At Least A Million More

Chapter 21

(Raylen)

"What the fuck?" I ask as I walk in the house. I kick my shoes off. "Fucking three A.M. Who gives a fuck?" I growl, walking into the kitchen.

"That's my new favorite fucking word. Fuck." I say, nodding my head and opening the fridge. "Oh that? We just fucked don't worry." I say, grabbing a Mountain Dew and taking a drink.

"Oh this is Kenny's Mountain Dew? Too fucking bad. That shit can't drink it anymore." I growl, slamming it down on the counter and slamming the fridge shut.

"Nice Raylen. You're fucking talking to yourself again. You've gone senile." I groan, running my hand over my face.

"Fucking shit!" I yell, throwing the bottle of Mountain Dew across the kitchen. "What a fantastic day I've had!"

I slam my arms down on the counter and cry out in pain as I look down at my arms and see blood seeping through my bandage. "Fucking hell." I hiss.

"Yep, short temper happening right here folks! Ten dollars to watch, twenty dollars to get beaten to a fucking pulp!" I pant. "Woah dude really? I have a short temper now?" I ask myself.

"Happy fifth of July you fuckers!" I say, sitting on the couch and turning on the tv.

"Raylen? Are you drunk?" Mom asks softly from the doorway. I narrow my eyes and walk toward her, leaving two inches of space in between us.

"Am I drunk? Oh wow, um nope." I say, my blood boiling. "You know, you should've let me get it all out." I say, shaking my head and clenching my hands into fists.

"What's wrong Raylen?" Mom asks, taking a step toward me.

"Don't touch me. Please just- just don't touch me." I say, taking a step back.

"Raylen, what's the matter?" Mom asks, taking another step forward.

"Does life support ring a bell? Huh? Does it?" I ask, my anger bubbling up again. Mom sighs and looks down.

"I can't live not knowing if my baby boy's going to make it or not. It's easier to just end his pain now." Mom says softly, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"You disgust me Mom. Worst than my actual mother. You know why?" I ask, watching as her eyes fill with tears.

"Please don't say that Raylen." Mom chokes.

"Because my mother wouldn't kill me if I were in a coma. She'd let me live. She may not love me, she'll never love me. But she wouldn't kill another human being. Even if they were a faggot like me." I say, feeling an odd joy at seeing I'm making Mom feel guilty.

"Raylen," Mom sobs. I brush past her to my room and grabbed a bag and stuffed a pair of clothes in it, Kenny's clothes, Delsin's journal, my makeup.

I sling the bag over my shoulder and walk into the foyer to grab my converse. Mom grabs my sleeve and tugs on it, showing my bandage.

"Raylen what happened?" Mom gasps. I pull my arm out of her grasp.

"When? When are you taking him off the support?" I ask, slipping my shoes on and staring at her with Noah's keys in my hand.

"Monday." She says. I growl and open the door, slamming it behind me. I walk to the car and hop in before pulling out and driving to Delsin's apartment.

I park the car outside and turn it off. "Fuck!" I cry, punching the steering wheel. I lean forward and rest my forehead against it. "What's wrong with me?! I was completely fine yesterday,"

I grab the bag and climb out before running up the stairs to Delsin's apartment. I open the door and close it behind me, turning the lights on. I walk into Delsin's room and sit down on the bed. I open his journal and look for where I left off.