Chapter 1: The Beginning

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Chapter 1: The Beginning

I know I'm cold hearted. I know I keep all my secrets between the bottle and me, but that's all I've ever known. I go out at night through the back door of my room. My back yard is huge, with a pool and a bunch of other things I couldn't care any less for. The only thing I like about the backyard is my tree house, but of course nobody knows that. Nobody knows that when I sneak out I just lay in that tree house that I have had since I was a kid and look up at the stars out the skylight. I helped my dad build it when I was nine. Who knew eight years later I would stash alcohol up there and drink alone in the middle of the night? I always go there at night when I wake up from nightmares, or can't sleep. It's pretty frequent that I'm up there. I don't remember the day I decided it was a good idea to drink away my problems, but I know I used to do it occasionally. Now it's getting more and more frequent. No, I'm not failing any of my classes and I'm a pretty smart person. I live my life like any normal person, but at night is when everything gets shitty. I'm seventeen and a senior in high school. In my junior year my father died. My father was my best friend, we could talk about anything.

The back of my throat burned as I tipped the bottle of Vodka into my mouth. Sometimes I end up sleeping in the tree house. My mom never notices because ever since my dad passed away she's been different. She's always away at work and doesn't like being home. She hates looking at me, but it's probably because I look like my father. Sometimes I hate looking at myself, too. I can see him in myself; we have the same facial features. I'm proud to look like him though. He had a prominent jawbone, hazel eyes, and dark brown hair. The only difference was my dad always kept his hair short. My hair is short, but not as short as his was.

My father is my hero. I would say he 'was' my hero, but he never stopped being my hero. I used to say I don't know what I'd do without him, but now I do know. Without him I drink to keep thoughts of him away. It only works for so long, the memories come back eventually. They always fucking do. I know drinking wouldn't make him proud, but I still keep up with everything that would make him proud. If he were still here I wouldn't be this cold. My 'family' wouldn't be this sad and distant. I still haven't accepted the fact that he's gone and quite frankly, I don't think I ever will. The memories of him will haunt me for the rest of my life. I remember the way he would give me an approving look and a thumb up when I did well in football. He taught me everything I need to know and yet I feel like there was two things I needed to know more than anything. I needed to know how to forgive myself that he's gone and mostly how to deal with him being gone. I wish I could make my mom feel better. I wish that my mom would make me feel better. I don't have one fucking person who is here for me. Nobody ever was here. My mom might care for me, but she can't look at me without feeling like shit. How do I deal with that, dad? How the fuck can I live with myself after all this? I haven't smiled in forever and I fucking hate it. I'm miserable and I just want you to come back.

I start drinking more and more until all those thoughts go away. I just need to be drunk and out of it. About thirty minutes later I was so drunk that I felt like I was going to knock out. I hid the bottle and passed out right there.

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Tell me what you thought and if I should continue the story. Hopefully you'll give it a chance because I have a ton of ideas for it. Comment and tell me what you think or how I can improve. It would mean a lot, thanks!

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