3rd person
It was awkward. Everything has happened to Trista too quickly. She wouldn't say she was in a committed relationship with the one who talks about his weenie, but she wouldn't say that she wasn't.
What about her long lost brother? Was this all but a dream? Trista was confused with all of it. Now she was best friends with the band, Hollywood Undead, just because of a little tiny incident from a party that they were all in.
She thought about this for the next hour as she stared at the ceiling. Trista was awake, and she was alive. This was reality.
Trista didn't know how she felt with Jordon. He was different, not a normal typical guy who you would meet. Jordon was sweet, caring, and loving. The guy from the band that was always known for trying to get into ladies' pants was just a whole different person from that.
There was something more about Charles, though. It wasn't the sweetness, the cuteness, or even the drunkness; it was just something. Trista Couldn't quite put her finger on it.
There was a light knock on her front door to the house. Trista didn't know who it was, but while she tugged some pants on George stood outside.
It was raining once again. It rained the previous night, and was also greeted with thunder and lightning. Maybe that was why he had slept in. It was now noon, but George had woke up 2 hours ago at 10. The cold substance hit his nose and tricked down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away. George really disliked the rain. Just standing in it made him feel.. Uncomfortable.
Maybe it was because on these days, he'd find Jorel stuck in the bathroom, sliding a blade across his wrist as the rain poured down. He'd always lock himself in it, or try, but Johnny always found away in. It was terrible, the water in the sink red, as if the blood was a kind of food coloring.
Luckily, he'd gotten better. Johnny 3 Tears was proud of him. He had a fiancé, and he had actually covered up his cut tattoos. George smiled at the thought. Now it was his time to clean himself up just a little.
His problem; well, it was with cocaine.
Johnny's smile soon faded away. The high was amazing. Once it kicked in, it made him hyper, and feel like he could stay up all night and all day. He felt like he could run laps around his house, maybe even jump to the moon.
It was wonderful.
Then, there was his precious, innocent girl. Even though he was rarely high off Coke around her, George knew that it was a terrible thing to do. It's not like he could just stop snorting it. It's an addiction that is complicated to get rid of. Maybe the things would get better. Maybe then his daughter would have a little hope.
After ruffling his hair up, feeling his wet hair, the door opened. Trista yawned, then stretched. Johnny smiled.
"What's up, bro?" She stretched as George walked into her house, then closed the door.
"Nothing, I just need help." Johnny sat down on her couch, as if it was his home. Trista didn't really care. After finding out that he was her brother, he could do anything in front of her. She wouldn't even really care.
She raked her fingers through her tangled hair. Trista stared at her brother, wondering what he needed help with. Trista has only known that he was her sibling for 2 weeks now, but they acted like they had known each other forever. The way George's eyes looked into Trista's made it seem like a big deal.
He really needed help.
"It's the cocaine." Johnny slumped over, putting his hands to his face. He sighed deeply, his right foot tapping the ground.
