What whiskey does to a man

What Whiskey Does To Man
“Where do you think you’re going?” Joey asked as he yanked my arm, pulling me closer to him. With me in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other he wasn’t the Joey I had loved and married. He was a stranger to me.
“My moms house…” I was frightened. I didn’t want to be near him anymore. He always hit me when he decided to drink. And that was everyday now. Fighting back the tears I yanked back my arm and grabbed my bags.
“I can’t be with you like this. Your drinking has gotten out of contr—GAHH!” I shrieked and hit the floor feeling where his fist had hit under my eye. Scooting away from him I begged him to please stop. Backing all the way up to wall I had nowhere all to go and Joey knew this. He wrapped his cold clammy hand around my throat and I could smell the whiskey on his breath as he spoke.
“You aren’t going anywhere. You can’t make it without me. You are nothing,” he said tightening his grip with every word. He put the glass to his lips and drank the rest of the brown liquid in it. In doing so he finally let go. He was drunk and stumbling around. He plopped on our living room couch and scream at me, slurring every word that came off his lips.
I couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. I just waited for him to fall asleep, and soon he was. I stood up quietly from where I sat on the floor and grabbed my bags. Opening the door I felt free at last. I would never go back to Joey and I would never be hurt again.