Rock Bottom (Bullet) Read Online Free

problems.  He’d be a shyster if he was just trying to prolong the process needlessly.   But what would unadulterated honesty hurt?  He’d hidden so much from Val, not wanting her to see him as weak or helpless.  Same with Brad.  For some reason, he couldn’t let them see him as vulnerable.  But this guy…well, Ethan was paying the shrink to not give a shit.  He was paying him to help him in spite of any perceived weaknesses.
    Still…he’d protected his inner self for so long that it wasn’t a simple matter to just let go.  It was going to be difficult.  And yet he knew he needed to do it, needed it desperately, because holding on was killing him.
    So he decided right then and there that he was going to be as honest as he could possibly manage.  It wasn’t going to be easy, but he knew it had to be done.  He delved as deep as he could (knowing that he could go much deeper, that there were depths he hadn’t seen since childhood), looking for an answer to Thomas’s question.  “God…lots of things.  Insecurity, fear, anger.”
    Thomas nodded.  “It’s emotional, yes, but can you tell me any specific instances?  Is there some specific time you can think of recently that sent you spiraling out of control?”
    No thinking, Ethan.  Just fucking do it.  Talk, man.  Talk.  He gritted his teeth.  He felt like he was going to vomit just thinking about it, but he was going to do it.  As honest as he could get.  “Well, it started a while back, actually, before my kid was born.  It was right before my band broke big.  My dad died.  I hated my dad, and part of me was glad he died.  But, for some stupid reason, it hurt too.  Makes no sense.  I felt like there were things I should have said, should have done, but really the bastard deserves to rot in hell.”  The shrink looked at Ethan, not judging him, not saying a word, his brown eyes simply urging Ethan to continue.  Somehow, Ethan found it comforting.  “But I got my shit together, right?  I had a band and we’d finally made it big.  We had to record a CD and then hit the road.  My dream had finally come true.  So I managed to pull it together for a while.”
    “Did you stop drinking and using?”
    “Not entirely, no.  I never did, even when I told everyone else I had.  I never stopped entirely.  I just got good at hiding it and keeping my shit together.  I got better about controlling when and where and how I used, but no.  I never stopped all the way.  Anyway, I was in a controlled period for a while until we went on tour and then it was balls out.  Holy fucking shit.  Anything and everything I could ever want:  women—lots of them, drugs of every flavor, booze flowing like water.  And when I say drugs , I’m talking premium, the best quality, not common cheap street shit.  High quality, strong stuff too.  Premium highs.  God, it was like the world was being handed to me on a silver platter, and I just lapped it up.
    “But I’m sure you already know…no matter how much I took, I couldn’t completely bury it all.  It was still there, but the booze, the drugs, the girls…they made it all quieter, you know?  Easier to manage.  It helped make me a little numb.
    “And then the wife…well, she got pregnant.  Holy shit.  Talk about a lot of fucking responsibility.  And I tried to clean up my act. I really tried.  She needed me…and I let her down.  Big time.  And you’d think having something— someone —to live for would make it easier.  Fuck no.  It made it harder.  All of a sudden, I was an adult and I had to be a husband and a father.  Again, though…for a while, I was pretty good at hiding it all.  But then I was on tour again.  Overdosed on H.  Not the first time.  I somehow made it through the tour, and I kept thinking of Chris—my son—how he needed me, needed for me to get my shit together.
    “Then something just snapped, something that had been, like, waiting in the wings, you know,