Hunger and Highs (BEING REWRITTEN)

Three- Intro to Josh

//edited\\

~Josh~

High. That's the only feeling I seemed to feel these days. If it wasn't weed, it was something much worse. Every since my parents divorced and my dad started drinking, my life was a living hell. They clearly still loved each other, they just couldn't see passed their differences.

It all started when my two younger siblings had asked me to take them to the zoo. I should've paid more attention to the road conditions. I should've made sure no one else was coming down the road. I should've been the one who was killed. They never said it, but I felt as if my parents blamed me for their deaths. I couldn't bring myself to tell them that it wasn't completely my fault, the other car swerved into my lane before I had the chance to try and avoid it. Their seat belts malfunctioned, something that my car company offered to fix.

But I couldn't drive that car again. I had been put into the hospital in a coma for over two weeks after the wreck, and at first they were ecstatic that I was alive. They'd cried tears of joy, my mom saying that she didn't think she would've survived if I'd died as well. But not long after, something changed. They started looking at me with distaste, they would ignore me constantly, they took down pictures of me and cut me out of family pictures. I don't even think they realized that they both did it, but they both acted the same.

One night, I'd heard my parents fighting. They'd said they couldn't understand who went wrong with me, making me so careless. My father started drinking once he signed their divorce papers. He would drunkenly yell at me that I should've been the one who died because I'd lived long enough. He told me that they would've been more likely to succeed. And that's when I met Brendon. He was going through a similar situation, neither of his parents accepted him as he was; which was bisexual. His parents did drugs as well, so it was bound to happen that he would do them too.

He's the one that accidentally introduced them to me. He'd somehow found out who his parents' dealer was, and made a deal with him saying that if he didn't rat him out, he'd pay more for the drugs. Lucky for Brendon, his grandfather had died, leaving him with a shit ton of money that his parents were too drunk to realize should've went to them if they hadn't been terrible parents. Brendon felt bad for using the money for drugs and alcohol, but what can you do when you have nothing else?

"Yo, Josh. You okay? You seem a bit distressed." Brendon said and I nodded, looking down at my not-so-clean cigarette. It was actually a weed cig, but no one needed to know that. I took a long drag, inhaling the toxins and immediately feeling it burn a little as usual. It gave me a sickly lightheaded feeling that I was so used to. I hated it, but it took everything else away as it somewhat clouded my thoughts. When I was high, I didn't think about all that my parents had said, everything with what happened with my siblings left my mind and I knew they wouldn't be happy about what I was doing to cope. It had been three years, after all.

"Dude, give me a hit?" Brendon asked and I softly glared at him. He rolled his eyes and held out his little tumbler that had a clear substance. "I'll let you have a drink for a hit."

"And I'm ninety-nine percent sure that's not water." I said and he snorted. I rolled my eyes and started to hand him the joint to him when we heard a voice.

"Brendon Boyd Urie!" Brendon groaned and rolled his eyes. Brendon glared at the other boy as he walked up to us, an irritated look on his face. We weren't in school, but there were some fellow students around; quite a few actually seeing as how this was a popular area for bus stops and whatnot. "I told you to stop all this. I've been patient with you, but you shouldn't be willingly asking for a hit. And you sure as hell shouldn't be drinking whatever is in that container." He scolded, making Brendon glare even harder.