Numb ✔️

Bonus Chapter Caiden's POV: The Ride Home

"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.