Tripping Down 12 Steps Into Malibu

Home?

"Welcome home." The weird woman with the plastic Barbie smile greeted them.

Ryan rolled his eyes at the false sense of comfort they were trying to pass off. This bullshit place would never be his home. He'd do better sleeping under a bridge or maybe even jumping off of one. And this woman deserved to know that.

"This isn't my fucking home." He muttered. Her smiled faltered for a second.

"George." His father glared in his direction. "Enough."

It wasn't fair that he was being forced to go to some rehabilitation center. And it definitely wasn't fair that his father was going to be the one to take him. He was every bit the addict that Ryan. He just had a different substance.

Being an alcoholic was no better than being a crack addict. And even if it was, who cares? That didn't make it a good thing. Being the better of two evils was still considered evil.

"We never know how long someone is going to be staying with us. Everyone's addiction is different. So we want them to feel at home while they are here."

"You want this to feel like my home? Then you need to turn down the fake niceness immediately. We don't do any of that where I'm from. Pop a pill, chug a bottle, call me a useless son of a bitch who's never going to make it anywhere in life." Ryan sighed as if relishing in memories. "That's home to me."

"We have a questionnaire you can fill out to determine what kind of living space you'll be in." She held the papers towards his father.

Ryan snatched them out of her hands before he could get them. "I'm the one going to this place, right? So shouldn't I be the one filling out the questionnaire?"

"We'll try to make it as close to how you want it as possible." She kept her professional persona. The strain on her smile was barely visible.

"Can't get it exact, huh?"

"No." She shook her head. "You're going to have a roommate. The room needs  to accommodate both of your needs."

"We have to have a roommate?" He groaned. "Can't we just pay more to get our own room?"

"I'm afraid not." She lifted up a clipboard and pen. "Roommates are required."

"But what if my roommate is a total dick or something?"

"Then that would mean we got yet another perfect match." She made sure to hold the items out to Ryan.

His eyes narrowed at the clipboard as if it was the one who insulted him. The woman's face remained perky. Not showing one ounce of the frustration she had to be feeling. Ryan's father grabbed the clipboard and pen. Laughing freely.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir. Just fill that out and when he comes back tomorrow, he'll be placed."

"Let's go fill this out, son." He pulled Ryan towards the chairs.

Ryan yanked his arm away from him. Sitting down himself. "What a bitch."

"If you act like an asshole, you get treated like an asshole."