The brandy in my glass sits still. I don't drink, but he likes it when I do. He thinks I'm beautiful when I let the stench and burn of vodka slide down my throat. He tells me that my eyes are lovely.

And so I believe him.

They're brown.

And Justin says brown is his favorite color. And so he pushes a glass of Courvoisier towards me and I take with half smiles. It burns and twists, it's climbing it's way up but he smiles and touches my hand, and I swallow with obedience. I never drank alcohol before him, but Justin said it built character. And so I'd take it with great impertinence and I'd let him know that I thought so too.

A real woman could handle chandeliers and champagne in a crowded ballroom with a stomach full of juices but yet still dancing and gracing others.

And he used to say that and I believed him, because I needed him. And he'd tell me to join him in things that my mother never approved of and I would always comply. He was too beautiful to resist, his words too soft for me to look away.

Sitting in backless dresses with glasses of sour consequences, he made me feel numb. I'd let things drown in my throat and I'd allow him to do things I never dreamed of. He held a power over me. I never thought twice about slipping into sequined cocktail dresses and applying red lipstick, a color that would be smeared across champagne flutes and martini glasses.

He always assured me that he'd make me feel happy and I would always believe him with wide eyes. My palms were faced down, I couldn't ask him of anything. He had already given me my delicate dresses and his full smiles. I couldn't ask of anything, I couldn't let him know I wanted or needed.

But at night, when he was away, he was always away, he never stayed with me at nights, I'd sit, slumped over in a chair. I would try not to cry because he hated tears and and I knew that he'd taste the salt on my cheeks when he stumbled in at 4 in the morning. And I couldn't scream because no one would hear. The walls were so quiet and I begged for them to speak but they only stared at me with their beige faces and boat designs.

And so I'd stare at the little minibar in the corner of my eye and I cursed him for making me this way. For making me so vulnerable and making me become a girl with a stomach full of sour juices and regret. He swept me up so long ago with his charm and he became an endeavor for me and before I knew it, I soon became his endeavor. He was good like that; he played chess like a true Fischer and I had become his pawn. And there were many a pawn, but I was special, he had said. And I'd sip on the Hennessy that he pushed in front of me. With a tiny gesture and a small nod, he had me in his grasp and it was just aces from there. It was so long ago when I felt like the girl who only wore black on days of mourning. He snatched me up from a land of little dreams and hope and I said goodbye to mother and goodbye to little girls like me and tinkly laughs. And how long had it been since I tasted something that wouldn't laugh in my throat?

Muscle and sinew, twisting and shouting, open doors and burning sensations. That was the first taste of alcohol and the first taste of sin. It was just like that, a bit of pain, a bit of salty waters in my eyes, and a satisfied grin on his face.

I'm so lovely, or so he says. I'm fit for diamonds and little pearls, or so he says. I look slender and beautiful in black and red lipstick makes me look so fresh, or so he says. And what can I do but listen and sip on a glass of chardonnay? I am helpless and I am hopeless without him.

I blinked, a tear. I closed my eyes and my head began to spin. The corners are calling to me, and a small price list is screaming at my face. I blinked, a smell of something foul in the air. I blinked, a slide of juices down my throat. I blinked, a sound of falling on the rose carpet.

A click, the door shuts and he picks me up all over again.

And it's like this, just an addiction, so lovely and so daily.

And I love him, because he picks me up and he dresses me up in sequined gowns.