Stuck in a loop. stuck in a noose.

Hes the rat in the colony of mice

   Beer bottles lay scattered, Shards of glass laid out on the ground in multiple shades of the beer that was within them. Blood also coated the floor in a glossy red color, His dad passed out drunkenly on the couch, Blood on his hands and a beer bottle lay besides him with a few shots of vodka. Onar tried to be as quiet as he could as he gently stepped, narrowly avoiding the glass shards and the creaking boards at the floor.  He has learned by heart the pattern back and forth of the wood-covered ground, boards that were ripped and never repaired. Mice squeaked and scattered when they heard the footsteps while Onar made it up to his room.

The wood creaked underneath his feet despite trying to remain quiet, the stairs were an ultimate lose when trying to not wake up anyone, But he continued on, His steps were silent as can be, Trying not to awake his father. Or his mother, Or anyone really. The beer was too much for his nose to handle. He stepped over stray glass shards and the blood.  He had the bad taste of bile in his mouth, And almost gagged loudly. but he kept it in, forcibly.

He heard the couch creak so he hurried up, but it was just his dad rolling over, not waking up yet. So he got to the top of the stairs, Walking to his bed. The smell of the wary flowers wifting through his open window, the wood in the house rotting slowly but surely, his lowly matress that was settled on the floor with old, brown blood, and newer, goldish red blood layering in splatters of where he laid. 

He settled on the end of the bed, Pulling out his phone. Someone had given it to him as a gift, It wasn't exactly expensive. But Onar didn't care, He would take anything. But a friend was his biggest wish Now. He played offline games on the phone quietly, And settled on the bed comfortably as hours through the forest fire evening to the dark blue and starry, rotten night full of sleeping dead crows, and bats.