Sara Has A Monkey On Her Back

When Sara comes home at the end of the day there is no one there waiting for her. She switches on the bare bulb that hangs in the kitchenette. Her hands are sweating and smell like smoke, fast food, and coffee. The police uniform she'd put on just eight hours ago now hangs limply from her exhausted frame. She blinks her heavily made up eyes as she grabs a bottle of vodka from the ancient icebox. She takes a large swallow, grimaces as the cheap booze burns it's way down her throat as it lands in her stomach like a lead balloon, exploding into hundreds of tiny little fireballs as it careens into her bloodstream. Then...euphoria. Or so she thinks. Little does she know it, over the next twenty four hours, her alcoholism will lead her to a place she thought she'd never find - salvation.