Beautiful Disasters [complete]

NO ONE UNDERSTANDS.

NO ONE UNDERSTANDS. 

CHASE'S POV. 

For me, life has been nothing but empty. Boring. Pointless. 

My childhood consisted of my biological parents doing cocaine off the coffee table, my black bag being sent from foster home to foster home, and of drug dealers bouncing from day to day, always carrying a little baggie of "flour" for my many foster parents. 

Yeah, that was life for me. 

My therapist thinks I had it rough, am traumatized beyond repair, but I still manage to wake up every day. 

And Chanel, that goddamn bit-- 

"Chase! Come downstairs!" Shouted Jim. 

I huffed in annoyance and gritted my teeth. What now? "Coming!" I shouted back, shifting my face from annoyance to a neutral expression. I stared at the mirror on the wall. What do I see? 

A guy who is pretty much alone? A guy who doesn't have anyone? 

Anyways, back to Chanel. She doesn't understand what it was like to have no parents, no one to love you and nurture you. She doesn't get the many things that I have seen and why I am the way that I am. 

But then again, I never told her the things that happened to me. I guess I can't entirely blame her. 

In a way, I understand where she's coming from. But I made a mistake -- a horrible one. Deep down, do I regret it? Yes, I do. I was drunk and she was there and I just... I couldn't resist. 

I do regret it.

Chanel thinks I have always been an asshole about what I did to her. Maybe it seems like that but truthfully, when I woke up, lying on the cold wet concrete behind some building, I had no recollection of what happened the night before. I was confused, there was a scab at the back of my head and some stray cats were walking past me. I didn't know where I was or where Chanel was. 

I only found out through the video or voice recording or whatever that the bitch Tasha sent. I was shocked and it was that recording that triggered a handful of events. One by one, the event unfolded before me.

I remember her tears streaming down her face, her face in pain, her desperate pleading. I remember my grabbing her skirt, her pushing away, me kissing her. All while she begged me to stop. 

Thinking about it just makes me mad. I can't comprehend why I thought it was okay or whether I was way too intoxicated that night. 

But I only had two drinks. 

But I only took one hit of a joint. 

I'm not a saint. I'm just damaged. 

As I head down the stairs, I begin to think about another girl I've damaged. Sebastian's sister. 

I remember Kami. Her shy smile around me, the cautious flirty eyes she would look at me with when Sebastian got up to use the bathroom. The texts she sent me, how she wished we could hang out together. Her long blonde hair shining under the warmth of the sun. Man, she was beautiful. 

Then I got too drunk and scared her off, and put her into a coma. 

But it wasn't my fault. 

She wanted to tell Sebastian and I wasn't going to allow that. 

But deep down, I know it's all denial. 

I walked into the kitchen, Maria passed out on the couch from work and Jim is in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables.