I laid awake for hours last night, sweating, clutching the sheets in my tight fists. The faces kept coming; I could see every detail, hear every scream. Though it was only forty five degrees in my bedroom I had thrown off the covers, they were stifling me. I tossed and turned trying to get into a more comfortable position, nothing worked, I could not find solace in sleep. I turned to my only friend, a bottle of whiskey.

There is a ritual for when I drink whiskey; the first glass is always drawn out. I love the experience and drag it out as much as possible. By the time I have had my first glass and am pouring my second, my senses are dulled and I cannot appreciate the sensations of taste and smell as well. I set the heavy tumbler down on my desk, grabbed the bottle off of the shelf then planted my behind in the overstuffed chair. I leaned back listening to the leather creak as it accepted my weight. I took the bottle and hefted it in my palm, feeling its heaviness and solidness. It was no phantom.

I read the label for a moment, though I could recite it word for word if called upon to do so. Then I eased the cork from the mouth of the bottle and allowed the savory aroma to fill my office. I breathed deep of its rich caramel bouquet, allowing it to chase my dark demons back into the recesses of my mind. Tipping the bottle cautiously over the rim of the glass, I poured myself four healthy fingers of the dark fluid, my salvation. I had not had my fill of the smell so I leaned my head over the glass and inhaled. Only then did I concede to replace the cork in its home and return the bottle to the edge of my desk, carefully ensuring that it was close at hand for round two, and probably three.

I did not take the glass immediately and gulp down the contents, as I longed to do, but rather leaned back in the chair again to admire the color of the whiskey. I watched as the currents and eddies of the moving liquid spun slowly in the glass before coming to a complete standstill. I then leaned forward and picked up the glass, its weight reassured me, the familiar sensation of the cool glass in my hand calmed my frazzled nerves somewhat. I leaned back in my chair yet again and swirled the contents of the glass once more to watch the patterns appear.

While the last of the motion I took another big whiff of the whiskey. Followed by the smallest of sips, barely enough to reach past my lips and strike my tongue. There was an explosion of flavor in my mouth; my taste buds tingled in anticipation of another drop. I yielded to my palate’s lust and poured another drop into the greedy maw. Again the sensation of the whiskey brought me peace from my wayward imagination. I could not take my own teasing anymore, so I took a nice healthy mouthful of the drink. It was heavenly.

Once the floodgates were open, I could take it no more, I greedily drained the contents of the glass swallowing the remains quickly. It took me only a moment to refill the glass, my ritual having been satisfied. The second and third glasses went down before I could ease my mind enough to think of sleep. I seated the cork down firmly in the bottle and was going to return it to its home in the cabinet when I decided on a fourth glass, better to be safe than sorry. The last glass was far from refreshing, the whiskey tasted bland and dry. I swallowed it regardless, I just wanted to get some sleep, I would need it for tomorrow was a big day in court.

I shuffled back to my bedroom, the smell enticing me to sleep, my eyes felt heavy, I knew I could slumber now. I looked at the clock to get some idea of how much I could actually mange to squeeze out of the remaining night; it read 1:18am. Five hours seemed heavenly right now. I lay down and closed my eyes, my pillow was so soft, everything felt warm and fuzzy. Best of all I saw no faces, no phantoms, I could rest.

My eyes shot open; there was pain in my neck from sleeping on my pillow the wrong way. What had awakened me? I didn’t know, I had no idea what was going on for a moment, then it hit me. I was seeing the faces again. I looked up at the clock; it read 3:42am. Two and half hours were enough for the whiskey to fade I guess. I didn’t bother to fight it anymore; I got up and headed for the whiskey cabinet. I had to get some sleep; I was due in court in a few hours.