“As much as I hate this fucking place, I need it. If I break the rules then I’ll be out on my ass like you.”“On my ass?” the elderly man ask.... “I ain’t one of those piss drunks that kill people lie that fucker there.” He then points up at the television.Robert steps closer to the bar, closer to the man, close enough to smell the putrid smell of alcohol on his breath. On the television is the news and on it is a picture and a story about another drunk driver responsible for killing a couple. Under no circumstances were my parents to be told. I rang the number provided, went directly to the address with my five-pound note and was received by a grinning maid who considered that I seemed underage and asked to see "the note from your Mummy allowing you to attend."Giggling, she then led me into a bedroom with the comment, "We've had several boys from your school recently," and told me to strip. A blonde girl in her mid-20s soon appeared at the bedroom door and instructed the maid to. I sat on the bed next to her. We always discussed everything on this bed. Any time I had a problem Mom was there and we worked through it. Her door was always open. We've been jumping up on her bed together and talking since as long as I could remember. This helped to ease the tension in the air. It didn't feel very much different from any other time we had been in the same exact place. "Darrell." Mom broke the silence. "I want to talk for a little while. Please don't say anything until I. He assured me that was far from the case, if anything it showed me that I’d been able to push my body further than my mind would have normally allowed. That was something he was sure I’d need and would be valuable when I joined the Marines. He then went on to describe in loose terms about the limitations the mind would set and how to push past that.Going to that “happy place” that I’d gone to when getting tattooed was part of it. This was something I’d always heard of but never really.