CHAPTER1
Do you ever ask yourself how the choices you make each day—little, meaningless ones—how those choices affect and shape the rest of your life? If you’ve ever asked yourself or wondered if it even matters, let me tell you a story… and you can decide.
This is the story of a girl.
Anyone who knew her—or even met her briefly—would tell you she was the sweetest thing. By all standards, she was the quintessential ‘girl next door.’ At twenty-six, she’d never been drunk, kissed more than one guy, or intentionally broken a single one of the Ten Commandments. She lived her life trying to honor God—and her parents—with every decision she made.
Does she sound too perfect? Maybe even a bit nauseating? She’s the kind of girl people want to hate but can’t, because she’s just too dang nice.
She would be the first to admit she wasn’t perfect. She’d probably laugh, shrug, and tell you she’d rather talk about anything but her personal life—because even she found it a little too boring sometimes.
But those who really knew her, knew that sometimes she longed to throw caution to the wind. To let loose. To be the kind of person who didn’t overthink every move, didn’t fear the outcome, didn’t analyze every potential consequence.
Sometimes, she even made plans to be spontaneous—do something reckless and brave, that didn’t involve rules or fear. But when the moment came, she never could give in to temptation. She was too afraid of the unknown. She always sided with the quiet conviction in her heart over the wild voice in her head.
Until one night.
It started innocently enough—a dinner out with a couple of guys from work. The three of them ended up at a Mexican Kitchen and Tequilla Bar. As usual, there was alcohol. As usual, when asked if she wanted a drink, she said no. She always said no. It had become so routine, she would barely realize the word had left her lips.
But that night felt different.
Halfway through the evening, something shifted. She started to wonder—what would it feel like to do just one shot?How much could one little cup of liquid affect her? She
wouldn’t get drunk, but even if she did, what harm could come from it?
Her own mother had been drunk once. So what would it matter? It wouldn’t change her. She’d still be the same person. One drink wouldn’t destroy her witness as a Christian.
It might even make her more relatable to the people she witnessed to. Drinking wasn’t a sin. Getting drunk was, sure—but one shot wasn’t the same thing. Just one little, meaningless choice. She reached for the one little cup.
She didn’t stop at one.
One shot turned into three, maybe four. To this day, she doesn’t remember how many she had. Not that it mattered. What mattered is what she remembered next.
Waking up.
In a hotel bed.
Naked.
In the arms of her equally naked coworker.
The coworker she’d secretly had a crush on for years.
The same coworker who was the hospital playboy and possibly had a live-in girlfriend.
Mortified, Elizabeth—Beth, to most—scrambled to get out of bed, but the room spun, and her stomach churned. She barely
made it to the toilet—dragging a sheet behind her—before bile burned up her throat and spilled out. The cold tile floor bit into her knees. With an arm draped across the toilet seat, she pressed her forehead to it, chest tight, trying to catch her breath. Her head throbbed, and her throat ached from the heaving.
Tears came without warning. First a few. Then more.
A sob broke through.
“What have I done?” She whispered. “How could I have been so stupid?
How could one insignificant choice lead to this?”
The gift she’d protected her whole life—saved for her future husband—was gone.
