Camp Hope

Chapter Two: Braden's Great Life

Chapter Two

Braden’s POV

            My hands tighten around the cool neck of the bottle of beer, as I raise it up to my lips and take a long sip of it. The bitter substance travels through my throat and into my body ailing my pains. The throbbing ache in my back weakens and I take another sip from the bottle. I sit down the bottle as I pull out a back of cigarettes from my pocket and slip one out raise it to my lips. I place the pack back into my jean pocket and grab the lighter sitting beside me on the dock and light that cigarette. I inhale as I stare out at the lake before me. This is my life. The beautiful lake starching before me giving off the fake sense of perfection. I run one hand through my messy brown hair as I flick some ash of with my other hand and take another drawl of the cigarette.

            Perfection that is what you see on the outside of everything. Everyone looks at someone else’s life and thinks how perfect it must be. Then that person looks the same at someone else. It is an endless, useless cycle. I stare out at the night’s stars glisten of the still water. I finish my cigarette putting it out on the dock and leaving it there. Then, I return to my beer and take another long drink trying to drink away the horrible pain that remains in my back. The pain that has a horrible memory attached to it, this is my sixth beer and the numbness has finally taken over my back, supplying me with some form of relief. As I down the last beer I push myself off of the dock, standing up stumbling a little as I attempt to walk back up to the house.

            The large house towers high in the air with its large three stories. I walk pretty normally back to the house that seems somewhat pleasant looking. Six beers is nothing for me, it’s enough to get me a little off and numb, but not enough to make me drunk, drunk because over the years I have built up a strong resistance for alcohol. Walking and stumbling across the stupid, perfectly cut green grass I near the large back porch of this monster home. Opening the door I stumble inside figuring they are asleep. As I reach the staircase, not so quietly I add, a voice brings me to a sudden stop.

            “Braden, where have you been?”  Leanne demands, which is not very threatening with her innocent sweet voice.

            I turn and face my adopted mother, she and her husband Grant adopted me when I was 16 so about two years ago. Dream come true right for a boy who’s been to 14 foster homes? Not so much. I am a legal adult who can care for me, but they insist on me staying there because I am like their son and still have senior year next year. Leanne is really pretty for her age, she is 32 and tall with blonde hair and blue eyes that go with her tan skin and thin figure. She is also so sweet and cares about everyone. She loves me for some crazy reason I never understood, yet I still push her away as if I do not care.

            “Nowhere,” I mumble to her as I turn my back to her again and grip the stair case’s railing.

            “Stop right there Braden! I am trying to talk to you,” she says angrily as I turn back to her leaning against the rail. I take in her appearance. Her blue eyes look really tired and her hair is falling out of a pony tail. She is wear a night gown and cotton robe over top, along with her feet inside some slippers. “Braden I have been worried sick about you! Were you out doing drugs again?” She demands a sad and disappointed look in her eyes. You think I feel like shit for putting her through hell. Honestly I don’t care. I drink, I smoke, I did drugs, I’ve done it all in hopes to get rid of my horrible pains in my back and the awful memories of my past.

            “No,” I reply in a bored tone. It is true I haven’t done drugs in a while. They were no longer helping so I seen no reason to continue the use, plus I overdosed on cocaine one night and woke up in a hospital room. That pretty much made me stops with the drugs.