This was a therapeutic chain of events.

SIX

Last night was by far one of the best nights I've had out in ages. I crashed at Bono's place last night which was great because that meant I didn't have to see my parents. I know there's gonna be some lecture for me when I get home about my safety, and 'why are you like this?', 'what made you become this person?' blah blah blah, sorry to break it to you guys but you did.

I felt weird today because for the majority of last night, I couldn't sleep. I was lying next to Bono, because his parents really don't give a crap. And I was wearing one of his tee shirts, the same one I always wear when I go round there. But I just couldn't seem to fall asleep, at first I thought I still had a buzz, but then I started thinking hard, and then someone popped into my head, Brendon.

I hate it when I think about him, my entire being gets flooded with betrayal. The saddest moment of my life was when Brendon left, I was fucking 6 years old, he came in to my room the night before he was leaving and stayed with me, we talked all night, he explained to me why he had to go, but that he'd visit me all the time and we could skype and talk on the phone and one day I could come tour the world with him. I was happy for him then. But once the realisation hit that he was never coming home, and after the first 20 or so skype calls and 100 hundred messages later, I guess somewhere along the way we lost touch, got bored maybe.

He hugged me goodbye, picked up his suitcase and walked out the door, for good.

I've probably seen him twelve times since he walked out that door, leaving me to fend for myself. That's twelve times in eleven years, that's pretty pathetic if you ask me. The last time I saw him was his wedding day, I was fourteen or fifteen years old, this was around the time I started to notice I was no longer good enough for my parents, they wanted good old Brendon back, or baby face Brendon as my mom used to call him. I didn't want to go, actually at some point I refused to go. But that was when my dad and I could still talk, not really talk like we used to, but he managed to talk me into it.

So I went, I went and saw his pretty wife, and his perfect wedding, and all his famous friends, and I could not feel happy for him, as much as I tried, I wanted to, I wanted to hug him and tell him how proud I was of him. I wanted to try again. But I couldn't, and that was the first moment in my life I felt absolutely emotionless, nothing. My brother's wedding day, Then that weekend we got back, I went to a party and ever since then, my life has been what you know it to be, cold and insignificant.

I find myself thinking about Brendon more than I would like to, I replay a lot of things round my head, maybe if I had done this, or that, or said this in a different way. My parents have tried to invite him down a couple of times over the last three years, to talk some sense into me, but I would threaten them, by saying 'it would only make things worse', or 'I wanted to kill him, leaving me alone with him would force me to do it.' So he never came. I began to resent him more and more with what felt like every day, every time I would hear a piano or someone playing one of his songs, or even people who looked like him, my betrayal inside me only grew. I felt abandoned, I was abandoned.

But I've learnt to accept it, being me you learn to get over a lot of things, a lot of abandonment comes you way, you just brush it off, get back on the horse and go paint the town red. That weekend I came back from his wedding, was one of the best weekends of my life, drugs not only made me forget about everything with my parents, but it helped me with the fact that Brendon was never coming back. I felt free, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, that's why every week when it piles up again, another Saturday night rolls up and I get to erase it all in one swift snorting motion.

I came home, I starting doing drugs, threw out all my clothes and replaced them with dark grungy ones, painted my nails black, died my hair blonde and lost my virginity all in the space of a week. People say it takes time for your life to change, I wonder how much of that time is enough. I figured it out.

So even though I woke up in a pissed mood, I would shrug it off and continue the way I always do, icy and detached, from everyone and everything, it's easier that way right?

I climbed out of Bono's bed and pulled on my clothes from last night, weezing from the night before, I looked in the mirror and wiped under my eyes, removing some of the black that had smudged during the night. I walked over to Bono's dressing table and scribbled down on a piece of paper.

'Had a wicked night you freak, gone home, see you tomorrow. Ronnie.'

With that done, I walked out of his room and down the stairs of his apartment stepping out in to the New York frost, the cold air made me cough dramatically and the sun burned my retinas.

"Baby jesus." I said covering my eyes with my hands, receiving a weird look from two kids across the street, I shot them a sarcastic smile and continue my short walk home.

When I got to my block I prepared myself for the wrath of my parents, but when I pushed the door open I saw no one sitting there, waiting to interrogate me, my brain was doing a mini victory dance as I made my way up to my room to change out of these seriously foul smelling clothes.

'fuck.' I thought to myself as I pushed my door open and saw my dad sitting on my bed. There was silence for about two minutes, I stood there frozen, out of all the things I thought, I was not expecting this at all, causing my normally chilled persona to become ice.

"Where've you been Ronnie?" My dad asked freakishly calmly, fuck, calm is never good. A second later my calm confidence came back, I mean really what else can these people do to try and change me, I'm pretty sure they've tried everything.

"I told you, out." I said, taking off my leather jacket and going to hang it up in my closet.

"I can see that, but I thought I told you couldn't go out." I heard my bed squeak and knew he was standing up.

"Oh did you, I forgot-"

"Don't lie to me Ronnie." He shouted. "God, I don't know what to do with you, ever since Brendon left-"

"Don't say that name in here." I snarled, spitting out the words like poison in my mouth.

"He's your brother Ronnie-" My dad said pinching the brim of his nose.

"He is not my brother." I said extremely slowly and calmly. If he brought it up again, I don't think I would be able to keep my chill.

"Well the birth certificate says otherwise." Was this a joke to him? "Look Ronnie, I know he hurt you by leaving, but you have to understand-"

"I don't wanna talk about it." I said, I could feel my anger growing.

"But he loves you."

"I don't want to talk about it!" I shouted, causing my dad to shut up, for a moment anyway.

"Do you think it's ok to talk to your father that way?" He asked me after my mini outburst, folding his arms across his chest.

"If it'll get you to shut up." I said copying his pose.

"Ronnie, if you don't talk to us, you don't give us any other choice but to send you to someone who will make you talk about it." He said, and I scoffed.

"Why don't you just send me to foster home, I'm sure we'd all be happier then." I snarled, I had thought about what it would be like to be in a foster home before, the idea used to scare me but now it kind of seems like a heaven send.

My Dads eyebrows relaxed from where they were raised and he spoke after a moment "Real nice Ronnie, let's hope your mother doesn't hear you say that." That was it, I grabbed my just hung up leather jacket from out of my closet, and stormed passed my dad, who tried and failed to catch me.

"Ronnie you're not going out." He shouted after me.

"Watch me." I shouted back.

"Ronnie! As long as you live in my house you live by my rules!" He shouted down already half way down the stairs.

I grabbed my pair of house keys from off the counter. "Shove it up your ass!" I shouted as I slammed the door in his face, running down the street.

I heard the door open and thought he was gonna run after me. "Ronnie! Ronnie!" He shouted, I kept running till he was out of ear shot, before I stopped, this really wasn't the best idea for a hangover.