Medda's home for troubled kids

Chapter nine- Albert

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mention of underage drinking, substance abuse/ addiction, drugs, depression.

Albert ran a hand through his hair as he sat on his bed, he knew the rules. He wasn't allowed to leave the room until Medda had talked to him about that outburst, something he knew for certain he was going to get grounded for. His anger had been leading him more and more recently and as much as he hated it, Albert didn't feel like he could control it. Like it was just going to keep growing until he exploded.

Frustrated, Albert climbed up onto Race's bed undoing the screws on the vent and grabbing one of the bottles of alcohol he had stashed up there. If he hadn't been busted a week ago Albert would've gone for weed but he feared that Medda would do a drug test. The Red head took a couple of swigs from the bottle, feeling himself instantly relax a bit as the substance ran through his body, this would do for now, he just needed something to get through this talk with Medda anyways.

A knock sounded on the door and Albert quickly put the bottle back in the vent, replacing the screws before he sat down on his own bed. "Come in."

The door opened, not revealing Medda, but Crutchie. "Hey Crutch." Albert greeted, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"I heard about what happened from Davey." Crutchie said, taking a seat on Race's bed. "Medda's with Oscar and Morris, I asked her if I could come in here."

Albert looked down at his hands, suddenly finding it hard to stare at his brother. Somehow, talks from Crutchie were worse than Medda's. "How's Race?"

"Davey said he's sleeping." Crutchie replied. "But Albert, what's going on with you?"

Albert's head snapped up. "What?"

"You're angry and picking fights all the time and I feel like every time I see you, you're either high or reeking of booze." Crutchie explained, Albert hated this. "What's going on with you, this isn't like you."

Albert felt his face heat up, he should tell Crutchie the truth. That he hated himself, hated everything, didn't even want to wake up the next day sometimes. He felt like everything was falling apart and he lashed out because was so afraid of everything falling apart, all the secrets he held. Working the job for Snyder, his deal with Spot, the harder drugs. Albert was so wracked with guilt that he turned to substances to keep himself running because he didn't want anyone to worry about him, even Jack. Didn't want to stress anyone out about how he felt like he was drowning, like the world had opened up a hole underneath him and swallowed him whole. Albert knew addiction and substance abuse was in his blood, the little he remembered of his parents was that his dad did the exact same thing. He wanted to tell Crutchie everything and wanted so desperately to ask for help.

But this tiny little voice in the back of his mind told him not to. If he told the truth, then everything would be over. No one would trust him again; he'd be forgotten and all alone. So, he did what he does best nowadays, lash out.

"What's wrong with me?" Albert snapped. "What's wrong with you? You think you know everything that goes on just because you like to sit and listen, but you don't. You think you're the mediator of the house because you don't get involved with anything but I'm sick of that all mighty bullshit. You're a coward who just meddles with other people's lives to make you feel better about how your's is going to shit."

Hurt was written all over Crutchie's face. "Al, I was-"

"Was what, just trying to help. You can't even face your own problems, why the fuck should you get to be invested in mine." Albert snapped. "Get out. Now."

Crutchie stood up, throwing a sad look at Albert as he made his way to the door. "Someday I hope you drop this facade of yours. It scares everyone to see you like this." With that he was gone.

Albert felt tears surge forward as he dropped to his knees and started to cry. "Stupid." He mumbled, hitting his head. "Stupid, stupid."

He couldn't control it anymore, and if anything, Crutchie's statement made it worse. He was scaring everyone he loved, but he didn't know what to do. He hated this version of himself more than anyone. But if they found out about any of it things would never be the same.

Albert let out a small sob as he wrapped his arms around himself and stood up, he needed something stronger. The Red Head exited his room and walked over to the bathroom, making sure the door was locked behind him. Once he ensured no one could come in, he turned towards the medicine cabinet and opened it.

At first he had gone into the cabinet when he had one of the worst anxiety attacks of his life and was worried what would happen if anyone knew about it. He had gone into the cabinet that first time since he knew Davey, Morris, and Race were all on some form of anxiety medication and he figured one of them had to help him. And it did... at first. But as he continued to take them, the effects were starting to wear off, so he started to experiment with the other meds in the cabinet, seeing what made him feel better and what didn't. It was his little secret. Months of switching through the pills had gone by until almost a week ago, Albert had accidentally taken one of Race's anti-seizure meds. That day he felt the best he had felt in a long time, so he stopped switching through the pills.

Albert grabbed the bottle out of the cabinet and fished out a tablet, swallowing it dry and taking a deep breath, it would hit him soon enough. Then he would be fine. He wouldn't be worrying about the trajectory he was on; he'd be fine.

'Everything's going to be okay.' Albert thought, he needed it to be.