Another drink, all I need is another drink…

That’s all that went through your head as you stumbled towards the kitchen grab to yet another bottle of vodka. You weren’t sure how much you had drunk in the past few hours.

A hand captured yours, stopping you as you reached up for the bottle. “I think you’ve had enough, love.” The familiar British accent of Ghost said from behind you.

You lazily turned to look at his sad and sympathetic eyes—your depression was really bad…