“I can’t explain what happened! He was drunk!” I yelled as I was sitting at the breakfast nook. I was disheveled and my saliva was thick and tasted like how my dog’s rotten teeth use to smell. My skin was sticky and I could bet there was food crusted somewhere near my mouth because I could see on the counter the stack of T.V. dinner trays from the night before. They had probably been licked cleaned. Normally I would microwave two or three at a time so I could binge with food after I binged with alcohol. This way I wouldn’t have to make noise going back and forth to the kitchen. If there was food on my face, however, she didn’t say anything. She had seen me like this so many times before. Fuck it, I thought.