-miles-

the roof.

the roof.

the roof.

the roof.

that's what i tried to distract myself with when i made my way away from georgia and tried not to turn back. it felt like kicking a puppy, the way she looked at me. fighting the urge to run back and kiss her, tell her i didn't mean it, beg for forgiveness, that was run over by my thoughts of her being free from my bullshit. i thought about delilah's face when she'd accused me of cheating, her face when we had that argument, and her face right before she died.

i did that and that would be georgia if we got closer.

travis' threat was still playing on repeat in my head as i thought about how much i deserved it, i killed his sister. i fucking provoked it.

i'm such a fucking idiot.

so i made my way to the tracks, sat there for hours before i was sure georgia would be home and asleep, so i could pack my stuff.

and i smoked and smoked and smoked until i could feel my lungs blackening. and i drank and smoke weed when my cigs ran out. i smoked until i couldn't feel and i tried to get high enough to face her again.

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a/n:
literally the only part you'll ever read in miles' point of view.
^sorry if this is crap.