I own nothing!

I was inspired by Jimmy Eat World's "Drugs or Me."

As she exits the shopping mall, she feels optimistic about the rest of her day. He was definitely going to die of excitement when he saw what she had bought. She just couldn't wait to see the look on his face. Even though he missed her doctor's appointment, her mood is too good to be ruined. The drive to their house takes too long, the excitement bubbling in her.

But it's not going to end well, and she can feel that the second she enters into the house. Something is off, just not right. "Gale?" She asks into the air. It's not until she stops to place the shopping bags in her hands down on the couch in the living room and hears the all too familiar sound of glass clinking against something that she knows why she everything feels so wrong. Hidden behind the pillow is an empty bottle.

When she walks up the stairs, her ears pick up the sounds of a loud television set, and she can smell smoke.

"Hi," he states succinctly upon her entrance. He is smart enough to know that she will be able to tell that he's been drinking based solely off of his voice. Even with one drink she can tell, it really is quite remarkable.

"What are you doing smoking in our room?"

"Hanging out," he replies keeping his words at the bare minimum. He blows the smoke out of the window adjacent to him.

She was trying to be strong, hold her ground. This was always the strategy she exercised. The strong woman of the household fighting for her family, but this time she couldn't. She can't keep living like this. Her feet lead her out of the room, it's not healthy for her to stand around in the cigarette filled room, though it's not exactly healthy for him either.

When she drops to the ground, Gale can hear the thump and quickly races toward her, throwing his cigarette out the window. She doesn't help him when he falters and falls.

Her face is in her face, and she can't help herself from bawling in them. "You promised!" She's wailing and clutching her stomach. "Do you not see this? Do you not realize what this means?"

His eyes fall to her stomach, the baby bump is small but more prevalent than it had been in the last month. She was four months pregnant now. He knows where he's supposed to be, on that damn metaphorical wagon, staying sober for him, for them. But every time he closes his eyes, he sees his platoon dying. Every goddamn time. He can't escape it. Most of the time when Madge is around he can fight away his demons, but she can't always be around him. Before she worked for the grief counseling center and before they got married, when he was first discharged from the military, she had the time to be with him for the most part.

When she sees him she thinks she's a failure. Her life's work is to guide people through their grief, but she can't even help her own husband. "I wish you could see what you look like from my point of view, Gale. I really wish you did. You wouldn't do this to us then. You wouldn't." Tears are falling from her eyes freely. There's no use pretending that she's not upset. "This isn't the man I married."

All he can do is blankly stare at her because he knows. He knows he's pathetic. In his youth he always criticized Haymitch Abernathy for his drinking, and swore he would never turn out like that. Look at him now. Drunkenly trying to comfort his pregnant crying wife.

"Don't touch me!" She wails as his arms try to wrap themselves around hers. The reaction she has to his touch breaks his heart.

"Madge." She refuses to look at him. "Madge," he repeats.

Her face appears from her hands. "What, Gale? You're sorry? You're really done this time? You promise it too right?" He can't respond. He knows that he's said it before. "Right?" She screams. This time she lets him hold her as she sobs into his shirt.

In between I'm sorries, "I need your help," he whispers into her hair.

She doesn't respond though, she just continues bawling.

"Why aren't we enough?" She whimpers out. If he wasn't right next to her he would've missed it.

Again, he is left speechless. They are enough. They are more than enough. But he can't. Everything hurts and he can't stand living life without self medication.

When they lie in bed at the end of the night, he still has a small buzz, but not enough to slur his speech. At about two in the morning he can hear her silently sobbing into her pillow. He doesn't hesitate to spoon with her moving his face into the nape of her neck or to put his hand up her nightgown rubbing her belly. While she silently repeats "You promised" between sobs, he begins to silently apologize though he knows it will never be enough. Not for her and definitely not for their child.

Should I continue?