Bad Boys and Fast Cars

-Disclamer-

This story is my property and you may not use it unless I give you permission. Come on that's easy enough for me to understand you should REALLY be able to!

This story involves gay sex and sexual interaction between two dudes so if that offends you, isn't legal in your area or you are to young to read about it then move on to something else.

-Author's Rant-

Hah, looks like I get to say sorry AGAIN for taking so damned long to get a chapter out. Like I said, I've been getting in some trouble lately, and it makes it hard to get on the computer. Hopefully I get some awesome emails and start writing like mad again [hint hint]. Lol. So yeah, read and tell me what you thought!!

-End Rant-

"I need to go back..." The voice was gravely, hoarse and barely audible above the hum of the ancient window unit air conditioner in Diego's living room. The thing honestly sounded like it was fighting the oppressive, muggy heat outside and loosing, it even lurched once or twice an hour like it might die on the spot. "Go back...? To the fucking mothership are you for real?" Diego shouted, spit flying from his perfect red lips. Great. The GQ jock was pissed off now. "D... Just give me a chance to talk?" A moment of tense silence followed, his deep brown eyes bore into mine and nothing in the room moved or made a sound, with the exception of the AC of course. "Start making sense before I knock your skull in." He growled out, his voice dropping down to the deep graveling baritone I was used to, but his posture didn't change, it shouted menace with every breath he took.

"It's not forever, but my mom's sick dude... like for real sick and I don't want her to be alone. But I can't tell Ethan. He'd never let me go back there, not after what happened." A sigh whooshed from my friend and I jumped a little bit, my voice could have been stronger, my eyes more convincing, but I wasn't even sure that I wanted this. "I can't let you do that Dane, it's suicide. I know you've had your fun with the Emo fad but this is like stock-broker-building-jumper just-lost-the-love-of-your-life type drastic." I figured of all people that Diego would understand, I mean hell why else would I be locked inside a one bedroom apartment with testosterone in it's purist, straightest form for over an hour watching baseball? I needed direction and I was hoping he would provide it. "I have to do this dude, you know what its like..." A flinch, barely more than a shift to anyone but me, was his only reaction for a moment. Then the real change came, a shift in his eyes, a flinch back from reality, like there was something he wanted to block out but couldn't. "Your the only one I talk to about her Dane, and I'm sorry but no, I don't understand. My mom was a lady, your mom sold your ass for crack." He winced after he spoke, like he was already regretting what he'd said.

My throat started to close over, my chest got a little tighter... in reality I guess it was the start of a panic attack but it just felt like falling on the ground and getting the wind knocked out of you. "No." I muttered, drawing my legs up under my ass and curling into my side of the couch. "Fuck bro, I didn't mean it like that. I just, that's why you shouldn't go back. Katie's out of there, you told me what went on... hell they even killed the pup. And she let it happen." I flinched this time, and not a silent almost flinch, a real 'knee-jerk whimper with the head down' kind of thing. I knew Diego was right, that I had no reason to go to my mom's side when she really had, quite literally sold my virgin ass for cocaine. I must not have been in my right mind at all that day, because the next thing I did was just nuts. My fist came from my side as D was leaning over me to look at my face or something, and my steely, bony knuckles came crashing into his strong, relatively sexy (if you like the whole brooding thing) jaw. The crack was loud, his grunt even louder, and the look on his face went from concern and confusion to pure pissed off rage.

Maybe I havn't said so before, but when Diego gets mad its rather like a train coming down the tracks at sixty miles an hour... it doesn't stop by pure force of will, someone has to stop it. His thick football body covered mine in an instant, his left fist raining down on first my stomach and then my chest like a hammer. I put out my own strong hands and shoved at his shoulders, making "Umph" or yelping with each blow depending on how much it hurt. I made contact again with his face, this time between his hairline and eyebrow but that just pissed him off even more. Then next thing to hit me was his elbow, straight in my gut. "No!" I yelled, it felt like the train had just come down on me. "Fuck you Dane, fuck you and the fact that you can't deal with the god damn truth for what it is! You need a reality check and that's what I'm gonna give you. You think life with Ethan's nothing, you take it for granted. I guess you just cant remember what it was like at your moms, with her always coked out and you having to hide it from your sis. Her bringing home dudes for money, home with you and your sister sleeping right across the hall! And it's not like she was doing it to put bread on the table, she was doing it for the drugs. Maybe you just don't remember that night, you know, the night you almost got RAPED!" The last word was screamed, no, bellowed, into my ear. He was right above me now, with both my wrists held in his hands and my knees drawn up to my gut... the pain in my stomach was still rolling over me and so was the pain from his words.

"Is that it? Did you just forget about those two men, do I need to remind you? You're always bitching about how Ethan wont put out for you until after your birthday, is that how bad you want cock? Want him? Bad enough to forget about what you've been through? Or maybe you just don't care, huh?" I'm not even sure that Diego knew what he was saying by this time because the fight was about my mom not Ethan... but D was like that some times, making one thing about another till everything was laid out on the table. He twisted one of my arms out in front of me, and the other he shoved under my back, somehow tipping us both over onto the floor between the coffee table and the couch with me on my stomach. He ground a knee down into my back, forcing a yelp of pain from me. "Stop D! Get off, stop, I'm sorry!" I said, my voice getting higher and a little frantic because he'd moved my hands around, he was holding both of them down with just one of his own. His other hand was on the back of my neck, his fingernails digging into my skin and dragging down. "Maybe you don't remember what they almost did, maybe you don't realize the situation she put you in Dane. Is any of this familiar, does this ring a bell?" He asked, the last part growled low against the back of my neck as his free hand dove from my neck to my waist, he was jerking down my pants. That's when I freaked, realized what he might be doing. "NO! Diego stop! No!" The same fear came back to me, the same exact emotions I'd had when the two beefy losers had been over my body trying to fuck me in my livingroom.

He'd actually pulled my pants and boxers down by now and the words came back to me, the words one of the men had muttered as the other was undoing his belt. 'Stay where you are kid, the less you struggle the less this will hurt. But I wont lie, it's gonna hurt worse than anything else you have ever felt.' Tears started to roll down my cheeks and I stopped bucking under Diego, I could feel one of his hands on my side, the other still grasping my wrists painfully. I knew he still had his pants on, hell I knew D was straight, but I could feel his heat on my back, the AC against my bare backside, and more than anything I could feel the fear I'd felt when this had happened before. "You remember now Dane?" He asked, I could almost hear compassion, pleading in his voice but I couldn't respond, I was remembering the end of it, the moments right before it would have happened. I guess the silence wasn't a good enough answer for my best friend because the next thing I felt was his fingers, warm and strong sliding over my ass and down my crack... not skimming over it but pushing against my tail bone and then lower. It felt like my skin would burn with the pure friction from the force he was applying, tears were rolling down my cheeks and I'll admit it, I sobbed. "Don't, don't D. Please, I remember." His fingers let up the pressure but ventured a bit farther, almost grazing my hole. My tight abs tightened up even more and I felt like I might be sick but he stopped, he pulled both hands back and quickly as it had started it was over. I was crushed against his chest in the tightest bear hug of my life, shaking and sobbing and yes, with my pants still around my knees.

"I'm sorry Dane, I wasn't going to do anything... But I had to scare you, had to make you remember." He muttered into my hair, which was I'm sure, irreversibly destroyed by our struggle, more of a flop-hawk than a mohawk. I tried to push away, just a little bit because I was still shaking and crying but he wouldn't let me. Diego just pinned me even more tightly against his body. "I wasn't going to do anything Dane, I promise." And I would have believed him, I did believe him, but for one thing... "Your hard D." I whispered as I tried yet again to seperate our overheated bodies. I was expecting him to let go, to be freaked out or deny it, shove me away and tell me to leave... but we all know by now that I'm dense, real fucking dense. "I know, you do that to me sometimes. I guess it's because if I WAS going to do something with a dude, it would be you. And I know this is a crappy time to perve out on your ass, but it was right there in front of me, under my hands, hell IN my hands." He wasn't helping, he'd liked what he was doing... even though it had scared the crap out of me and I'd been saying 'no'. I looked up at him with what I assume were frightened eyes and he sighed "Not because I thought I could really take you, but because I know I wouldn't do that. Because I know the first dude you do it with isn't going to be someone forcing you. Thats what I was trying to scare into you dude." He made almost no sense, but that's what made me understand him. I relaxed my body against his and let him pull up my pants, shivering a little at the feel of his work roughened hands against my bare skin, and this time not because I was scared but because I kind of liked it.

I didn't know where to go from here, my stomach was still tied up in knots, I was still sweating and shivering, and the sick twisted images of that night were still fresh in my head. My best friend had admitted that he might have the hots for me after all, he'd made me realize that I'd been avoiding reality, that I hadn't allowed myself to admit what had almost happened. And worst of all, I was willing to go back to the bitch who sold me just because of some weird notion that I owed her something, that because I was her son I was supposed to take care of her while she died. But it made sense that I couldn't help, it made sense that I shouldn't go back, hell it even made sense that D completely flipped out on me when I even suggested it. And like I said, he should have been the one to understand it the most. I guess I had a look on my face, I knew I was frowning, because one of the football jocks hands came up to my shoulder, and with a really queit tone, he said "Hey looser, come back." We told each other to 'come back' a lot when the other was lost deep in thought, and he just made a habit of calling me looser. "Sorry dick-wad. But D... Don't I have to do something?" I was almost scared he was going to come flying at me again with his fists, and I cringed because my stomach really did hurt, damn his elbow anyways. "Dane... Look, your mom is sick, but she's sick in the head too. If you go back, something fucked up is going to happen to you. Now that she knows for sure she can get drugs off of you, she'll try again. Just like... tell yourself that you would have helped the mom you had when you were a kid, cause, she was a lady. This woman, shes not even human." Why did he have to be a damned philosopher sometimes?

Instead of answering him, because I wasn't completely convinced, I raised my shirt up to look down at the place where he'd hit me the hardest. He looked too, and grimaced at what we saw, deep red was turning to deep purple even as we watched. The entire area above my belly-button and to the right was filling up with blood, it was hot and puffy and gross, and it kind of pissed me off that he'd hit me that hard. I guess it pissed him off too because he growled at himself and frowned deeply. "D, I didn't mean to hit you that hard. I mean... you were being an idiot." Great, now he was blaming me for this, thats right, I just jumped up and fucking walked into his elbow! I didn't mean to, but I glared when I looked up at him, thinking the things I was, I'm sure it was a pretty nasty look to be on the other end of, too. "No, I mean. I shouldn't have done it but I had to!" There was no pause, all his words came out in a rush of heat and nervousness. When I didn't say anything, but reached up and touched it softly, wincing and drawing his hand away quickly, he scooted closer to me on the floor and leaned in. He lifted up my shirt, which sent little electric sparks through my body, and took a closer look at the bruise. His hot breath was only inches away from my lap, and I could feel it on my stomach, right above my crotch. His hand rested up on my shoulder, with my shirt caught up in his fingers, so my whole torso was showing, and so were my hard, pink nipples. I was getting majorly turned on by this hot jock being so close to me, even if I was still mad, or maybe BECAUSE I was still mad.

"Will a kiss make it better?" Diego liked to joke sometimes, about stuff like that, about marrying me and having my kids, so I just shrugged and laughed lightly, trying to hide my arousal. He leaned in then, as if spurred by my reaction, and kissed the bruised area, at the lowest point, right above the waist band of my slow-slung jeans. I flinched when he did it, like the same sort of flinch you get when someone touches right above your crotch when your horny and not expecting them to. He didn't move away when I thought he would, he kept his lips on my stomach and didn't look up at me, though he did put a hand on my thigh so that I couldn't move away. I wouldn't chance ruining whatever kind of moment this was, so I stayed still for as long as I could, even though I started shivering. He kept his lips on my body, moving them a little to renew the kiss, I got nervous and moved a hand to the top of his head, where my fingers tangled up in his dark brown hair. I was confused by what he was doing, so idiotically, I said "D, what are you doing?" He flinched then, and brought his head away. My hand dropped down into my lap as I let him move back, and he looked down at the ground instead of up to my eyes when he said "Hey, I was just trying to make you feel better!" A devilish grin crossed my features, I got an idea. "If you really wanted to make me feel better, you'd give me a REAL kiss." I knew he wouldn't do it, but damn if I didn't want him to, I'd wanted to kiss those pouty lips since the first day I'd lain eyes on him. "So if I kiss you, you wont pout about me slugging you?" He replied, a hint of nervousness and... excitement? in his voice. "I won't bitch about you slugging me, but I'm still gonna tell Jen about you pulling my pants down!" I laughed as I said it, because it wasn't really a huge deal to me anymore, I'd needed the kick in the ass.

"Awwe you asshole! Fine, no kiss. I don't care how much you pout." Damn, ruined my chances on that one, but I'd never expected him to actually kiss me in the first place, so I guess I wasn't missing out on too much. "Hah, D, you'll be fine. But... well actually... Jen MIGHT kill you for humping my ass." I watched his expression as I spoke, I wanted to see how he reacted to my blatant naming of exactly what he had done with me on the floor. His lips curved up a bit and he rolled his eyes, though there was a bit of a menacing glint to them that made me worry. "You little shit, you can't tell her man, she'll think I'm a queer too!" So, he thought that one encounter defined your sexuality? Man this dude needed a lesson, but to hell if you think I'd be the one to give it to him! "No she wouldn't, she'd just be mad at you for freaking me out, asshole!" I replied, scooting away from him quickly so that he couldn't slap me, which, as expected, he tried to do only seconds later. His open fisted swat sailed before my bruised chest without coming close to making contact, though I still felt the breeze the movement stirred up against my body. I was still trying to get a hold on all of this, and failing miserably in the process. D was kissing my body, talking sweet, had pinned me down on the floor, scared the shit out of me... and was now begging me not to tell our girlfriend what he'd done because he was scared of being pegged as gay... and of course scared of being beaten into a pulp by her as well. But at least now I knew that I wouldn't be going back to my mother. I had no answers for the rest of the situation, but the awkwardness was taken out of the air as quickly as it came. "Lets get high..." Diego muttered as he stood, walking to the coffee table in the middle of his living room floor.

I grinned a little, ok, scratch that... I grinned a LOT as I saw him fish a small silver box out from under the table, the box and its content were familiar to me, had been for years. I know guys, I know, Ethan asked me not to... but he didn't TELL me not to. Diego crossed the small space between his coffee table and his couch and sat down, patting the spot next to him in invitation for me to join. Now that I was working, I had a little bit of money, so as custom would have it, as he pulled a small plastic Zip-Lock bag out of the silver box and poured a portion of the sticky green content onto the table, I threw down a five dollar bill in payment for the bowls I would help him smoke. He stemmed and seeded the weed quickly, breaking the leaves into a fine state, almost powdery in its consistency... He takes for fucking ever to break up a bowl, I swear. He loaded a glass pipe, blown into the shape of a wolf's head, with the bowl resting on the top of it's head, and fished a lighter out of his pocket. After taking his first hit, the acrid smell of marijuana smoke slipped from his lips and filled the air. He coughed a little, as always on his first hit, and passed the thing over to me. Not ten minutes later, the bowl cashed out in his mouth and he spit and coughed to get the nasty taste and the stale smoke to go away. I chuckled softly at him, feeling happily warm ad content because of the drug's affect on my senses. He was relaxed, practically half melted into the plush cushions of the couch as he watched me play with a loose thread coming from the hole in the knee of my jeans. D was one of those guys, who, when he smoked, stupid things became interesting to. He could literally watch cars drive past his apartment for an hour before he came down off his high and went back to normal. I was exactly the opposite, because I'm manic I think. (See chapter 5) I got excitable and jittery, I wanted to get up and move, or write, or have sex, weed made us both horny and being high, I always wondered if I could seduce him into fucking me. But this time, having shared only a single bowl with the GQ Jock, I had enough sense to know that it wouldn't work, so I didn't even try.

We sat around for a while and watched the shadows on the walls, I decided to braid a few of Diego's longer hairs, the ones on the back of his head, and shot the shit until my cell phone rang. " 'Ello?" I muttered, my eyes half closed and my breathing slow and steady. Apparently Ethan didn't notice any difference in me, because he sounded chipper as he said "Hey, I know your hanging out with Diego and all, but I got off work early, and I wanted to know if you wanted to go catch a movie. Hell, you can bring shit-head along if you want." I chuckled at the way he referred to my best friend, and at the fact that he was so fucking caring. I smiled at D, and without thinking to cover the reciever on my phone, asked "Hey, cop-stud wants to know if we wanna go to a movie? You can only come if you promise not to gross out if I make a move on him." He grimaced playfully, sticking his tongue out and pretending to gag in repulse, but nodded his head and said "What are we seeing? I swear, if you drag me to a chick flick, I'll yack." I laughed again, D was such a fucking stereotypist when it came to homos. "Sure Ethan, what are we gonna see?" I spoke into the phone as he thought, and I could hear his keyboard clacking away, he must have been looking up movie times. "Hmm Oceans 13 sound good to anyone?" Diego heard him, and we both said "YES!" enthusiastically. I finished up my conversation and we left the appartment. I was still too high to realize that I wreaked of pot smoke, so when we pulled up outside the movie theater, right next to Ethan's patrol car, which he was leaning against, I didn't feel the need to fear him or his reaction to my huge grin.

I slammed the door shut, his first clue that I was a little out of sorts, remember, my Mustang is my baby, and vaulted over the front of the car, one hand on the hood, then landed on my feet on the other side. "Hey kid, hey shit-head." The blond cop muttered as he watched Diego scoot out of the car and onto two rather unsteady feet. "Hey pig!" Diego answered him, not missing a beat even in his stoned state of mind, a small smile on his face. Eath rolled his eyes at that, and waited for my reply, instead of talking though, I sauntered straight up to him and wrapped my arms around his stiff torso in a hug. "I missed you." I muttered, burying my nose in his chest and breathing in the smells of his laundry detergent, his chest underneath the tight black shirt, and his deodorant. Sober I was a cuddly guy, and mix me with some Mary-Jane, I wont fucking leave the hip of the person I'm with. But that aside, Ethan must have been smelling me at the same time I smelled him, because even though his arms wrapped around me tightly, there was no warmth to the embrace, and no return of my gentle comment. I stepped back slowly, realizing that something had changed. "Uhhh Eath?" He was glairing he let me go easily, I took another step back, the veins in his neck were standing out, my muscles tensed, he cleared his throat and his eyes narrowed even more, I shifted in place and put a hand against the cool metal of my hot ride. "You smell like pot." It was a simple statement, one that lacked conviction or tone, devoid of caring or interest, it seamed cold and far away. The first thing I wanted to do was turn my head quickly and catch the eyes of my friend, but for some reason, Ethan's cold, hard eyes wouldn't allow mine to leave them, not even to blink. "E-Eath... I mean... well yeah. We were, I mean, we got high... I did that stuff all the time before, I know you asked me not to... But if I wanna quit... I mean, when I do... I mean..." He sighed, ran a hand through his short, perfectly gelled, blond hair and broke the vice-like contact of our eyes by looking at the ground. " Are you still stoned?" Shit fuck, he was mad.

"Kinda' I guess. Only a tiny bit though, like, it'll go away in just a few minutes." I replied, not even bother to try and defend myself. He still seamed mad, his jaw was still clenched, his fists tight by his sides, but more than that, I noticed his eyes again. Deep, emerald green had faded to something deeper, blacker, something you would find at the bottom of an abandoned pond in the middle of a long forgotten forest or whatever. I guess he looked... hurt. "Eath, we smoked before you called, its not like I knew I'd be seeing you. I just forgot that you wouldn't like it. I've never had to hide it before." A horrible excuse, I get that, because I wasn't saying I was sorry I'd done it, or that I wouldn't do it again, only that I was sorry for the way he felt about it. And I know he didn't miss that either, because he frowned again. If what Ethan and I were doing could be called dating, then I was the worst boyfriend in the world right now. Actually, I hadn't even started to be a good boyfriend, I hadn't once tried to romance him, I'd just tried to get into his pants, take what he gave me... lived off of him... god damn. I started feeling really shitty as I thought, my buzz started fading the minute I started thinking seriously, and I'm sure that the cop noticed it because his body softened a bit. I didn't know where to go from here, what to do or say, so I just waited for the man before me to decide how he wanted to react, what he wanted to do to me, in retrospect, that was a shitty idea.

He dug into his back pocket, fished out his wallet and stuck a twenty dollar bill in my face. I glanced at it, arched an eyebrow, and looked back up at him. "I don't want to be near you right now Dane, just, go see a movie with stoner-boy here, and come home when you feel like it." His voice was cold, calm, razor sharp. Ouch. At first his comment didn't affect me, going to the movies with Diego was always fun, but then my brain registered the loss of Ethan, my boyfriend, he didn't want to be around me... I reached up, and instead of taking the twenty, I knocked his hand away, another shitty idea. "Fine, whatever, do what you want. Ditch me, but I have my own cash. I don't need yours." My voice was low, sharp, and quick, tinged with the pain I felt inside, and the anger for how he was treating me. I guess at that point I just wasn't used to owning up for my mistakes. My friends weren't the type to get mad when I fucked up, and of course we all know my mom didn't give a shit what I did as long as I stayed out of her way. Ethan was in effect, telling me no, when I wasn't used to being told no, and I, in effect, was throwing a tantrum because of it. "Your a prick Dane." Was all he muttered, as though he couldn't give a fuck less what I'd said. He turned his back on me then, and inside I flinched, inside I started to cry. On the outside though, I just got mad, he was nothing but a cop to me in that moment, the law, rules that I hated and dismissed. He walked back to his car, and on the inside my heart ached for the fight we were having, and the way we were acting, but on the outside I just smirked, and as he drove off, I flipped him the bird, waving it around and laughing because I was getting away with it.

After he was gone though, the angry red tail-lights of his Crown Victoria (AKA cop car) had vanished beyond my vision, I slumped against my car, all energy gone from my body with the loss of adrenaline. "That was fucked up." Diego said quietly, behind me and to the left. I turned to him a little and said "I know, he's such a prick." My voice lacked the conviction that it should have held, and there was a good reason, Diego said "I wasn't talking about Ethan you shit-head. You hurt cop-man's feelings and chased him off. Your a jerk." What? The? Fuck? Did my best friend just side with my boyfriend, did a stoner just side with a pig, was I freaking Alice and this was Wonderland? I guess all those thoughts were pretty plain on my face, because he just shook his head and laughed, a hollow, sorry laugh without a smile. "Take me home man, then go deal with yourself." The Latin stud mumbled, watching a pool of oil on the ground shift in the dim lights of the parking lot. My mind short-circuited then, whether it was too much smoke, too much drama, or too much... well something else, I don't know, but I do know that I had no idea how to deal with what was going on around me. "W-what?" I stuttered. "I hate to sound like the cop here, but seriously, I don't want to deal with you right now. Ethan's good for you, be good to him." I was still completely out of it, what Diego said was barely processing, I think my body went into autopilot. "Fine, get in." I didn't even have the heart to call him an asshole or refuse him a ride home, I was being ditched by both of them, the only two guys in my life right now. We got back into the car, and my speakers were all the way up, commercials blared in our ears, but I didn't notice, didn't turn it down... plus Ozzy started playing a few minutes later so I guess it didn't matter. I don't remember the drive back to Diego's house, but I do remember that for the first time in a long time, I didn't stick around after I dropped him off to watch his ass as he went to the door. I just grabbed my cell phone, turned it off, and blitzed the fuck off into the night, leaving the sound of a burn-out and the smell of hot rubber in my wake.

I don't remember driving to the coast either, but thirty minutes later I was parked somewhere on the side of the river, staring out at the cool water, sitting on the hood of my car. My hands kept finding there way though my hair, pulling small tangles apart and gliding over the space where my hair was shortest, all around the longer stuff, creating my Mohawk, which once again, was down. Where my hair was shortest, my skull felt vulnerable, my skin so thin that the slightest pressure would force right through it, right through bone, and end my life. I could feel my pulse points at my temples, and I realized that I just wanted to stop thinking. I shoved myself off the hood of my Mustang and walked slowly to the back hatch, which I opened up with the keys dangling loosely from my fingers. I pulled out a fifth of Vodka that I keep around just in case, and returned to the front of the car to drown my sorrows. About halfway through the bottle of harsh liquor, I started thinking about the night again, about Ethan and how shitty I'd felt when he turned his back on me. About the same feelings coming up when Diego had told me to take him home. I'd been a dick tonight, but they just didn't get it, they didn't understand me or how I felt. Five swallows later and my body was begging me to stop drinking, I didn't binge often, on alcohol at least, and right now, my head was swimming, my ears were ringing, and everything was getting damned funny. As I started to laugh, more of a choking sob than a laugh really, my stomach churned and I puked, puked pure alcohol right off the hood of my car. The burn and disgusting flavor in my mouth turned the awkward laughter into full on sobbing, I dropped the bottle, barely registering the sound of thick glass cracking on cold rock, and bawled like a baby. I wrapped my arms around myself and just let it all out, for the first time since that day at my mom's, I was completely alone with nothing but my thoughts and my car, and the vodka of course.

My legs gave out and I couldn't keep my position on the hood of the car anymore, I slid off clumsily and continued to cry as my ass hit the gravel, luckily somewhere other than in the puke or on the broken glass. It was getting hard to breath as I sobbed and gasped for air, I was drown in sorrow and alcohol, and damned lucky that no one else war around. In the console of my car, my phone was ringing, flashing blue light but devoid of sound because I'd turned the ringer off. The name that flashed across the display was 'Cop Stud' Ethan was trying to get a hold of me, but even if I'd had the ringer on, I wouldn't have heard it over my pituful sobs. When my throat really started to hurt, was when I realized that I needed to calm myself down a little bit, but every time I stopped the sobs, I would see the faces of the bastards my mom had brought on me, or the blood coating my hands from my dead dog, or Ethan's back as he got into his car. It probably took an hour for me to finally fall completely silent and stop shaking, but when I did, I was calm. Everything seamed to move at a slower pace, I knew I was still drunk, but I also knew that I had finally allowed myself to deal with some of the demons inside my mind. I'd finally faced a bit of what kept me from really accepting the way my life was now. I stood up on a set of shaky legs and got into my car, the interior felt warmer than the outside year, fall was coming on fast. Nothing caught my eye for a moment, until my phone started to ring again, and flash blue. I picked it up, and through drunk eyes, read the name flashing before me, Ethan again. "I'm sorry." Was the first thing I said when I flipped it open. A silence followed my words, drawn out until Ethan finally had to breath again, it sounded more like a gasp, or a sigh, I couldn't tell. "Where are you?" Damn, he was still mad, my voice was still rough from crying, puking, and drinking, but I answered softly. "By the river, I needed to think. Can you pick me up, or like... have someone pick me up?" He didn't even ask why I couldn't drive myself home, he probably didn't want to know. "I'll be there." He said, hanging up before I could respond, he was definitely still pissed off.