Come out with us. Have a drink. Just have one drink. Have a couple. It won’t hurt. You can just have a couple, can’t you? What’s the harm?

Not sure if it’s my voice. Might be someone else’s. It doesn’t really matter. I can’t, though. I honestly can’t just have one. I mean, I can. And I have. Sometimes. Occasionally. Rarely.

I am perfectly capable of having just one, until I have one, and then I can’t do it anymore. That thing that stops me from having that one goes after I give in.

And three is not enough.

Not nearly enough.

For a moment the pain goes away and I think that if I have more it will stay away.

And then I’m standing out in the rain. Crying. Hurting. Not wanting to live.

Then I’m on a bed, talking to the voices in my head, wishing that I was dead.

I’m on the street, on my knees, begging a friend to forgive me please.

And they reach out a hand, pull me up, refuse to judge me as my deepest, darkest sins slip through my hands.

One is too many.

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Ian Sharman

Ian is a freelance writer and artist. He founded Orang Utan Comics Studio with Peter Rogers in 2006, writes for their Eagle Award Nominated anthology Eleventh Hour and regularly inks for Panini’s Marvel Heroes comic.

Latest posts by Ian Sharman (see all)

• How the War Began - 30/12/15
• Prince Of Peace - 22/12/15
• Cogito Ergo Sum - 25/08/15
• Hayfever’s End - 17/08/15
• Regrets? I’ve Had A Few - 14/08/15