mind. “It could help you ease up…. Before we leave in at least thirty minutes.” I have never had the opportunity to take an alcoholic drink. On many occasions I attended at the Alpha's lodge, I was always one of the cleaners. As much as the other Alpha's lodge workers stole some bottles out of curiosity, I was never bothered.

I had decided to lay off alcohol for a while now because it made me something else when I was working, it disrupted my work, and I didn't want to lose my hardworking employees, at least not yet. So drowning myself in alcohol was a very big no. That was where Kayla Smith came in. She was sweeter than alcohol, she made me intoxicated faster than alcohol, and she made me lose control and lose myself, just like alcohol. Kayla Smith was the alcohol of my life, and I had known that for years. Years after our bodies first came in contact in the Bahamas, years after fate had drawn us together, like moths drawn to a lightbulb. She was beautiful, she was fiery, she was a goddess, she was the alcohol o

“Red, okay?” “Definitely. I’m not a big drinker. A glass or two a year, if that.” “Really? Why?” He held his hand up, “no judgement, simply curious.” “My aunt was an alcoholic. She drank away the money my folks had saved. My dad had really good insurance. He was a child psychologist working at a non-profit. My mom was a preschool teacher. The thing is, when Dad died, he did have a will which stipulated health insurance had to be paid out of the savings until we were both eighteen. The payments were made by the lawyer but the monthly payments which were supposed to be used to take care of us, she drank it. When Bram got sick, she told the doctors she couldn’t make the deductibles on the insur

I’ve had an absolute blast writing it— but I’ve also cried and laughed along the way. I hope I’ve provided you with an enjoyable reading experience, despite the tough times my characters have endured. In the event you or someone you know is going through ANY mental illness/addiction/gender identity crisis ECT feel free to take a moment to read about each resource, and the character attached to it. I’ve gone through my fair share of addiction, and I’m here to tell you that you’re not alone. Alcoholism/Substance Abuse - Vasilisa Krovopuskova. National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence, Inc. (NCADD): 1 (800) NCA-CALL (622-2255)

"Everyone knows what's best for themselves, right? Like we always say here, each one decides if they want to continue this journey drinking. I chose to stop, and my blood pressure has stayed low since the first day I took the last sip, and I haven't put any alcohol in my mouth since. Celia says she only drinks at night and on weekends, that she deserves it, those old sayings and excuses people use to drink, but I remain firm and don't want to drink anymore. My health is better, and may God help me stay this way. Thank you, companions. Serenity and sobriety for all." Marco asked if anyone else would like to share, and Agnes, the lady who made cheese bread, raised her hand and asked for the fl