CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Twelve Step Program" Creepypasta

Episode Date: June 1, 2022

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by kohlkenneth56: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

I knew I'd made a mistake in coming, but I took a seat nonetheless. All of the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting on my side of town seemed warm and welcoming. All of the people were friendly and knew me by name. There were hugs, handshakes, slaps on the back. The rooms were well lit with comfortable chairs. There were always freshly baked cookies or doughnuts. A recent falling out with my sponsor, Ralph, had caused me to choose to avoid some of my normal meetings though.

I had already been down to two meetings a week, which Ralph had so poignantly called me to the carpet on, so I didn't want to cut those out completely. I had been feeling antsy lately, and probably needed to go to a few more. Never the type to ask for help, I was unwilling to admit it, though. Instead, I decided to try a few meetings on the other side of the tracks.

Whitehall, the seedy part of town. Stupid Ralph. You're only as sick as your secrets, he said. I had made a list of all those I had harmed and went about making amends to them all. Some accepted my apologies. Some didn't. All I could do was clean on my own side of the street.

There were a few amends that were impossible to make, but I had admitted all of my sins to either my sponsor, my therapist, or my priest. All but the one thing. that is. That's what Ralph kept harping on. I had stayed sober for 15 years. I deserved to keep the one thing to myself, didn't I?

Stupid Ralph. I chose a group with the innocuous name of New Hope that met in the basement of St. Pete's Episcopal Church. While groups sometimes did actually meet in church basements, they were rarely as depicted on television or in the movies. That's just not the way things. worked. Hollywood had gotten the coffee and donuts part down to a tea, but missed the mark on most of the rest. Sadly, there weren't even any donut to the New Hope group. I wish that I'd known.

I would have sprung for some. A.A. had given me my life back and brought a good bit of financial security with it, so I don't mind giving back now and again. I made my way over to the coffee earn, making eye contact with a few people on the way. I didn't even bother to smile. The most I got was some grunts and shrugs as I walked by. I'd already decided that I wouldn't ever be coming back to this group, so why bother? I wasn't about to walk out though.

Giving up was for losers. I grabbed a styrofoam cup from the top of the stack, which already had some black smudged fingerprints on the outside, and filled it with a sludge that they'd have. called coffee here at St. Pete. I threw a book into the basket on the table and plopped into a chair that seemed to be farthest away from everyone else. This was nothing like the usual meetings I hit.

The church's basement room was about 40 by 40 feet square. There were eight rectangular folding tables set up in a makeshift circle with wooden chairs set along the outside. Unfortunately, there would be no speaker. This was a discussion meeting. They would most likely read something out of some bit of AA approved literature, the big book, 12 and 12, or some meditation book, and then go around the room, weighing in on their own personal experience, strength and hope.

I didn't feel like talking, but the one bit of my sponsor's advice that I had latched on to early was to always say something, always be part of. Even though the ceiling held banks of fluorescent light, the room still seemed cold. Perhaps it was the type of bulb they used. Were they different types? Or perhaps it was the way the light reflected of the sickly yellow linoleum floor and institution green walls. It smelled funny too.

Oh well, I thought, it's only for an hour. I'd spent twice that amount of time scraping to get the change for another bottle while fighting off the shakes in the past. In comparison, this would surely be more pleasurable than that. That's what it came down to, wasn't it? For me, to drink is to die. There were times that I had done the most disgraceful things in order to get drunk. Things that would have sickened me if I had been sober and not fiending for the next drink.

So, if sitting through a boring meeting in a crappy place meant not drinking, even for only an hour, then so be it. Not a difficult choice. I am not a snob, but I thought that people there seem to be a little lower class than what I was used to. I'm by no means rich, but by now I've gotten my life together. I'm back in the upper middle class demographic. The meetings that I attended were regularly frequented by businessmen, doctors, realtors, and other professionals.

Frankly, even the blue-collar people at my normal meetings seemed to be upper class compared to these people. These people were, and I have to remind myself that I was being honest and not uncaring. The dregs of society. Unshaven, unkempt, tattooed, greasy, foul-smelling. A.A. had taught me not to judge. There, but for the grace of God, go I. Still, it was hard. Just before the meeting was called to order, a man plopped down into the chair next to me.

Oh, come on, buddy, I thought. Ten empty chairs, plenty to keep enough distance between all of us, and you have to sit right next to me. I sighed. At least this guy seemed friendly. Short, stout, PC for obese, with a red, round face. He introduced himself. Hi there, name's Mike. How about you?

Danny, I said, as I extended my hand. At least Mike was dressed well. Buttoned down shirt, slacks, dress shoes. He was even wearing cologne. Or was it the smell of booze? No, I decided it was cologne. The guy's breath smelled bad, though. Not smelled, as in drinking smelled, but just reaped.

His teeth seemed white enough, but it was as if he hadn't brushed in ages. Mike tried to make small talk. I haven't seen you before. How long have you been coming to these meetings? About 16 years, I replied. I came in for a year and then decided that I wasn't ready to stop. I went back out for a while and I've been sober ever since. 15 years, one month, one week and two days.

Wow! Mike seemed truly amazed. How many minutes? I just smiled. Me, Mike continued, I've only been coming for about a month now. I'll have 30 days on Wednesday. Well, congratulations. For some people, those first 30 days are the hardest.

Real white knuckle time. Mike was definitely pink-clouding it. That's the term for AA's in early sobriety who think that life has suddenly become wonderful and carefree. After a good period of sobriety, it kicks in that drunk or not, life still has challenges. There's just no more alcohol to make the bad feelings go away.

I'll be getting my chip. Mike was of course referring to the coloured aluminium medallion that, although not universally used, has become almost synonymous with AA. Sobrity coins themselves do not help people stay sober as much. It's the meaning behind them that is important. When a person receives a coin for one month, three months, or a long period of time, the coin gives a sense of pride for staying sober as long as they have and to motivate them to continue.

If a person should feel the desire to drink again, they might finger the coin in their pocket to remind them up all the headway they have made up to that point. It makes them ask themselves if they truly want to throw away all that progress. I never like the chips. I would occasionally step back and remember exactly how much sober time I had. remember that last drunk vividly, but I didn't want a constant reminder.

I felt it would make it easier to ask the question. Has it been long enough? Am I cured now? The conversation was surprisingly pleasant enough, but I was happy when the meeting began all the same. Same old, same old. Business first, then reading, then around the table sharing. When 8 o'clock rolled around,

the chairperson indicated that it, was time to close, and they joined hands for the Lord's Prayer. A.A. is not a religious organisation, but saying the Lord's Prayer at the end is sort of a tradition in most, but not all groups. It's a sign of unity, if nothing else. I really didn't plan to stick around for fellowship afterwards, but I always stayed long enough to help clean up. However, before I got to the door, Mike cornered me. Hey I Am I going to see you around here again

Hey A bolder face Probably not I live on the other side of town I just stopped here tonight because Well it was convenient I guess that had not technically been a lie AAs had to be careful

Practice these principles in all of our affairs Lies paved a slippery slope Oh Mike seemed dejected It's just that they say to get phone numbers. You know, it's a call for when you feel like drinking, and I was wondering if I could get yours. My shoulders relaxed a little.

Of course, Mike, that's never a problem. Never feel like you can't use it. Mike wouldn't use it. Most of the noobies never did. I pulled out a pen and jotted it down in the back of Mike's meeting pamphlet anyway. There you go. Thanks, Danny. Mike shook the pamphlet.

I would definitely use this. You're a lifesaver. You guys are great. Mike bounced away. I made my way out into the parking lot and stood behind the wheel of my 2012 Keir. I said a little prayer for Mike. Hope he makes it.

Who knew? Maybe being at that meeting was God's way of putting him in the right place at the right time. I rolled through the burking drive-thru on the way home to pick him an artery-clogging dinner. I just wanted to flick on the television, eat, shower and get to bed. It had been an exhausting day. I'd barely pulled into my garage when my cell phone began to jingle.

I finished parking, unbuckle my seatbelt and answered the phone right there in the front seat. It was an old habit, probably not a healthy one, but I just had to pick up the phone when it rang. I could not bear the thought of someone leaving a message. I had heard stories of AAs who were never able to get through to someone, and things didn't turn out well. Once their faith in the system was broken, especially the newcomers, they didn't trust it anymore. Hello? Dano, it's Mike. Uh, I shifted the phone to my right here.

What's up, Mike? Oh, no, no, no, no. Don't worry, Dan. I'm not thinking of drinking. Just wanted to test out the number. Practice call, you know. They say to get used to calling when you don't need to, and that way it'll be easy to call when you need to, right? Um, yeah, Mike, that's a great idea. So, what's up? Um, well, not a whole lot since I saw you. I drove home, that's about it.

I said with a smirk in my face, I'm about to have some dinner and then it's off to bed. Oh, okay, Mike replied. You have your things. dinner and get a great night. Maybe I'll talk to you tomorrow. Sure, Mike, tomorrow. I showered, toweled off and padded into my bedroom. I slid into a pair of silk boxes and fell into bed. I didn't imagine that I would have any problem sleeping. I was physically exhausted, but as usual, my mind raced a mile a minute. I was never able to fall asleep without the radio turned on. Even when I was ready to pass out.

My head would hit the pillow And the stinking thinking would kick in That's how I discovered the wonders of talk radio Diled into a pundit Recapping the day's news in a soothing voice I pulled the chain of my bedside lamp And plunge the room into darkness The pillow was cool

My stomach was full My mind had calmed Sleep began to My phone jingled I prop myself up on one elbow used the remote to turn off the radio and grab the phone from the nightstand. Its screen lit up with a number of the incoming call,

but I didn't recognize it. It wasn't a name that had been programmed into my phone. I briefly considered putting the phone back down and letting it go to voicemail, but I knew that I would not be able to sleep until I heard the message and, more than likely, called whomever it was back. I sighed.

Hello? Danny, Mike sounded grave this time. Sorry to call so late. I mean, I know you said that you were going to hit the hay, and I didn't want to bother you, but... So okay, Mike, go ahead. Remember how I said that? I'd be getting my chip in a couple of days.

Yeah? I can't believe it'll have been a month already. You know, the day I took my last drink was a special day. Every day is a special day When it's your last drunk day, Mike Yeah, yeah But I mean special It was the anniversary of

Well Mike began to get flustered See, my wife and I My ex-wife that is And I lost our daughter that day I swung my legs out from under the covers and sat up Oh, I'm sorry Oh, don't be Danny

It happened so long ago, long time ago. It would have been a 21st birthday, Mike trailed off. So long ago, the denial, the depression, the sadness, the anger, I started drinking afterward and just never thought to stop, until now that is. That's a long time to be suing in it, Mike. Do you want to talk about it? Nah, Danny, no sense dredging up the past, not when I'm doing so well.

You're only as sick as your secrets, Mike. God, I hated it when my sponsor was right. Yeah, yeah, maybe when I'm feeling a little more stable, Danny. Maybe I'll talk about it then. I'm just not doing so well right now. I spoke with Mike for about half an hour, and, when I was convinced that Mike was over the urge to drink, let him off the phone, and promised to meet him the following day.

I lay down my phone and swung back under the covers and smiled on my face. What was it, they say? Even if Mike went out and drank that night, at least I stayed sober. Help yourself by helping others. I forgot to turn the radio back on. And that night, I dreamt about the one thing. I awoke to the sound of my phone. It wasn't the alarm tone, but the ringtone.

Another call. I had come to recognise Mike's number by now. This was getting a little annoying, but sometimes that's the way it went. Mike would either fall off the wagon soon, or he would start to make new contacts. In the meantime, I would just have to deal with it. Good morning, Mike. Dan, my man, good to hear your voice. Yeah, I said, scratching the back of my head.

It's been like six or seven hours now, huh? Oh, yeah, I'm not bothering you, am I? No, no. Yes, yes, I thought. So how did last night go? Didn't drink, did you? Nope, and I owe it all to you, Dan. Wow, Mike, you picked up the phone and made the call,

so you can give yourself a little pat on the back. That phone can seem real heavy when it stands between you and a drink. Ain't that the truth? So, are you hitting the meeting this morning? Um, no, Mike. I have a job. I tried not to sound ticked off. I have to work today.

I promise that we'll get to work. one tonight. You pick it out and call me back around six, okay? Got it, Dano, six. Talk to you then. My worst fear came true. Three more calls during the day. Mike had picked a group called

as Bill sees it on my side of town. I decided that I would need to have a talk with Mike that evening. Calling when in need or even for occasional friendly support was fine. But there was such a thing as abusing the sister. You know, the boy who cried wolf sort of thing. I was about ready to throw my always-answer-the-phone policy out the door. I didn't look forward to the conversation and had a rough time forcing my dinner down that evening.

I wasn't hungry, but as usual, I tried to keep my stomach full. HALT. Hungry, angry, alone, tired. Four things an alcoholic never wanted to be. of those could be a set-up for another drink. As I was finishing my second hot dog, wrapped in white bread with ketchup, just as I liked them, my phone rang again. I checked the screen. Bloody Mike. Again, I decided that I wouldn't answer it and let it go to voicemail. Seconds later, it rang again. Didn't that guy get a message? I let it go to voicemail again.

Another few minutes passed and it rang again I wondered if Mike had changed his mind Maybe he couldn't make it to the meeting after all Still I let it go to voicemail Thankfully more minutes passed And Mike did not call back I felt like a heel But I just couldn't deal with it anymore

At around a quarter of seven I tie my shoes and gather my wallet and car keys As I headed to the door My phone jingled Mike This time I answered Hey Mike I'm headed out the door right now

Oh thank God Dan exclaimed Mike I couldn't get a hold of you And then I started to worry I wondered if maybe you went out drinking again I Mike slow down buddy I was beginning to let my temper

get the best of me Would you Oh look Just wait for me at the meeting Outside we need to talk Mike was breathing more regularly now Oh Danny You really had me going there

Well anyway You can ride with me What I stride out of the back door And pressed the button to lift the garage As the door rolled up It gradually revealed a battered Green Honda sitting in the drive

Mike sat behind the wheel With the engine idling I was taken aback I walked briskly Up to the driver's side door and motioned for Mike to lower the window. After a moment, with a confused look on his face, Mike hit the button and the window glided down.

What's wrong, Dan? Hop in. I thought that maybe we could ride to the meeting together. Then maybe grab a cup of coffee after, huh? I was fed up. No, no, Mike, no meeting, no coffee after. I don't have time for this. I don't know what to do with you.

You cannot keep calling me. How the hell did you even find where I live? live. Oh, uh, Mike looked shamefacedly. I guess maybe I, uh, followed you home last night. What the hell? Sorry Dan, I'm new at this. I really don't know how it works. How it works? Having a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs. I thought it over and softened.

Okay, Mike, here's how it goes, I said calmly. I'll come to the meeting, but I drive there myself. We talk a little. After the meeting, I come home alone. No coffee, no more calling, unless you really need to, like, I'm going to drink need to. I'll be clear? Mike looked a little hurt, but replied. Okay, clear, Dano. I got into my kear. and followed Mike to the meeting. We sat next to each other, but Mike was uncharacteristically quiet. Afterward, we separated in the parking lot

with a nary word. See you tomorrow, Danny. Maybe. Oh, hey, said Mike. There's a candlelight meeting called Nighthouse tonight at the... All right, sorry. Tomorrow, Mike.

I stressed. I thought that Mike may have gotten the message, but just in case I turned my phone off for the evening for what was probably the first time in years. That night, I had a nightmare about the one thing. I pulled myself from bed and showered in the morning and I almost forgotten my phone. Still wrapped in a towel with damp hair, I walked over to the nightstand and turned it on. I returned to the bathroom as it went through the boot-up process, and then I heard a message

tone from the next room. Hmm, wonder who that could be. Six missed calls from Mike. One, two voicemails, four texts. Thanks for coming, Dan, said one. Sure you don't want to go to the meeting, said another. Great meeting, should have been there. And, need to talk.

I didn't want any confrontation today. I turned my phone back off, dressed and left home. I knew. Just not. knew that Mike would show up at my door after not receiving answers for long enough. I planned to not be there. Even though it was a Saturday, I would hang out at my office. There was a couch there.

I could take a nap if need be, and I did need it after the previous night. I felt silly and demoralised. It was my own house, damn it. I was being chased away from my own home by. Well, a stalker. Should I call the police? No, I decided. I would talk to my sponsor first.

Not daring to turn myself back on for fear that it might ring in my hand. Upon arriving at my office, I picked up my desk phone and dialed in Ralph's number. Ralph was no help. At least, he didn't tell me what I wanted to hear. Just suck it up. I've had my share of pigeons who either tried too hard or didn't try hard enough. My guess is that this mite guy will turn out to be one or the other. Why don't you bring him along to tonight's meeting?

I'll meet you guys at the acceptance group tonight. Maybe I can ever talk with him. Yeah, I suppose. I turned my cell back on in order to call Mike and invite him to the acceptance group that evening. Six missed calls, and it was barely noon. I sighed and began to scroll to Mike's number when my phone jingled.

I didn't even need to look at the number to know who it was. Hi Mike Danny, I tried to Yeah, I know Mike I've been at work I just turned my phone on and saw that you were called A nicely thought ran down my spine

Did Mike know where I worked too Anyway, my sponsor suggested That I introduce you to him tonight We're going to St Andrews to a meeting called The Acceptance Group Want to come Are you kidding? Do you even need to ask? I would never pass on the chance to meet my sponsor

a sponsor? He's like, what, my grand sponsor? Whoa, I thought about it. I never had the talk of me being Mike's sponsor come up. A sponsor is a recovering alcoholic who has successfully made some personal progress in the AA recovery program. He or she is asked by another AA member to take on the individual responsibility of sponsorship. A sponsor shares their experiences on an individual and personal basis with another alcoholic who is trying to achieve or maintain their own sobriety through the AA program. They help the person focus and navigate through the stages of the program. The relationship between an AA member and his sponsor is usually a pretty close and intimate one, and not gone into

lightly. Not only does an alcoholic need to carefully choose a sponsor, but also the potential sponsor must cautiously decide whether taking on a sponsor is prudent. I gave him a the benefit of the doubt though. Mike was new at this. Hey now, Mike, I'm just another alcoholic willing to help you out. I'm not really in the right state of mind to sponsor anyone. Not until I rid my conscience of the one thing anyway.

Oh, okay. Don't feel bad, Mike. You're new. You'll catch on to how this works. Then, I had the thought. One that might rid me of Mike for good. Ralph really helped me out. Maybe he'd be a good.

good choice for you to consider. Eh, it won't be the same as you, Dan. You'd be surprised. We're all the same in one way or another. Promise me that you'll keep an open mind. Okay, anything for you, Dano. I hung up and takes his directions to the meeting. Then I turned my phone back off.

I decided I'm trying to catch a little nap after all, and so curled up on the couch in the reception area of my office. I drifted off almost immediately. But it didn't last long. I awoke screaming and in a cold sweat just 45 minutes later. I felt my face and realised that I'd been crying also. I dreamt of the one thing. Why thought of it returned and in such force?

Damn Ralph. He brought it up and started pressing me. That would make sense. Although I had a feeling that Mike had something to do with it. guilt over avoiding him, constantly having to look over my shoulder and avoid phone calls, or perhaps the fact that Mike had lost his daughter. I pushed the one thing to the back of my mind once again and decided to cross the street to McDonald's to get in at least one meal before that evening's meeting.

I had to cross a four-lane street in order to reach McDonald's. It was the middle of the afternoon, clear weather, and, being a Saturday, there was only light traffic. I absentmindedly glanced in both directions and crossed, not bothering to walk the corner and wait for his signal. I was about halfway across when, seemingly, out of nowhere, a car came racing at me. The driver was noticeably straddling the double-stripped centre line of the road

and over-corrected when he noticed me at the last moment. I could hear the tyres screech as the driver got back into his own lane and sped off. A drunk knew the signs when he saw another drunk driving under the influence. This guy was definitely drunk. Probably drinking in his car all morning and then falling asleep at the wheel after finally deciding to go home. I'd done it myself for many occasions. Even though I could have stayed home and drank contently and safely in the comfort of my living room, I would choose to sit at a park on some mornings and drink in my car.

I thought of how strange the ritual was and how much of how. it was not unique to me. On any given morning, there would be a spattering of cars in each lot, all parked as far away from each other as a lot would allow. Each car with a single occupant seemingly just sitting there, every now and then, would glance over and catch the sight of a bottle being raised to the driver's lips. Fred, another guy from one of the meetings, would occasionally go down to the local park and work it.

He'd walk around the lots and catch drunks, pretending that he had just been walking by, I was looking to make conversation. Sometimes his presence was enough to make the drunk drive away. Sometimes they'd stay and talk. Sometimes they would even offer him a drink. Only twice, as far as I'm aware of, did Fred actually get a drunk to open up about his problem

and agree to take Fred's advice? It might not have seemed like a lot, but that may have been two lives saved. Plus countless others, if you figured in the innocent lives a drunk might take along with himself on the highway to hell. I began to hyperventilate. I ran the rest of the way across the street and sat on the curb, my gorge rising.

I tried to calm myself, but could not. Eventually, I threw up in the gutter. It wasn't the first time, but in the past, I'd always been drunk or hung over. I realized how pitiful I must have looked. I'd never seemed to care in the past. Eating was out of the question. I went back to the parking lot of my office, crossing the street with extra care this time. and got into my car. I drove straight to the church. I would be almost an hour and a half early,

but that was okay. Someone was always there early to open up the rooms and make coffee. It was nice to shop and chat sometimes. Not surprisingly, Mike was already there when I arrived. He was sitting out in the parking lot, but remained in his car. It looked like he was dozing. I walked over and wrapped on the driver's side window a few times. Mike startled, and he rolled down the window. Danny, you're early. That's great. Yep, couldn't wait to get here, Mike,

I said sarcastically. Tell you what, let's go around back and grab a bench. I led Mike behind the church. There was a small outdoor chapel of sorts, just a few benches facing a large, wooden cross, and overlooking a small stream. I motioned for Mike to take a seat, and then sat down next to him.

Mike, let's talk. I felt surprisingly calm. I know that you're pretty new to the program, and this may be skipping ahead quite a bit, but let me explain how the fourth and fifth step of AA goes. They are, to me at least, probably the most important steps of all 12. They are where you begin healing.

Sounds great, Dan. Not really. I did a really bad job on my fifth step. Remember how I told you that you're only as sick as your secrets? Mike nodded. Yeah, Danny? The fourth and fifth steps

ask you to make a searching and fearless moral inventory and then admit to God, ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. I can see where that would help. I have so much guilt and remorse, Danny. Sometimes I think it's what makes me drink.

I shook my head. No, Mike, you drink. because you're an alcoholic, but it's a whole lot easier to get sober when you get your head on straight, when you get rid of all that mess that's deep down inside, the stuff that regrets are made of.

So, are we going to do that now? Not we, me. I thought you already did your steps. I nodded. I did, Mike, I did. But the fourth and fifth steps are carried on throughout the rest.

We have to continue to make a moral inventory and do those steps over and over because we are human. Just because we get sober doesn't make us saints, we still make mistakes. Mike nodded slowly and remained quiet. It was as if he knew that I was about to say something important and it was time to keep his mouth shut. You see, Mike, there was something that I never admitted in my fifth step,

something that I couldn't admit, the one thing that I wasn't ready to give up. I don't know why. But it's catching up to me now. I'm afraid that if I don't let it go, I'm either going to drink or kill myself, or both. What is it, Dano? This is probably a mistake,

telling a newcomer, especially about the one thing. In fact, this would be better left with a priest, but at this point, it doesn't matter because I'm going to have to own up to it. The one thing is something that everyone will find out about sooner or later, probably sooner now. You can tell me, Danny, your secret is safe with me. Suddenly, it was as if Mike had become the old-timer.

His demeanour changed. He surely didn't seem like a newbie anymore. The whole way he was acting, he had gone from being an annoying, over-excited asshole to a quiet, comforting soul, at least in my heart. I took a deep breath. I've been sober for about 15 years,

one month, one week and four days. I told you that I came into the rooms about 16 years ago, though. Well, something happened about six months into that. I'd been dry, sure, but still an alcoholic, still exhibiting all the same behaviour. That's what the programme is for, by the way. Not to make us stop drinking, but to make us saner, healthier people.

Well, Mike, I, my breath hitched to my throat. I was already regretting bringing this up, but I felt it was too late now. Go on, Dano, I'm listening. It was late summer, around seven o'clock dusk. I was driving up Parkside Avenue. You know the place. Yeah, as a matter of fact, I used to live in a cold sack off Parkside.

Then, you know the hill about midways. Anyway, I was coming up over the crest of the hill, talling along, pink clouding it, stone cold sober, mind you. A girl. A little girl, damn it. She came out from between two parked cars and just, just ran out in front of me. Oh God, Danny, no. Yeah, I couldn't stop it. I ran her down, Mike, a little girl.

That's horrible, Mike grimaced. But it was an accident, Danny. You said so yourself. He was sober. She ran out from between the cars. You couldn't have known. No, but he was one. what I did next that was unforgivable. What then? Mike rocked back, laced his fingers together,

and knitted his brow. He'd a clear-headed look about him, one that I had never seen on Mike's face before. What was unforgivable? I took a deep breath. I didn't stop. I just kept on driving. I panicked. It was like I'd been drinking. I didn't want to get caught. After what I realized, that it was a mistake. At the time, I just panicked. I acted just like a drunk would have. I left her there, Mike. Maybe she was still alive, but I left her there. What if she was just hurt and could have been saved if I'd just stopped? She was dead the instant you hit her, Dan. You couldn't know that. I didn't know that, and I was there. I do know it, Danny. That's what the EMT said. Dead on impact. I jerked to my head.

head up. It was as if my stomach had dropped out from under me, like the first hill on a roller coaster. What did you say? When I got there, that's what the E&T told me, dead on impact. She didn't suffer. She probably had no idea what had happened. What the hell are you talking about, Mike? She was my daughter, Danny, speechless. I sat still for a moment and then started shaking my head violently. No, screw you, Mike. Her father is dead. I followed the story in the papers. He killed himself two months after the accident, got drunk and drove into a bridge. Why the hell would you even say something like that? Mike had tears swelling up in the corners of his eyes. Because now I know, Danny. Now I know that you are ready to free yourself of the one thing.

Screw you, Mike. How can you pull something like this? How can you even say something like that? Do you think that this is a joke? He stormed away, sobbing, and walked toward the church. Ralph had arrived and was walking in himself. He noticed how upset I was and stopped me, grabbing my shoulder and turning me around somewhat forcefully. Danny, what's wrong? What's going on? That asshole. I told him, Ralph. I told him the one thing. And do you know what he said? Slow down, Danny, said Ralph. If you're ready, why don't you tell me what the one thing is first?

My secret is no longer a secret. I told Ralph exactly what I told Mike. And he said that he's a father, that dick. Who, Danny? Who? Mike! That idiot who's been harassing me. Where is he, Danny? Is he here? I'll talk to him. I turned and pointed at the bench.

He was sitting right there. Ralph cocked his head. Danny, are you okay? No, I'm upset and with good reason. I just told him the one thing, and he goes out and says that. Ralph's brow wrinkled with concern. Danny, I've been here for 20 minutes waiting for you to go inside. I saw you sitting there on the bench talking to yourself

and thought that you were praying or needed some time to yourself. You're alone the whole time, Danny. I scanned the parking lot. No battered green hinder. I started to breathe heavily and pulled out my phone. I scroll through my call log. All of the calls I had made and received. All of the texts.

Nothing. The only call in the last three days was the one I had made to Ralph that same morning. There was one message waiting in my inbox. It had no number associated with it. I forgive you, Danny.