Intercede

/ˌin(t)ərˈsēd/

verb

intervene on behalf of another

All my mind could think in those moments was, 'There are some moments in your miserable life when you get lucky for once, and this may just be one of them,' as I held the bottle of whiskey close to me, feeling the familiar aura of happiness and drunkenness surround my petite frame.

Since that day with Moira taking the half emptied bottle of whiskey from my room, a week of secretive drinking on my part had passed. I was smart in the times I would decide to drink as I found the schedule of Luke's lying around the room and made a mental note to return to my sober state by the time his tall frame made its way inside the room.

Everything was going well for me as I drowned my sorrows in the various bottles of alcoholic beverages, finding myself passing out and waking up only thirty minutes before Luke would walk in; however, I always seemed to have a knack for lying my way through the haziness within my eyes and occasional carpet marks marring my cheeks.

That was until I was finally caught in the act and found to be lying on the floor, whiskey bottle in hand with a smile plastered upon my face. Despite the fact that I truly hadn't had enough to make me completely wasted, I was still in the mood of happiness that usually accompanied my drunken states.

That day had been like any other as I had kissed Luke on his way out of the room and waited about twenty minutes before opening the drawer and bringing my favorite alcohol out along with a glass for myself. What was not normal for that day was when Luke walked through the door an hour after he had left for the day and I was still lying on the floor tipsy.

"What the fuck?" I heard the three words from the doorway before I saw the frame of the person that they belonged to. With a bottle of whiskey still in my hand and my vision turning blurry from the excessive amount of alcohol I had consumed, I looked up to find Luke's piercing blue eyes staring back at me with anger protruding from their sockets.

I rolled my eyes in response, going back to my bottle of whiskey as I tilted it up and took another swig of the substance before wiping my mouth and setting it back on the ground. Although I was just caught drinking, I felt like it was useless to try and correct the situation; therefore, leading to my continuation of drinking.

However, Luke was less than pleased with my actions as his nose was snarled up in the air. It was a common thing for Luke to act as though he were disgusted with the thought of me even consuming alcoholic beverages, which was understandable due to my previously known addiction; however, I did not care at that point- I only wanted to feel good.

What was the point of me hiding my actions of the past week any longer from Luke anyways? Sure I had been drinking for the past week, but that didn't make me a bad person, it made me broken in a way that I thought he would understand.

Within the course of a year, I had lost my best friend, lost the only girl close to me due to suicide, had to help my other friend through a crippling depression because of said girl, taken on the responsibility of parenting a child for my other close friend who disappeared, the said child then died, and then, as if life couldn't get any worse, a group of colonist form a coalition in hopes to kill me.

I thought I had a very good reason in drinking in those moments.

Luke, however, thought that I was overreacting most likely. He thought that I was blowing things out of proportions and dramatizing my life, which maybe I was; however, until he was able to get through all that I had been able to go through in the past year, I was content in sitting on the floor of our shared room and getting drunk off of a bottle or two of whatever alcoholic drink I could find that day.

"What the fucking hell are you thinking Melissa?!" he screamed from the door as he slammed it behind him, coming across the room and being sure not to step on the empty bottles of whiskey lying across the floor. "It's barely even fucking ten in the morning and you are drunk?!" His question seemed valid to any person on the outside of our conversation; however, Luke knew exactly why I was drunk and, looking back on it, he had good reason to be concerned.

"I am trying to have some peace here," I spoke in a whining tone, waving around the whiskey bottle before moving it closer to my lips so that I could take another swig. The bottle never came in contact with my lips though and the liquor never burned my throat due to Luke's quick reactions as he slapped the bottle out of my hand and caused it to pour out along the floor.

"What the fuck?!" I screamed, duplicating his question from earlier when he walked in as I gripped the top of the bottle in my hand for a few moments before Luke took it away once again. My eyes narrowed at him as I wobbly rose to my feet and felt my head spin lightly before stumbling forward for the bottle, which Luke moved once again with a small motion of his arm.

"What is the fucking matter with you?" he asked, his voice no longer coming down harsh as I saw tears threatening to fall from his eyes in fear that he had allowed me to continue in this terrible habit for far too long. He was guilty, but I didn't know how to assure him that it wasn't his fault as I considered my words would only come out slurred if I spoke.

Never before had Luke cursed so much within the first few minutes of walking in; however, in those moments he sounded like a sailor trying to speak to his mates in the only way that they could understand, which meant that he was either pissed or frazzled, or maybe he was both.

"Why're you home early?" I asked him, trying to make my voice sound as even as possible despite my obvious disposition with having so much alcohol in my system. Based upon the tears taking over Luke's eyes even more, I knew that I had slurred too much. Slurring once or twice was something Luke would most likely get over, but I knew from his face that I sounded plastered.

In all honesty, I probably was. I had drank half of a bottle of whiskey that day with nothing to dilute it, which meant that my body was overwhelmed with the amount of alcohol I had consumed in a mere forty minutes. It wasn't that I couldn't handle my alcohol, it was a matter of how fast I had chugged it and the amount of time between then and when Luke had walked into the room.

"Moira asked me how you had been dealing with your relapse," he told me with tears still spilling out of his eyes. It was obvious, even to a partially drunk person that Luke was overly emotional about the topic. I knew why he was emotional even as I connected it back to his old thought that he had not protected Cynthia from her demise.

While everyone knew that he couldn't blame himself for her death because even if he were there, he would have just been killed as well, I knew that he still held that remorseful feeling within himself and blamed himself everyday. Despite knowing that, I had drank out of my own self pity and caused him to feel this anguish, which made me feel like a shitty person in general.

"Obviously not well," he managed to laugh out before he let out a sob. The sound echoed off of the walls of the room as I found my entire being breaking apart under the feeling of the walls caving in around me. Luke didn't deserve any of this, yet here I was, causing him so much drama in his life due to my inability to get my own self together.

"How long?" he finally asked as he stared me down with fire sparking within his blue eyes. Despite my entire being feeling the elated perception alcohol had upon me, I was now fully sober and attentive to what was happening in front of me. Nothing in my life could have prepared myself for that moment when I stared Luke in the eyes and had to hurt him in the worse way I could have.

"A week," I mumbled out before finding tears streaming down my cheeks. I wanted so bad to explain why I had experimented once again with the addictive substance; however, I thought that would only bring him more guilt as I found myself collapsing onto the ground in fits of tears. Relentless apologies came from my mouth as I took in Luke's look of confusion as it crossed his face.

"Why didn't you stop then?" he asked, kneeling down in front of me, the bottle now disposed of as he pulled my sobbing frame into his chest. My tears covered his shirt as I found myself gripping it in an attempt to use it to comfort me in that moment. Luke's heartbeat was strong against my ear as I tried to match mine with his and calm my heart rate so that I could respond to his question.

"It was just everything," I finally managed out after a few minutes of trying to get over the initial disappointment in myself for allowing my own self to let Luke down. Sure, I knew that if he caught me that I would be embarrassed and guilty, but I never expected this reaction from myself if Luke were to find out about my inability to stay sober.

"It was Michael's one year anniversary a week ago," I muttered, somewhat hoping that Luke wouldn't hear; however, he clearly did as he let out a deep breath, connecting the dots within his head. I found myself feeling even more guilty as Luke's tears hit the top of my head and his cracking voice spoke.

"Was that-" His voice stopped momentarily before continuing on. "Was that what the nightmare was about?" he finally managed to ask as his breathing drastically lowered. I couldn't say anything due to images of that field came to mind and Michael's figure disappearing with Riley's closely following after him, so I simply nodded into his chest, falling apart once again.

Another sigh escaped him as I found myself unable to think in those moments. I knew when I was drinking that it had been wrong; however, I thought I was doing the right thing by hiding it and trying to get over my own problems instead of lying them in front of Luke and asking him to fix them.

Luke had fixed me our entire relationship and I didn't want him to be stuck always fixing my broken pieces when he was broken himself. As more tears filtered out of my body though, I felt the urge to drink leave my body as I finally accepted the lesson Michael had attempted to teach me in a short dream that had left nightmare effects.

Riley was gone. Michael was gone. Janice was gone. Ashton was gone. However, I was still here and I could still fight to stay here, yet there I was only moments ago wasting my life on a whiskey bottle and thinking that there was nothing more to life than drinking to forget my past wrongings.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered into Luke's shirt as I found myself in a state of guilt and remorse as opposed to my drunken state when he had walked in the door. Despite Luke's obvious shock covered expression, it was obvious that he was glad that I was back to my normal self.

"It's okay love," he whispered continuously as I kept spouting out random blabber and found myself trying to gain his trust again.

"I won't do it again," I promised, tightening my grip on him as I felt as though he would leave me to deal with my scars on my own. "Please don't leave me," I whispered almost silently as I felt him let out another deep sigh and kiss the top of my head numerous times.

"I'm not leaving," he told me in the most broken voice I had ever heard; however, it wasn't that he was upset about my deception, he was hurt because he wasn't able to help me through those moments of grief, which he felt was his responsibility. But I knew better, it wasn't his job to take care of me, and I didn't blame this on him.

That was all of my fault and I had to find a way to fix it so that it didn't happen again. I needed to start my therapy session again; however, I had a different thought as to who I would being speaking to from now on: Moira.