(Keith Urban’s Nobody Drink’s Alone) Don't you know Nobody drinks alone Every demon, every ghost From your past And every memory you've held back Follows you home Nobody drinks alone A slightly tipsy Rachel Dunne opened the door to her sparse room. Setting the bottle she’d brought up from the saloon on the table, she grabbed a glass off the dresser. Drawing the curtains she draped her shawl over the back of the rickety chair and sat down. Letting out a deep breath, she reached for the bottle. Pouring an ample amount of the amber liquid. She took a long sip, feeling the burning sensation as it went down her throat. She let the warmth settle over her and enjoyed the comfort that it provided her aching soul. Taking comfort in the way the drink took the edge off the pain she felt deep inside, she swirled the last sip in the glass and set it down. But the memories that haunted her nights didn’t disappear with the whiskey. Her need to forget had her reaching for the bottle again. Pouring another glass full, she tried to drown every demon, every ghost from her past. The more she drank, the more the memories she was trying to hold at bay came rushing forth. All the faces of those she had loved and lost. Crying, she threw the glass against the wall. It shattered into pieces as the amber liquid ran down the faded wallpaper. A sob escaped her as thoughts of her dead husband came flooding past the wall she had erected around her heart. All the dreams they had made, the plans that would never be. Grabbing the bottle, she took a long swig. “Henry Dunne, leave me be!” she slurred standing up and stumbling towards the bed, her strawberry blond hair falling from it’s hairpins. She took a swipe at her nose and sniffled as the tears streamed from her eyes. Another swallow of the whiskey ushered forth the pain of losing her unborn baby. Sobbing, she slid to the floor resting her arm upon the bed. Burying her face in the cover, she let the tears flow freely. How the memories hurt. She wanted to hold her baby so badly, to cradle it close within her arms. The longing was so great; she could almost feel the baby, resting gently against her breast. Brushing the hair from her face, she lifted the bottle to her lips, intending to drink her self into oblivion as the laughing, hellish faces of the men who were responsible for her husband’s death made an appearance in her mind. The only time the ghosts didn’t haunt her was when she had passed out; which was occurring on a regular basis these days. Shaking the bottle upside down, nothing more came out. Curses poured forth as she realized the whiskey was gone. Dropping the bottle on the floor next to her, Rachel climbed up on the bed. Curling around a pillow, she continued sobbing. Life was hard, but living without those you loved was even harder. She longed to join her husband and baby but couldn’t bring herself to end her life. When she was sober, she held out hope that there would come a day when she didn’t need the bottle, that there would come a time when her life wasn’t lonely. But tonight, as she lay on the bed, on the verge of passing out, she realized that no matter how much she drank to forget, she never drank alone and that she never would… Drop me a note and let me know what you thought!