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| A tormented past, A brighter tomorrow. | Started by: Malc_The_Alc on Oct 10, '08 19:14 |
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Malc walked out on the street people going about their business, he wondered if he was ready. No he was it was now or never, a lump forming in his throat he knew he had to do this if he ever were going to face his demons never mind overcome them. Taking a swig from the bottle of scotch he was concealing inside his coat he overturns a wooden crate and takes a stand on top of it Hel...Hello everyone I have needed to do this for a long time now and I have never had the courage to do it, everytime something new seemed to be an excuse. It's not so bad, I can handle it, people don't care about me why would they listen I kept telling myself these things but today I have came out here to tell you a story a story of a man who thought he had it all but lost it due to his weaknesses. The story of me. pausing for a moment to try and gauge the crowds reaction Malc carries on I'll start at the beginning, yes predictable I know but it makes sense. I never had a strong relationship with my father from a young age I knew his work wasn't your...typical... type of job coming in with blood stained shirts having 'associates' round for business meetings but he did his best to try and hide what he did from me him and my mother did until one day when I was 13 years old I came across a gun in his drawer. Mom went crazy told Dad he had to sit me down and explain why he was away for days at a time why it wasn't safe for my mother to walk the streets late at night and why I was always ordered to make sure all the locks on the doors were secure if I was ever in the house alone. Well I was a bit surprised to say the least but I understood why he did what he did and made a promise, never to get into that line of work, he knew there was only one way out and didn't want his only son to end up dead in a gutter somewhere because he had made a stupid mistake. Malc grits his teeth with the thought of his late father, emotions running through him bitterness, anger, regret and sorrow all flowing through his body Anyways with dad not around much it was always mom I was closer to. She worked in a bar in downtown New York always an independent woman she earned her own wages, never wanting the 'blood money' as she called it that my father came home with. As I grew up I started frequenting the bar more and more, having a few drinks with the boss Mike and some other regulars who used to come in there most nights playing some poker and pool they were some good times. I was there so much that in the end when a position as a barman came up I applied and Mike took me on. So I worked hard, made my living and always gave one hundred percent, until one day disaster struck. Mike had been driving along when a car full of gangsters running from the law lost control and slammed into the side of his car, killing him instantly. I was worried would this mean the end of my employment? would me and my mother be thrown out with only my fathers money to live on? My mother couldn't bear the thought of that and so she made a decision. She had noticed how well I got along with the customers and how well the place was doing she decided to buy it and pass ownership and management over to myself. I remember the night she told me I was astounded asking her how she could afford it. I knew her wages weren't that much and couldn't believe she had any savings but all she told me were the simple words "I found a way" my instinct telling me not to ask questions and be happy with what was happening. But as time past things took a turn for the worse I began drinking more and more heavily the bond I had with my mother strained I could see the hurt in her eyes with what I was doing propping up the bar every night as she toiled to make the business she had bought for me work in the end people started to leave finding new places to drink where the owner wouldn't threaten them for being served before himself and in time, there was nobody left to serve. I was finished my mother didn't want to know me calling me in here own words "A no good lazy bum" So I came up with a plan and went to visit someone a man I had seen my father invite into our house a few times in the past, The Don of New York's criminal underworld, a man with a lot of power, his name was Daera. I knew my father wouldn't approve of my plan so I went to visit him alone when my father was over in Philly making a delivery. I used my fathers name to request a meeting with him and when it was granted I explained what I wanted him to do as a favour for me and asked him if he would make sure my father was never told of what had happened, he agreed and I gave him the last of my money made from the bar as a tribute. My plan was executed one chilly Thursday night. Daera's men had been to my bar and torched it to the ground as I had asked. I was planning on claiming the insurance money. 40% for me to live on and 60% to don Daera for making it happen. I was awoken by a banging on my door. One of my close and only friends left from the bar Brian waking me from my sleep. He went on to explain that someone had burned my bar down to the ground and there was nothing left, with me feigning surprise and shock all the time until he hit me with it. My mother had been inside the bar at the time having returned there to collect her purse she had left mistakenly earlier on and was now dead. Malc's gaze falls to the floor he takes a drink of his liquor again. feeling it burn his throat as he swallows it gulping it down greedily before wiping his mouth with his sleeve and continuing I was devastated my mother was dead and It was my fault. Pushing Brian out of the way I ran the three blocks to the now shell of the bar. The smell of smouldering wood lingering in the air, a crowd had formed but I just wanted to be alone so without delay I ran back home locking the door behind me and opening the liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of scotch and began to empty it in big long gulps. My father arrived home that night and walked in the room where I was sitting my head in my hands still unable to comprehend what I had done. Of course Daera had told my father. He had heard what had happened and owed it to my father to explain after all my father had been loyal and worked hard for him. "is it true my father asked?" I couldn't even answer him, the shame I felt. I nodded slowly my eyes unable to look into his. "I was going to kill you, All the way in the journey here I had my gun ready to kill you just like you have killed her but now I am here I cannot do it." "Malcolm I want you to leave and never return here. Not to this city, not anywhere where I might see your cowardly face ever again, If you needed help I could have helped you could have come to me now look at what you have done! Get out and don't return. you make me sick" I left that night and as he requested never returned I moved around a lot travelling from town to town sleeping rough and using what little money I could beg off people to buy cheap liquor. I looked terrible and smelt worse but all I wanted to do was drown out the memories, the pain, the thoughts. I had hit rock bottom I was waking up each day and starting to drink not stopping until I passed out, until one day a lady I had asked for money recognized me. she had known my father and had something to tell me. she took me to her car and we drove well when I say we drove I slept all the way while she tried to tolerate the smell. When I awoke I was in Detroit I found out that the woman's name was Lily and she was working with a group called The Riot. she told me that there was an underground crime war raging throughout the country and my father had been killed recently. The feelings all came swarming back to me I never got to say sorry to my father I had no-one left in this world except myself and it was then I made my life changing decision. After I had got myself cleaned up and partially sober Lily took me to see her boss a woman by the name of Marietta. I had made my decision to take the route my father had warned me not to, the route that had only one ending - which my father found out to be true. To cut a long story not so short I was accepted in I left the meeting and went about my business hoping that my new family would still be intact after the war was over which we now know it was. Marietta and my fellow brothers and sister haven't completely cured me of my demons as you can see but now I can control my drinking. I have new goals and plans which I want to achieve and no bottle is going to stop me. Malc smashes the bottle to the ground and stands up proud, a steely glare in his eyes as he announces So people thanks for your time, that was my story, what's that you ask? Who am I? he pauses a second before declaring I'm Malcolm, and I was an alcoholic. |
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| hey malcome, your talent is showing. *laughs like a little kid and walks away thinking of the the literal version of that immature saying* | |
| Reply by: bigdaddy183 at Oct 10, '08 19:28 | |
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| hey m8 srry for misspelling your name i could never spell the name *malcolm* right....hey i spelled it! | |
| Reply by: bigdaddy183 at Oct 10, '08 19:30 | |
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Malc I understand your story and where you are coming from. I have a place in New Orleans if your ever in the area feel free to drop in and the house will look after you. be assured there is more than alcohol on offer, if you don't wish to be tempted you won't be. |
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| Reply by: Dante_Balboni at Oct 10, '08 20:56 | |
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