Intoxicated

Chapter Ten

The air fades black all around me. I make my way home, the street lamps emitting a warm, white light. The cold sends goosebumps scurrying all over my arms. My shoulders curl against it as I walk, hands buried deep into my pockets. As always. It's warm, and I don't know what else I'm supposed to do with my hands. Having them swinging at my sides or folded doesn't feel right. 

Nothing really feels right. After today, I should be sad. Angry. Something. I mean, I got shoved around by Jace, visited my dead best friend's parents, and ran into Sadie. All of that, and the only thing I feel is numb. Uncomfortably numb. 

I should feel something, but I don't. Nothing big enough to wake my nerves up. 

My breath turns into mist as I blow it out, seeing my house come into view. Dad's car is there. Hopefully he isn't mad at me for being late or anything. I could've texted him - should've, really. Not a great way to start off when I tell him I agreed to adopt a dog. And that Alex's parents are coming over tomorrow to drop him off.

I should probably invite them to dinner or something. It feels like the polite thing to do. They said I could visit them whenever, and that I was free to go through Alex's things to take. I plan on doing just that - tonight didn't seem like the right time, though. They've definitely changed - not as bright and perky, more gloomy and on edge.

Can't blame them. 

My shoulders drop a little when I reach my house, approaching the front door. Dad won't be mad, I think. He's never mad at me anymore. He probably feels too bad to be. 

It's probably locked. I turn the knob. It creaks open, revealing a fuzzy black room. Why aren't the lights on? Cautiously, I step inside, squinting. "Dad?" I call, feeling for the switch along the wall. I flick it on as I lock the door.

The entire room lights up. I grimace, and then my entire face falls. "Dad," my voice tremors along with my hands as I see him sprawled on the couch, an empty bottle of god knows what on the floor. I drop to my knees beside him, gripping his shoulders. "Dad, wake up." 

God, what was he thinking? I shake him gently, choking back the lump in my throat. He lets out a groan, his eyes lifting a little. 

"Huh?" he mumbles, shimmying his head up against the arm of the couch. "What..." but his eyes are closed, words thick and slurred.

Guilt swells up inside of me. I shouldn't have left. "Come on," I urge him, slinging his arm around my shoulder, which already caves against his weight. "Let's get you to bed."

It might've been easier to grab a blanket and leave him on the couch, but I don't want his back problems to get any worse. Or him. Grunting with effort, I haul him up the stairs, my arm muscles practically quaking as I set him down on the bed. More of a drop, if I'm being honest. I roll my aching shoulders back. I need to do push-ups or something, jeez.

Exhaling heavily, I hoist up the blanket and tuck his legs under, pulling the rest up his torso. I can't believe I just carried a grown man into bed. My Dad. Not like it's the first time. Although, I can't be too weak if I managed that. 

I look down at his worn, creased face. Even in sleep, he looks pained. We'll have to talk about it - and about Alex's parents. Not to mention the dog. I bite down on my lip at the thought. Tomorrow's problem, I decide as I leave, closing the door only a bit before heading downstairs. A hollow growl comes from my stomach. I can't tell whether it's that Dad's relapsed or hunger. Both make my gut unsettled. 

Time to eat, sleep and then... repeat.

Thunder rumbles like a beast's empty belly, or mine - with dark clouds devouring the sky. School has never felt more like a prison. No one comes here by choice, and certainly no one wants to be here. We're all here for crimes we didn't commit - underage or unprotected sex. Although, maybe some are guilty.

I cringe at the thought. "Just one more day," I mutter under my breath as I enter the building. The draft follows me through the door. It's only getting colder - which I don't mind. I don't like the sun all that much.

Or people. Thankfully, the hallway is empty. It's no surprise - I rushed out of the house early. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up to my hungover, possibly pissed Dad. Not in the sense that he'd be drunk. Again. I left a painkiller and a glass of water on his bedside table, but that's it. What else can I do? I don't know the first thing about dealing with alcoholics, other than it's not as ostentatious or romanticised as movies make it out to be. 

It's a coping mechanism, an addiction. Something that needs to be treated. Except, he doesn't want to. It's whatever - I just hope he's sobered up enough for when Alex's parents come by to drop off Nugget. Or maybe he'd be better not so sober. I still haven't told him. 

No going back now, I think as I open up my locker and take out a few books. The metallic screech pierces the silence as I force it shut. It's weird everything being this quiet. Empty.I start to walk around aimlessly, glancing over my shoulder like someone is going to spring on me. No one would - except Jace, of course. 

Everyone else acts like I'm a ghost. I'm either not there or the only thing they'll do is stare.

I slow to a stop as I reach the end of the hall, my gaze landing where Alex's locker used to be. After the incident, people covered it in flowers, photos and sticky notes. I didn't see it - too busy huddling in the corner of my room or sitting silently at the counsellor's office for months. Forgot how many. But photos of the decorated locker were all over Instagram. 

#inmemoryofalex #ripalexreagan

 It's plain now, obviously - no trace he was ever here. It feels that way sometimes. But how could I forget someone who gave me so much to remember? Even if I can't. 

Or won't.