I picked up my foam football and began to toss it up and down in the air. I pressed the bottle to my lips and sucked back another gulp. The whiskey burned as it tore down my throat and wrestled with my insides.

“Bye Alex,” my mother shouted through the door. “We’ll see you Thursday.”

“Yeah, see ya,” I shouted, giving the door the bird. I gargled another mouthful of bourbon. I really should have mixed this with Coke, but I couldn’t be bothered.

Rod Zombie’s voice filled the room and my head banged while I sung the lyrics. When my mum was this happy, it pissed me off. He’d bought her over, again. With that thought, I took another swig and felt the effects of the alcohol sending tingles across my skin. Another trip, another injury paid for. What did he do last time? I ground my teeth as I blocked that night out. I want to feel numb. The tingles continued to crawl up my skin. Mission accomplished.

That was it. I’d decided. Back to meaningless sex. Or sex without a girlfriend tag attached. I swung again, sending the amber liquid down. My mouth burned. I studied the label closely. How can people drink this shit?

Girlfriends were too much hard work, or better yet, conniving lying bitches. And friends who were girls? Girls you’d known forever? Well fuck—they were even worse. Gripping the football, I squeezed it until my hand whitened and let it go. I watched it fall to the floor. I smacked my lips together as they numbed. Girls. Friends. You trusted the ones you hung out with, and then they dropped you like a sack of shit. Giving you the freeze out. Bring back the easy lays.

My vision blurred as the posters on my wall went out of focus. I lifted the bottle and inspected it. Half empty. That was quick. Shrugging, I took another swig and tried to focus on my posters. Dad was gonna be pissed that I nicked his bottle. I nodded and chuckled. It would be great to piss him off. No, Alex, it would not. My fuckin’ conscience had decided to join in. Piss off, conscience.

I stared into space as images of Bea began flicking through my mind. Her tear-stained face, her angry eyes in her room, her being thrown into a locker, her long legs … argh! I shook my head, but it did nothing to curb her face from haunting me. Now her bright blue eyes were dull and her smile—cracked. Her skin became pale as her hair hung limply to the side. She’d changed. She was broken. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. I couldn’t keep her safe.The room spun and I struggled to focus. Where was I, again? I tipped my chin against my chest as I rocked back and forth. My mouth opened as the colours of my carpet combined in a putrid mess. My arms flailed out as my balance wobbled, my feet suddenly flicked out in front and I crashed face down on my bed. The bottle rolled just past me to the other side, leaving me exhausted, sick, and passed out with dreams of a sad blue-eyed girl whose trust I had destroyed.