August 7th 9:03 pm

I'm all moved in to my apartment now. Although I've been here since June, I finally unpacked my last box of stuff. Seems like I won't need to come home ever. Hard to believe that my parents bought me this place. Apparently, I'm "too good" for a college dorm. Whatever. The people in the building are nice enough. There's nothing visibly wrong with the apartment and it's totally free to me. Bless my parents for not reproducing more than one child. Today I visited the park that my neighbor told me about. It's almost as nice as the one back home. It reminds me of Brady though. God, I miss him. I wonder who and what he's been doing lately. Probably Lana. Probably meth. Wish he could escape. Wish he could be here, with me. But then again, maybe he doesn't want to.

Enough of this. I need sleep. G'night.


It was only cold at night, cold and lonely. I contemplated the idea of a pet, unaware of the rules of the building. Even a fish would make the place seem less empty and mean. Anything would be better than being totally alone all day and night. Classes didn't even start for another three weeks, most students weren't even leaving for another two. But, no, I had to get out as soon as shit hit the fan with Brady. Thank God for my richer-than-God parents who jumped at the idea of shipping me out early to "get familiar with the city". My New York apartment was my new home. Hardly a home though, more like a furnished cell. Did I regret leaving yet? Hope not. Isolation is a bitch when you're too young to drink and too smart to abuse any substances. However, even I knew that if you turned the right corner and headed down the right alley in New York, you can get away with just about anything. With my mind floating over possibilities and circumstances, I slipped into bed and snuggled up with my down pillow. Soon after, I drifted off to sleep.



Life without Violet was foggy, blurred around the edges and dark. And there were only two things that could clear away the fog, sharpen the details and shine light on my path, sex and meth. Sometimes, special times, I got both and my vision was precise, focused perfectly on my path. A short highway leading straight to the burning flames of hell, and I didn't care one bit. If finding my escape from a fog of guilt and sorrow enhanced by the loss of my Vi, meant staring down a road to the open mouth of hell, then so be it. Anything was better than the life I lived when I was sober.

My introspection was interrupted by the loud slam of a door. Great, Lana's home. Here comes the maelstrom. "Brady!" She screeched, reminding me of a raven.

"In here." I called from the bedroom.

Our cozy little slice of heaven was a dumpy three "room" trailor, but the "rooms" were more like expanded closets, because they were too small to actually be considered rooms. There was a third of a bathroom, complete with a small sink, micro-sized toilet and miniature shower. Also, one cramped bedroom and a kitchen nook attached to the living room. Four windows and one door out. It's total square feet was smaller than my bedroom in high school.

"What the hell are you doing?" The Bitch growled at me as she found me lounging on our bed, staring at a baby TV.

"Uh, nothing. What does it look like I'm doing?"

She scowled at me. "Get up!" She slapped my leg. "Have you done anything all day?"

"Nope. Oh, wait, I took a piss about an hour ago. Does that count?"

Lana simply stared at me in total disbelief. She'd never been a fan of my special brand of humor. "This place is a mess. Couldn't you at least clean up after yourself? I'd like to come home from a long day and be able to relax, not have to worry about cleaning the house."

"Yeah, Lana, I'm sure it wasreallytough today, flashing your titties to bunch of old pervs before going back stage and dealing to all of your stripper pals."

"Fuck you, asshole. At least I'm working and keeping a roof over our heads." She seemed hurt, but there was no way that she'd let the prickling tears fall in front of me.

"And what a wonderful roof it is, Lana." I muttered as I slipped on a pair of pants and threw on a shirt that didn't reek. "I hope you're proud."

"Well, if you're not happy then fuckin' leave, dick." She cursed, throwing a pillow at me. Without responding, I stepped over piles of clothes and trash, heading down the hallway toward the door. Grabbing a twenty off the counter, I slipped out the door and slammed it behind me. Lana and I shared one vehicle, a beat-up blue Taurus. It'd been my parents' when I was in high school and they gave it to me as a graduation gift. Too bad I didn't go anywhere.

Lana would be calling in about 5, 4, 3…Just as soon as she finished wiping off the tears, she'd realize I was gone and need to check in. Every fight was exactly the same. As if on cue, my cell phone blared and "Lana" flashed up on the bright green screen.

"What?" I barked into the phone. The anger was totally unnecessary and unprovoked. There was nothing that Lana had done to deserve such hostility. Sure, she bitched a lot, but so does anything with a vagina. It's nature. I was just a bitter fuck who didn't want to feel anything, except when flying high above the world. Somehow I always took out my anger on Lana and the poor girl was so in love with me, she was convinced herself she deserved it, stupid silly girl.

"I'm sorry about this fight. You're not really leaving me are you?"

I let silence fill her with anxiety long enough to make her twitch. "Brady?" She squeaked like a mouse.

"I'm just getting a pack of cigarettes, Lana, fuckin' relax. Don't be so goddamn insecure all the time."

"Okay." She sighed. "I'll see you when you got home."

"Yep." Before she could choke out an "I love you." I snapped the phone shut. No doubt she'd set the phone down on the counter, sigh, reflect on her life and then begin cleaning up my mess. Lana was a fucked up mess, had been as long as I'd known her and probably before. Always knew she was nothing like my Vi, but then again no one was.

The End

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