The world is ugly

One

Before you read this story, you need to take a moment and rewind with me, back to the year 2000, I was twelve and depressed. While I'll admit, I wasn't afraid, but diving too deep into anything wasn't really my thing, whether it be a relationship or a new drug that I wanted to try out.

Imagine everyone's surprise when I overdosed on my uncle's pain meds.

First of all, don't do it, it's really stupid and if you survive- which I hope you do if you are dumb enough to attempt doing this- you will have disappointed everyone that you know. I spend a week and a half in a coma, and four months in a correctional facility for the mentally unstable.

Not fun. When I finally got out and was allowed to return to normal classes, I was already a freak. The kid who tried to kill herself. My teachers all treated me like I was a bomb about to go off, my friends were careful about what was said in my presence, it was a real mess.

Worst of all, my uncle couldn't look at me for a very long time. Like he was afraid if he looked too hard, I'd just try again. All in all, not a good way to spend freshman year.

All of this went on my record, and as far as proving sanity for the military, let's just say it's not fun.

My name is Alice, and my uncle's name is Ronnie. I lived with him from the time I was eight years old, to the age of nineteen. We don't like each other, at least not really. We argue more than anything, sadly, blood is thicker than water and we're stuck with each other.

I'm still not the most model human being, I own a bar in the Bronx, and go drinking every other night. The law usually let's me get by, driving me home when I get to drunk. Well, at least when I can't  get Quinn to be the designated driver.

Quinnburrie Marie Winters is my best friend, but she's been Quinn since I met her in basic training. Together, we live in a three bedroom apartment and own a dog together.

Right now, I'm waiting, not for someone exactly, but for the feeling. A feeling that fills my stomach and makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry. When I feel like this, I drink. Quinn won't be home, at least not for another hour, leaving me the apartment to do as I please.

"Don't drink so much sugar, it makes you surly." Mike said, taking the bottle from my grasp.

When I get like this, I'm supposed to call someone, this always hasn't come naturally to me. I guess it part of being in the military (Suck it up, buttercup) It becomes your motto. I guess it's times like this that I miss being in the military, I miss constantly having a mission. At least with a mission I couldn't self destruct. Because when you want to self destruct, your brain wants to kill you. All those years of self training and self discipline, seemed to drain down my head. Because it's times like this, that I miss the person who's done the worst to me. I guess that's my fatal flaw, I just love things that hurt too bad.

"So your saying that you willingly got into that death trap and let it shoot you a million feet onto the air?" Mike astonished.

"Basically." I shrugged, "it was fun."

I feel like I'm too old for this sometimes, too old to be depressed and too old to have all these problems. I voiced this opinion to Quinn once, she nearly beat me with the book she was holding. Quinn was the Chaplain for our unit.

"Depression is a part of life, I won't leave you because you had a rough child hood." Mike said, cuddling closer into my side.

She says I have a perfectly good reason to be as screwed up as I am. But I swear on everything that I know, if I wake up one more morning with a knife at Quinn's throat, I'll go insane.

She's started trying to hide the booze from me, but when you are former special ops, you don't have trouble finding what you want.

"She hides the booze because she's got her own drinking problem." Honey said, wiping down the counter, "heaven help her the day she realizes I stopped putting alcohol in her drinks."

My body seems to move on it's own, walking the familiar path to Quinn's bedroom. My hands move at their own accord, quickly removing the lock from the box under Quinn's bed. While she won't go so far as to throw away my booze, she has no qualms hiding it. There's no voice of karma like there used to be, no voice telling me that I don't need the booze, even my subconscious is convinced that I'm not worth saving. Choking back Jack Daniels and swallowing back tears, a noise interrupts my self loathing.

"You home Alice?"

Never in my life have I moved so fast, shoving the bottle back under the bed, not caring that it was spilling its contents.

"Y- yeah!"

I shoved off the floor, swaying slightly and bumping into her desk, something fell off and crashed to the floor but I ignored it, trying to get away from the incriminating evidence.

"Where are you?" Quinn shouted.

I appeared out of the hallway, leaning against the wall but failing miserably, crashing to the floor with a loud thud. Quinn stared at me for a moment before narrowing her eyes.

"Are you drunk?" She growled.
You would think, as a woman of God or a priest, she would be less... Terrifying. I scrambled to stand up, grasping the wall for support.

"Pfft, no... Maybe." I muttered sheepishly grinning at the angry chaplain stalking towards me.

"Are you serious?" Quinn growled, throwing her purse on the couch, standing with hands on her hips. "How am I going to get you to listen to me? Do I need to give you orders like a soldier? I'm trying to be supportive but you just won't let me!" Her last sentence came out as a yell. I flinched and looked at my feet.

I tried to mumble out a response that would get her to leave me alone, but I couldn't come up with one fast enough.

"Fine then. Sergeant Iero, front and center!"
My muddled mind couldn't make sense of what was happening fast enough, I tried to move toward her but just succeed in knocking down everything. Killjoy whined softly, lifting his head from the couch. I turned toward Killjoy, but Quinn had a different plan. She smacked her hand down on the back of my neck, she dragged me backwards and placed me in front of her.

"Sergeant Iero." She growled.
I stared as straight as I could without wobbling.

"Your orders are to go back to your cabin, and wait to be debriefed."

"Your orders for the night, are to shower and go to bed. Lights out, is in twelve minutes."

"Quinn, please-" I began reaching out toward her. She slapped my hand away and glared.

"Will you be the priest at our wedding Quinn?" I asked, Mike had his arm slung around my shoulder.

"So it's official then?" Quinn asked, a grin forming in her face, "when will you get hitched?"

"Sergeant Iero, if I have to escort you there will be consequences." Quinn said. I clamped my mouth shut and stiffly walked to the bathroom, wondering just how deeply I'd messed up.

"As soon as we get back from deployment." Mike whispered.

"AND I'M CALLING YOUR THERAPIST!" Quinn yelled I smacked my head again the was a groan escaping my lips.