Billy lay restlessly that night, rolling over occasionally and never quite able to find a comfortable position. After a couple sleepless hours, he sat up quietly, shooting a glance at Elizabeth and the baby who were fast asleep. Carefully, he stood up silently as not to wake them, and made his way to the kitchen. Opening up an upper cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey, one he had stashed there during his previous visit. He grasped the neck of the bottle and popped it open, slouching down in the kitchen chair. He had never completely struggled with alcoholism, but found whiskey the best thing on cold, sleepless nights
