My chest tightens as my all too vivid memories haunt me. I remember as I struggled to get the door open of the downstairs bathroom. I had just gotten home from work and we were supposed to be celebrating our anniversary. I shoved and shoved the door using all my weight with my shoulder as battering ram. Steam surrounded me as it escaped the narrowly open door. I had only managed to open it enough to get my head in. He was blacked out on the floor, again. The hot shower had been running long enough that the steam had soaked every inch of the bathroom and even the fixtures outside the shower were dripping water. He lay, contorted, with his pants around his ankles. One boot on, one boot off and his truck keys dangling from his open hand. I let the door slam back into place as I fell to the floor, buried my face in my hands and sobbed. There will be no celebration today.