**TRIGGER WARNING:** Conversation about childhood abuse and s****l assault. Proceed with caution.
Alisa
Derrick stares at me, slowly sipping on the boiling hot coffee. At long last, he sighs and gets up, heading back into the cabin, only to return a few moments later with a full bottle of whiskey.
“It’s eight in the morning,” I lightly chastise him.
“Yes, but I’m not doing this stone-cold sober.” He holds the bottle in the air and eyes the amber liquid. “This won’t even give me a buzz, but it will take the edge off.”
He drinks a lot. More than most, and it’s starting to concern me a little, but I strongly feel like now is the worst time to bring it up with him.
Derrick cracks the bottle open and downs most of it in one go. I’ve seen him do it dozens of times now, and it still amazes
