I drank Constantly for days at a time, the beginning and end of these periods were nothing, but an alcohol induced blur.

Anything to help dull the memories of my rugged past from resurfacing. A drug and spirit infused cocktail were the only requiem to dull the harsh reality to which I had become accustomed.

Pointless fights were the only way to ease the anger and inevitable darkness that were at a constant climax.

Days would morph into weeks and weeks into months, and within no time at all I would find myself situated in an unfamiliar place, at an unrecognisable date with a liver full of alcohol and a nostril dosed with cocaine.

Finding myself in a dark period of my life, I awoke in a back alley, my head edging ever closer to collapsing in on itself.

The stench of damp rotten food and bloodstained surfaces escaped up the one cocaine free nostril.

Blurred vision was a luxury I left for my right eye. The left, however, was abandoned into pure darkness.

Nevertheless, there was something blissful about being suspended in a never-ending abyss of darkness that granted me a sense of tranquillity.

It was not until I arrived back home that I finally saw the full magnitude of the damage that had occurred to my body.

As the vision in my right eye began to focus, I captured the vast multifarious scars and open wounds that had been discarded throughout my body.

Most people may have spotted the similarities between this and the whipping of Christ before his inevitable crucifixion. But not me. I was not interested in adding a messiah complex to the abundance of problems I already had congesting my list.

In fact, I saw it as a contemporary piece of art. The slashes allowed for a rare insight into the artist's mind and soul.

The animalistic rage at the point of impact that the artist felt, was displayed clearly through the first cuts that were created, indicated only though the depth and quickness of the gashes.

As the cuts became shallower, I could see the illustrator's moral side unearthing, and the battle, most people experience, begin to undertake.

The chasms created across my body allowed for a pure, uncensored, untampered peak into his soul.

Most people would only dream of knowing their husband, son or father on such a vulnerable, deep, personal level, like how I now knew this man.

I already knew that the man and I would probably never cross paths again, but this I was okay with.

As now I always had a piece of him with me, etched into the very cells of my skin, to grow with me as I grew.

I did not find the pain euphoric – it still hurt like a bitch, but all glorious art pieces usually do.

However, the insight it gave me, knowing that I now knew him better than anyone else in his life, that was euphoric.

Pulling myself away from these numbing states was anything but easy, constantly being tempted to relapse into the dark state of mind that I once had.

However, I knew that if I was to live up to 7-year-old David's promise, I had to distance myself from the things that gave me happiness and numbness.

Week after week, I controlled my urges, keeping what lay dormant within me at bay.

22nd October 2018, the date that everything would start to change, however. No longer would I dread the little tormented boy, unable to attain valuable human connections.

The entire day started and continued like any other Friday but with one subtle difference – tonight would be the first party I had ever had the luxury to attend.

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Sat in my room, building the courage and charisma that would be valuable tools in the night ahead, I finished up getting ready.

The choice of ripped jeans and an oversized top were the best attire I could come up with.

I was not an unpopular child, I just never trusted people – this led to me distancing myself from friends or relationships. Tonight, however, that would change.

I decided to turn up to the venue 30 minutes early in order to give me a prime chance – being on-time seemed desperate and overly punctual, early even more so. The liquor of choice – Smirnoff vodka, no mixer, which lay submerged within my coat.

Surprisingly, I was greeted with open arms and everyone seemed, at least semi- pleased to see me attending this futile event. Nevertheless, I had been practicing interactions, and in my opinion, I had mastered them.

It was not long before arriving that I found myself severely inebriated, so at this point my vision, and with it my memory became quite hazy. Now looking back at this party, it appears to be similar to a slideshow in my mind only playing the highlights and even then, a few slides/hours were still unaccounted for.

The multi-coloured lights were irradiating throughout the lounge, drinks were excessively being poured and sexual ritualistic dancing and acts being performed.

Through the mist of all that, there she stood. The gleaming lights only adjusted her beauty for those unable to recognise the sheer extent of her pulchritude.

Her hair waved gracefully down the centre of her forehead creating a perfect sense of symmetry or at the very least alluding to it.

Her ghost like complexion may have turned others away, but for me it was a clear indicator of her transparency – someone that could be depended on and trusted.

The empty colouring book of her arms, an artists' semi-finished canvas; uncoloured masterpieces scattered her arms.

"Sarah". Shaking and trembling, the only word I could muster the courage to say, and from then on, my vision went black.

As I woke up the following morning, there she lay, sprawled across the covers. Her naked body completely exposed. The only thing in that moment more powerful than her beauty was the paralysing headache that had begun to encumber my head.

I was a self-proclaimed professional, drinking every day for no other reason than to forget the past.

I was not entirely sure what I had said or done that enticed her to allow me back to hers. Then it clicked. I was also naked.

I scoured the floor in search for a condom or some sign of mis happenings but there were no clear indicators.

Surely if we had sex, I would have been careful. Or was I now one of those frivolous men that slept with a plethora of women unprotected.

Panic rushed through my body as my heart rate elevated.

As Sarah awoke, her body turned and shifted closer to mine, upon her face a smile. She could clearly sense the unadulterated panic going on inside my head and set-off on settling my nerves with a single touch.

Ensuring me that everything was fine she climbed from her slumber.

"Would you like some breakfast babe?" she sweetly asked as her smile grew.

I was not entirely sure what was taking place, so I returned the smile and nodded out of confusion. Had I suddenly been bestowed magical powers that had led to this event? No.

It turned out I was a lot better of undergoing normal interactions than previously believed. Ten minutes had passed since Sarah had ran from the scene.

Pulling myself from the restraints of the bed covers; both as composed and collected as I could be, I decided to go downstairs after her.

Greeted with a collage of good mornings, as I made my way toward the dining table; located at which the breakfast lay there before me, eloquently prepared by Sarah herself.

"So, do you remember much from last night?" she enquired, seemingly already knowing the answer to her own question.

I could not tell her that I had zero recollection of last night's events, could I?

"Errmm. Yeah, of course I do. How about yourself? I replied, urgent to cover my deception the best I could.

As long as she did not mention specifics, I knew that I would be fine, or so I had hoped.

"Yeah! I remember all of it; it was so amazing." She stated before taking a sip of coffee.

Thankfully, the questioning had halted, meaning I could drive the conversation toward something that did not directly involve the complete blur of a night that had taken place the night previously.

The conversation flowed for over an hour, back and forth which - surprised me. Then it happened. The cursed question that I had dreaded so much since awakening from my slumber, seeped from her tongue.

"So, do you remember how we began talking last night?" The words as poisonous to me as the alcohol still coursing through my veins.

I was stumped. I had no idea on how to divert this. I was backed into a conversational corner with no escape, other than to go through.

"Well, you were standing alone, when I approached you saying hello." I spoke as confidently as the alcohol induced trembling would allow.

"No? it was the other way around. You had been standing alone for quite some time, so I approached you to give you some company. How drunk were you?" Again, enquiring ever deeper.

I was blown away by her reply, as I was certain the interaction had gone down the way I had remembered, I was not even drunk at the point of our first interaction of the evening.

If I had mistaken those events, to which I was so adamant about, what else had I gotten wrong, and what other disasters had occurred within the darkness in my absence.

With the help of Sarah, it all began to flow back, a stream of memories. Thankfully, someone maintained a sober sense of mind all night