You get drunk

The bartender, a grizzled old man with a thick mustache, looks up as you approach. "What can I get ya?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

"Vodka," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Straight up."

He nods, pouring you a generous shot.

You take it in one swift motion, feeling the burn as it travels down your throat. The bartender raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. You order another shot, and then another, losing track of time as the **** starts to take effect.

You barely notice the rough-looking bikers who start to trickle in, taking seats at the counter and ordering beers. Your focus is solely on the burning sensation in your throat, the only thing that seems to dull the pain and humiliation you feel.

You start to feel a warmth spreading through your body, and your thoughts become hazy.

The bikers at the bar start to take notice of you, and one of them, a tall, muscular man with a thick beard, leans over to you. "Hey there, beautiful," he says, his voice low and rough. "You look like you could use some company."

You turn to him, surprised to see him there. You're not sure how to respond, but something about his presence is comforting. You manage a small smile. "I'm not sure," you say, your voice still shaky. "I just had a rough day."

The biker's expression softens. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says.

"Why don't you let me buy you a drink and you can tell me about it?"

You hesitate for a moment, but then nod. "Ok," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

The biker signals to the bartender, who brings you another shot of vodka. You take it gratefully, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

The biker introduces himself as "Big John" and listens attentively as you tell him about the horrific experience you just had with Bobby. He listens with a furrowed brow, his eyes never leaving yours.

"That's fucked up," he says, his voice low and angry.

"You shouldn't have to put up with that kind of shit."

You nod, feeling grateful for his understanding. You take another sip of your drink, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

"Hey, listen," Big John says, his voice softening. "You seem drunk, and I don't think it's a good idea for you to be here alone. The bathroom is out back, why don't you go sober up a bit?"

You hesitate, unsure if you're ready to be alone. But something about Big John's tone makes you feel safe, and you realize that he's right. You need to sober up before you do anything else.

You get up from your stool, wobbling slightly as you make your way towards the back of the bar.