Truth is, I never got angry about the alcohol smell - I only got mad when he didn't take care of himself.

I watched silently as he stumbled to his feet, trying to pick up the bottles, only to drop one.

James crouched down, trying to pick up the broken glass with his bare hands, but being drunk, he only managed to cut himself badly.

He slumped to the floor, staring at his bleeding hands, choking up: "I'm hurt - why won't you come check on me? Weren't you ...