The Badboys Heart

This is going to be a new story for me to write. It's not going to be the light and fluffy romance so many people are used too. It will be dark, twisted, and different. BUT, it will always be funny, loving, and downright worth it. The preface will be a little different but just hang on. Trust me when I say it will be worth every single word. 

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IAN

 One year ago

I don’t have time for this.

Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose and breath through my mouth. Across from me, my mother lays passed out on the floor, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a barely lit cigarette in the other.

Cursing, I push away from the doorway and kick the bottle out of her hand sending it spiraling away. The whiskey bottle smashes against the wall and I watch as the last bits of liquid spreads across the dark floor.

Leaning down, I slowly remove the cigarette from her sticky fingers and push it behind my ear. “Mom.” I push her shoulder lightly, hoping to stir her form whatever hell she is currently drowning herself in. All I get is a soft groan.

Scrubbing my hands through my hair roughly, I straighten up. “Fuck!” I nudge my boot into her thigh, a little harder than before. “Mom, get the hell up!” This time her eyelids flutter quickly, another grown passing across her lips. Sighing, I lean against the counter and wait for her to realize where she is.

Looking up, I take in the wet spot starting to spread on the ceiling and shake my head. My mom sure knew how to pick them. “Ian baby?”

Glancing down, I watch her struggle to get up. Reaching down, I cup her elbow and help guide the rest of her body off the floor. When I get her leaning against the table that someone decided to shove against the wall, she runs her hands nervously through her newly dyed blonde hair.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Disgusted, I head back into the small kitchen and look for a clean glass. When I find one, I run it quickly under water before filling it up. Handing it to her, she takes a small sip, her red lipstick staining the glass.

“You shouldn’t be here either.” I tell her while taking the still shaking glass from her hands. She glances toward the doorway leading into another room and shakes her head quickly.

“It’s not like that baby. You know that.” I run my hand along the back of my neck nervously. Every time I found her in this predicament, it was always the same thing. It wasn’t like this.

I was seeing things the wrong way.

“Mom, where’s Evie?” She shakes her head before I even get the chance to  finish the sentence. Her clumpy hair smacks her cheek from the force and it stings her cheek red.

“Sh-she’s not here.” I can tell from the nervous tick of her eyes that she is lying to me. Evie is here, somewhere in this piece of shit trailer, doing only god knows what with god knows who.

Bunching my hand into a fist, I try to calm my anger slowly making it’s way to the surface. I just needed to get Evie out of here. Then, I could worry about the rest later.

“Stay here,” I say over my shoulder as I start toward the room my mom was looking at earlier. Before I can even make it halfway across the kitchen, she comes up from behind me and squeeze my arm to stop me. “No, Ian. You don’t know these people.”

I jerk away from her. “I don’t care.” And I don’t. I really fucking don’t care. Pushing into the room, I take in the trash littered across the floor, along with the cigarettes and empty bottles stringed across the couch.

My mother is right on my footsteps, never breaking away from my shadow. “Ian, just take a moment to think this through.” She stumbles, still drunk, and takes out a picture frame with her clumsiness. Turning around, I check her over to make sure she’s okay.

Even if she is a worthless mother, she;’s still the only one I got. And somewhere in this trailer is my sister. Why she even took up with our mother I will never know.

I want to turn around and blame my mother, scream at her until she finally realizes how much hell she put me in Evie through, but it doesn’t matter. My sister made her own choices and the only thing

I could do now is try my hardest to keep her from going further into the life our mother paved for us.

I try the door on my left and when it opens into a small bathroom that smells like sweat and puke, I quickly shut it and continue on my way. My mother still trails my every move, but know she knows better than to try to stop me.

Three years ago this mission would be to find her, but my mother is too fucking lost to be found. She’s too gone for me to help anymore.

The next room brings me into a small bedroom. On the bed, two people lay passed out, blankets tangled around their still bodies.

Relieved, I push into the dark room, trying to find a light switch or flash light. Anything to help lighten up the room. When I finally find it, I flick the light switch up and bright light washes the room in white.

I look at the girl laying on the guy’s chest, black hair curled around her small head and I try to keep the anger at bay. Growing up, Evie was always my responsibility. I was supposed to help her and keep her from this life.

This girl in front of me I have let down. Instead of inspecting her knees for scraps she would have gotten after falling off her bike,  I now look for needle marks to make sure she isn’t shooting up drugs.

I’ve let so many people down in my life and the only way I know how to fix it is to keep trying bring them back. Maybe that’s why I haven’t given up on my mother, even though I try my fucking hardest to forget her.

Reaching over, I shake Evie’s arm lightly. “Eve, wake up. It’s time to go.”

When she doesn’t move, I shake her harder. If she was coming down from one of her highs, it was going to take a lot to bring her back.

Our mother stands in the doorway, her face pale. When I see her bring a hand to her mouth, I realize she is trying to keep herself from puking.

Flicking my eyes away from her, I focus back on Evie and smooth her hair away from her cold forehead. Frowning, I know somethings not right.

Gripping her arm, I shake her harder. “Evie!” This time I shout. When she doesn’t even move or groan or make a noise, dread starts to make it’s way into my stomach like a rock. No, god, please.  I beg, my hand falling to her chest.

When it doesn’t move, I’m frantic now. “Evie wake the fuck up!” I scream, jerking her shoulders. No, I can’t lose her. She’s the only one I have left.

“Ian?” My mom whispers but I can’t even hear her fragile voice where I’m currently at. Right now my whole life is narrowing down to this moment and pain stabs my heart, working it’s way past the dread. I let go of her shoulder and sit on the edge of the bed, gathering her in my arms.

Hair falls across her pale cheek and I push it way, bringing my fingers to her mouth, hoping I’m wrong. All I have to do is feel is a tinkle of a breath.

Then, all this anger and pain and emptiness slowly making it’s way into my veins will disappear.

I get nothing.