VALERIE

Seventy Seven

And you call this his funeral.

Nick had been rotting away since day one.

He'd been poisoning himself with all types of toxic and dangerous substances.

From liquor, to inhalants to drugs.

He'd been damaged from the start.

And now his body was just laying there.

Feet away in the woods from the car crash, he had flown through the window after he drunkenly and purposely tried to swerve into a car that hit the breaks on time causing Nick's Mustang to go off the highway and crash into a tree.

"Oh my God I think he's dead!" The woman who was in the other car screamed out once they had found him, turned down on his stomach in the wet soil.

"Call 911!" The passanger replied shaking as he approached Nick's body.

He gagged at the horrific sight, the middle aged man wanted to cry.

He had never seen someone so young in that state. It felt unreal to him. So unreal that he thought he was in a dream until he realized the reality of what had just happened.

The woman began to wail while explaining what had happened to the operator on the phone, the operator could barely understand the woman's frantic explanation.

Gently grabbing his wife's shoulders the middle aged man dragged her away from the scene and back to the side of the road where he completely lost his cool and broke down to cry.

The dirt was refreshing underneath the pale and cold body that was soothing in it.

Flipping over onto his back, Nick chuckled softly and weakly, a few coughs escaping his mouth as he did so.

His head was hurting and his vision was completely impaired in the dark.

"Fuck." He mumbled happily with a small smirk spreading across his face while focusing on the dark night sky.

//

"Nicholas honey, there is no smoking in here." The nurse said sweetly to her patient who was sitting up in the hospital bed with a lit cigarette between his fingertips.

Nick took another drag and inhaled it smugly then he blew the smoke right at her in a perfect line.

The nurse sighed heavily before she left the room, mumbling things underneath her breath. She didn't even know how he managed to get a cigarette.

Nick leaned back in the bed but not before crushing the cigarette off on the blanket, he stared at all the cuts on his legs and arms, he could only imagine how messed up his face was.

The bruises had began to develop, green and purple hues staining the skin underneath all of the ink he had on his body.

That and he had a large concussion from crashing out the window, he still didn't know how he was alive.

How we was mildly injured and not paralyzed or dead.

He wanted to be proud but he was ashamed.

"What's up fuck face?" Marco's voice was heard by Nick before he was seen. When Marco strolled into the room with a bottle of Ciroc in his hands, Nick immediately out stretched his hands for it.

"Sir you cannot bring alcohol into a hospital." The same nurse came in suddenly, Marco glared at her.

"Bitch do you mind? We're celebrating the fact that he isn't dead." Marco snapped at her almost instantly before she left again.