Cigarette Smoke // FILLIE

Life Of A Fück Up

f i n n

       Alright, I admit- I fucked it up way sooner than I meant to. Of course, I always intended to make Millie dislike me slightly at the end of this deal just to make our parting easier, but not hate me a week before.

"Things didn't go well, huh? You tried tongue, is that what it was?" Jack questions through a devilish grin after Millie stormed out the closet. I grab my coat from the floor as I glare up at him.

I push past him emotionlessly, not giving a single care as to what his dumbass has to say to me. Fuck it, she hates me- going after her will just make it worse.

So with that thought compressed in my mind, I head straight to the kitchen fridge and pull out three glass bottles of Budweiser beer.

I hold the three bottles in between my fingers as I merge through the crowd of players waiting to be picked to be out in the closet, and outside the same sliding door to Jack's backyard, where Millie and I sat only a few days ago.

I breath in the fresh cold, crisp night air that fills my damaged lungs and clear my scrambled mind.

I set down two of the bottles near my feet as I then effortlessly crack open the first bottle using my shirt, a skill I've developed over the years of getting David his favorite beverage. Jackass drunk.. he'll die faster than a fruit fly with his habits.

I brush off the thought as the alcohol is brought to my lips while I tilt my head back.

I close my eyes and allow myself to let the smooth liquid run down my throat like a waterfall.

My brows furrow slightly as I find the bottle drip it's lasting substance on my tongue, indicating that it's empty.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath as I wipe the back of my hand across my lips, gasping for a breath of fresh air.

I set down the newly empty one and repeat the same process over, and over until all three bottles lay unoccupied on the cement ground.

Look at you, drinking some jackass' beer all because you can't handle the fuck up that you are- because you can't accept the fact that you've started falling in love with a British beauty who now hates you.

I clench my jaw, swallowing down my feelings as I take a glass bottle and chuck it across the patio at the large brick wall, the brown-colored glass shattering at the contact.

Finding a sense of satisfaction at the sight, I do the same with the remaining two. By the time the last shards topple to the ground silent tears are rolling down my face in self hate and regret.

Worthless. Addict. Fuck, you're no better than David. Just an angst teenager who thinks he's rebelling by doing exactly what every other fuck up does, until that phase passes and they marry some one-time hookup they don't even love- what a life that'll be, huh? Yeah.. what a life.

-+-

m i l l i e

      "It's okay, honey, you're home.. Mummy's here." My mothers gentle voice assures in a whisper as her hand moves over my forehead through my hair carefully.