Never Call Me When You're Sober Novels & Stories

“Do not call me till you’re released by the alpha.” The call ends with a sharp click. I sit with my legs sprawled out in front of me, tears streaming down my cheeks. At this moment, I realised I have been abandoned by everyone. I’m left alone in this world and if I don't do something to save myself, no one would.

**FERAL FURY PACK** Lucifer groaned as the morning sun pierced through the curtains, hitting his eyes with a harsh glare. His head throbbed, a relentless reminder of the night before. He sat up slowly, his body heavy and sluggish. As he reached for his phone on the nightstand, the screen lit up with the notification of 42 missed calls—20 from Spike, 20 from Mikhail, and two from Viktor. He sighed, his mind hazy as the events of last night slowly resurfaced. Two bottles of *Everclear*, notorious for its 100% alcohol content, had been more than enough to knock him out. He wondered how he’d managed to fall so deep into the bottle, completely losing himself in the process.

I know I shouldn’t be drinking, and I know I should keep my brain clear. When I walk into my apartment, the lights are off, and I decide to leave them off. The last thing I need is a spotlight on how miserable I am right now. “As if… Wasn’t Bella enough? Now you have to come for Callie?” “Don’t you fucking say her name, you piece of shit,” are the words that kept repeating in my head the moment Calliope walked away from me. Walking to the small bar in my office, I pour a glass of whiskey and toss it down. I grab the bottle and the glass and walk to my desk.

Like I’m home. “That’s not true.” Arrick makes to pull me back to him, but I step further away. Slapping his hands away childishly. Immature me peeking out to show face. “Can you name one time in the last year, or more, that you called me to just talk or to hang out; one time that you have been near me while I was sober, and not in need of being rescued? And I don’t mean the party invites or when we run into each other!” I raise my palms accusingly, draped in the oversized jacket on my slender frame that makes me appear ridiculously small. Arrick frowns, considering my question for a moment and then frowns harder as he tries to recall even one moment from the past year, that hasn’t been a ca

I think he’s afraid that if he lets her stray too far, she may not come back. Not that I could blame her. I sigh, grab the laptop from the kitchen counter and begin my search as my cell phone rings. It’s the club, and I ignore it. I am not working tonight, and if it’s important, Mikey or Mindy will call from their personal cell phones. I begin to type in rehab physicians, but the phone rings again. I quickly hit ignore once more and grumble, placing it on the counter. Whoever is calling me should know better!

And then my mother’s words, sharp and cutting, telling me I’m nothing but a failure. I down another drink, and then another. The edge starts to blur, the sharp corners of my thoughts softening just enough to breathe. My phone vibrates on the counter. I ignore it. It vibrates again. And again. I glance at the screen. Scarlett. “Goddamn it,” I mutter, letting it ring. But she doesn’t stop. Call after call, the screen lighting up over and over until I finally grab the phone and answer. “What?” I snap, the alcohol making my voice rougher than I mean it to be.

As a person with strong alcohol tolerance, I could feel myself slowly losing the grip of my own reality and drowning in the make-believe of alcohol. I quickly downed the entire shot, sliding the glass over to the bartender. “More.” I muttered with my head falling on my arm stretched over the table Suddenly my phone rang. I fumbled out my phone from my bag, my eyes falling on its screen immediately. Valerie's caller ID danced across the top. “Must you call me every fucking time? I am trying to have my peace of mind but you keep it ruining it! Argh!!.” I straightened up myself and cleared my voice before I answered the call.

I guess she could tell that I was drunk due to the way I spoke. "No, Violet. I am not drunk. I just want your forgiveness. Please, have mercy on me. I want you back. I want to have you back. Can that ever happen? Can it?" I slurred, staggering on my seat. There were seconds of silence at the other end of the phone. I almost thought she had hung up, but I suddenly heard her voice. "Do not call me whenever you are drunk, Stewart. You are passing your boundary," she let out coldly and hung up before I could respond.

My phone burns in my pocket, and for a long moment, I can’t even move. I had promised myself I’d never call my sister again. She’s had enough of my messes. What if she yells? What if she refuses to help? What if she rubs her stripper job all over my face and calls me pathetic? My fingers tremble as I pull the phone out. I stare at it silently until the first sob escapes my throat. I have no choice. Slowly, I dial the number I swore I’d never touch again. “Callie?” Her voice pierces through me. “Oh my God…is that really you?”

His white carpet that was becoming greyer from cigarette ashes and dust. Alexander brought the stick to his dry lips and took a long drag. He leaned back on the couch as he released puffs of smoke. Samantha would be so ashamed of him, so disappointed. To see him smoking again. After 6 years of being clean and sober. It only took 2 days of Samantha being gone for Alexander to relapse. Alexander wanted to stop. But ironically, it was the only thing keeping him alive right now. Without it, the pain would be unbearable and excruciating.