The Prison Chapter 3

That night I got drunk. Regardless of the fact that it was a school night, I was underage and my Mother was downstairs listening to my every move.

That night I didn't want to think and I wanted to be deeper into the blackness that I knew my bottle offered. I felt that this would be a less dramatic reaction than the shouting and screaming which my Mother had, I think, envisaged. It was however I knew, still a pretty stupid thing to do, but this realisation of sorts didn't stop my right arm from moving the bottle too and from my mouth repeatedly until I fell into a numbed blackness.