"How late are you going to be?" My father asked, his voice echoing down the empty hall coming from his study.

"Not sure." I replied, coming off more rude than intended. But I wasn't going to waste my time apologizing for it either.

"Be home at a decent time please." He requested, exiting his study and watching me from down the hall.

I mumbled something unintelligible as I put my shoes on and swung my bag over my shoulder. He knew I wasn't going to be home at a decent time, or in a decent condition. Hell, he'd be lucky if I even made it home at all.

"Have a good game." He called, a sad smile crossing his chapped lips as I slammed the front door shut without answering. I heaved a sigh collapsing in to the driver's seat of my hummer.

When did this get this fucking complicated? I cringed knowing how disappointed my mother would be right now. She wouldn't stand for this. And neither would Kholton. They'd be disappointed in the both of us. But it doesn't matter what they would think, because they're dead. And dead people don't have feelings or thoughts.

Wouldn't that be nice? To never have to feel anything. Never have to worry, never have to think about anything, never have to do anything. Wouldn't it be nice to be dead?

No. I could feel the same way without being dead. I might not have much to live for. But I still have a few things. Alcohol was my version of being dead. I didn't feel anything when I was drunk. Except for hunger and sometimes horniness. But mostly just hunger.

Pulling out on to the freeway, I pushed away everything that was fluttering in my mind and turned up the volume on the radio.

###

I rested my hands on my thighs, being over and trying to catch my breath. God that was a hard hit I took. But I tried my best not to show how it affected me.

"Cummings!" Coach yelled, gathering my attention. "Let's go." He motioned for me to get off the field.

I quickly noticed that The defensive lineup was headed to the bench and the offense was going on to the field. I ran off, over to the bench, careful not to run too quickly and lose my breath again.

The cheerleaders stood over to the side of the bench, talking amongst themselves and watching the game. I knew they were most likely talking about the players and not the game. Some of the guys would be happy to know the girls were looking at them, others might be mad that they weren't paying attention to the game. It didn't bother me that most of the cheerleaders didn't understand football. I didn't really understand cheerleading, so why should they have to understand something that might not interest them?

I let out a small sigh. There I go again. Thinking too much. I can't wait until the after party, so I can get hammered and stop thinking so much.

Less than two hours later I was in my happy place again, guzzling some vodka straight from the bottle, standing in the corner of the party. Not everyone was here yet, but the people that were here, were already getting smashed.

I'm typically the kind of person to stands n the corner and watches, whereas drunk Caiden is way more outgoing. And apparently I was tipsy enough to go outside and talk with my teammates. I stood next to Kade, slipping in to the group practically unnoticed. 

"Yo, Cummings brought us drinks." Our quarterback laughed, eyeing the cheap vodka in my hand.

I smiled as the rest of guys chuckle, I pass him the drink and in turn, Kade passes me the joint they've been smoking. Listening to their conversation, I stayed quiet.

"Caiden?" Kade snapped his fingers in my face. "Ya there?"

"Huh? Yeah?" I replied, snapping back into reality.

"Did you get more ink?" One of the guys repeated.

I glanced down at my arm and nodded. "Yeah I got more added to the top. The stopwatch and more clouds."

"Looks sick bro." He complimented.

None of the guys knew what the meaning behind my sleeve was. Well, none of them except for Kent and Kade. Everyone else just thought it was this cool sleeve that I got just to piss my dad off. And I was content with letting them think that.

My vodka had leg since been drank and I was in the mood for something to get me seriously fucked. I left the backyard and headed back to the kitchen. A half empty bottle of Jack Daniels caught my eye. I popped the cap off and chugged the rest of it, cringing as it burned my throat.

It took a little bit for the alcohol to reach my bloodstream, but when it finally did, I felt fucking great. In the living room, through a sea of bodies I spotted Kent, talking to Ashlyn.

Aww, Kent's talking to his crush, how cute. I could tell why he liked her, she was sweet and really fucking hot. Like damn, I'd hit that shit if I could.

I stumbled over towards them, making Kent on the back. I felt like a proud dad, Kent was flirting with Ashlyn. Maybe I could help him get some. Ill offer him a ride and drop Ashlyn off at his place.

"Hey man." Kent smiled.

"I'm going home." I slurred, pulling my keys out of my pocket. "Need a ride?"

"Umm, I don't think you should be driving dude." Kent seemed hesitant.

He wasn't getting it. I was trying to help him out and he didn't get it.

"I'm fine." I waved him off.

"I'll drive you home." Ashlyn quickly cut in.

I stared at her, willing her to change her mind. or to get Kent to come with us. But he didn't get the hint.

"...Fine." I hesitantly agreed, dropping the car keys in her small hand.

Kent stared at the keys in her left hand and the drink in her right. I knew the look on his face. He wasn't worried about Ashlyn and I being alone together, he was worried about her. And she could tell.

"It's okay, I've only had like three sips." She explained.

Kent nodded, the worry washing away from his face. I was starting to get hungry, so I wanted to go home. I lead her through the crowd and out the front door. Slamming my hand down proudly on the hood of my car.

"This is it." I claimed, a smile across my face.

She unlocked the doors and I stumbled in to the passenger seat. She struggled to get in, her short frame just a little small to get in easily. But after a few tries she managed.

"Where do you live?" She asked, starting the engine.

"23 Queens Gate." I replied after a moment of thinking.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, and I stared out the window at the lights as we pulled out on to the freeway. This was one of my favourite things to do. Getting high and watching the city lights. One time Corbin McCreddie drove us all the way through Los Angeles. We got lost driving through the Calabasas mansion neighbourhoods, day dreaming about living in the multi-million dollar homes.

I heard the hum of the music grow and I spotted Ashlyn's hand on the volume dial. I guess she wasn't enjoying the silence as much as I was. Only a few minutes later she pulled in to my driveway.

Opening the door to get out, I told her she could just drive home and I'd pick it up later. Then I slammed the door and headed inside, straight for the fridge. God I was hungry. There was a few pieces of cold pizza, which I devoured in minutes.

"Caiden?" My father's voice called from behind me.

"Yeah?" I replied, my mouth full of pizza and the beer I had grabbed from the fridge as well.

"You're home early." He commented.

"Uh uh." I nodded, taking another swig.

"How much have you had to drink?" He cautiously asked, afraid that I might lash out.

"Half a bottle of Smirnoff and half a bottle of Jack Daniels," I looked at the drink in my hand. "And this." I explained, stumbling over a few of my words.

"Are you high too?" He continued.

"Just a little." I used my fingers to show the minimal amount of weed I'd smoked earlier. "Just a little bit of weed."

"Okay," He nodded. "Why don't you put the beer down and we can watch some TV for now?"

I furrowed my brows, considering the offer. It didn't sound all that bad. Dad wasn't mad at me, so I knew I wasn't in trouble. Taking one last look at my beer I left it on the counter and headed towards my dad.

"Sure..."

He took me to the living room, and we sat down on the couch. He turned on Sports Center and we watched the sports highlights. My eyelids felt heavy, and I laid down on couch, my long legs hanging off the end. As I started drifting off to sleep I could hear my dad mutter something.

"Sherry, what the hell am I supposed to do with this poor kid?"