“I can't quit... I won't quit. Friends don't... quit... They don't quit...”
I trembled awake, feeling like absolute hell. I opened my eyes, only to be assaulted by the morning light.
“Damn...” I grumbled to myself as I weakly got up from my desk, holding my pounding head. A sharp punch to my stomach followed. I ran into the bathroom and threw up all the scotch I drank last night. After I flushed it all down I leaned back on a wall, panting from the exhaustion of my now strained stomach muscles.
“Charley, ye can't keep gulping down and throwing up all your problems forever.”
I winced and turned to see Barley in the doorway.
“Hey...” I managed to say.
“Are you proud of yourself?” Barley said in a stern tone, “You're not going to get any better if ya keep doing this, you know. But, like I said, you've learned nothing from your therapist!”
Barley looked shocked for a second.
“Did you ju