In Too Deep

Chapter 1

His eyes are bloodshot, his throat burns from throwing back shot after shot, and his stomach is on fire as all the liquor mixes together. He wants to be numb, he literally doesn't want to feel a thing. He's chasing the shots with beer, and it's helping get him to the state he wishes to be in. He pulls at the collar of his black dress shirt, ripping two buttons off, and his black suit jacket is sitting on the floor, but he doesn't care, not even a little. He's been back two weeks, and has flown to four different states for five funerals, each one passing in a blur, but the one today was slow, and different in so many ways, this one today was what broke him. Broke him to the point where the alcohol in his system, seems to be taking longer to take affect. He orders drinks upon drinks, until the bartender behind the bar nicely tells Jay to go home, and get some rest, before handing him his receipt. Jay just nods his head; at least he thinks he does as he signs somewhere on the small white piece of paper. He stumbles out the door, his jacket forgotten on the floor. When he gets outside, he braces himself on the cool wall of the bar, as he looks at his phone and eventually orders a cab.

XXXXXX

He's half asleep when they pull up to his childhood home. He pays the driver, and exits the car, he looks at the house, and it makes him want to hope back into the yellow vehicle, but it's already driving off when he turns around. He wants more to drink, he wants to black out, and forget. The phone screen is blurred when he pulls it out of his pocket to check the time. It's too late to go get more to drink, so he slowly climbs the stairs in front of his house, and fumbles with his keys to get in. He walks through the door and tries to close it behind him quietly, but instead he slams it; waking up the last person he wants to see, or talk to. He regrets not leaving, but it's too late now, and he turns to face the older Halstead after he clears his throat.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"Out." Jay says curtly

"Don't fucking come into my house, after you disrespected your mother by leaving her funeral early, disappeared without talking to your family, and walking in here drunk off your ass at one in the morning." Patrick says, and Jay scuffs, and runs his hand down his face. He's drunk, too drunk to have any kind of rational conversation, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that, so he turns back around to walk out.

"Are you feeling guilty now, for leaving her? For leaving your family when you were needed most?" Patrick says standing up, just as Jay opens the front door again. He can feel his boiling blood practically melt the alcohol away, as he turns around once more.

"I left to fight a war Patrick, but if you want to talk about disrespect and leaving, want to tell me why you brought your fucking mistress to your wife of thirty five years' funeral." Jay yells a little too loudly for this time at night.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh I don't? Then tell me who the tall blonde, young enough to be my sister was?"

"She's a family friend."

"Right a family friend that you've been screwing behind your sick wife's back. Good story Pat." Jay yells again, as he decides to push past his father to get his stuff, and then leave, but Patrick pushes Jay back against the wall, and hits him.

Ms. Denton next door, called the cops when she heard their yelling.

"You know I wanted her to get an abortion when we found out about you, you were a risk to her health. And now I have you, and not her. I wish it was you who died over there, instead me having to watch your mother slowly die here. You're a fucking disgrace to this family."

"Funny that you say that, cause I wish that you would have died instead of her." Jay yells, and Patrick tries to hit his son again, but Jay blocks his hand, and lands a hit to his father's face.