Pain and Pictures

Chapter 33- Past

Jordan Backton's POV

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I made my way back to the drug house. I wasn't exactly sure what I would do when I confronted him, but I knew I had to do something.

But he wasn't there.

Dammit!!!

I went back to Violet's, not even bothering to buzz in. She wouldn't let me up. I knew that much.

I sat on a step, across the street. Waiting. Not even sure what for. I just felt like I had to be there.

It'd been hours now, since she threw me out. Since she broke my heart.

My fucking heart.

I hate how this feels! How I can't sleep, can't breathe, can't think of anything but her. Yet, she hates me.

Why wouldn't she? I hate myself, why the hell would anyone love me?

Love?

Where did that come from?

My phone rang. I hurried to grab it, maybe it was Violet? Maybe she figured out the truth!

No. It was my prick of a father.

"What?"

"Is that any way to greet me, son?"

"Yes. What do you want?"

He sighed. His voice went into 'dad' mode, which for him was cold and distant.

"I've received word that you're being sued. What have you done now?"

I couldn't help but laugh. Leave it to him to feign concern and insult me in the same breath.

"I didn't do anything. I'm taking care of it. No need to pretend you care, Pop. You can go back to your scotch now."

"Dammit, you little punk! I'm so sick of your fucking attitude..."

Click.

I hung up. He really is the worst excuse for a father. Well, I'm sure there are plenty of other assholes out there that have no business procreating. I just happened to get one of them.

I closed my eyes and willed the memories to stop, but that was too much to ask.

***

Twelve years ago...

"Mom?! Have you seen my algebra homework? I can't find it!"

No answer.

"Mom? Hello?!"

I made my way to her room. She was probably high. Nothing new. But she's usually still coherent, she's built up quite a tolerance.

I push open the door, and call out to her again. Where is she?

I see her. Laying on the floor of her master bath. Seizing.

I pull out my phone and dial 911. She can't die! She just can't!

The ambulance is on its way. I call my dad, he needs to be here.

"Hello?"

"Dad! Mom's being taken to the hospital! I think she OD'ed!"

"Shit. I can't leave work. We're in the middle of a planning meeting. The press secretary would have my head."

"Who gives a fuck?! Your wife is dying! Get here now!"

"You listen here, you little shit! Your mother is always dying. She can get on with it, for all I care. Man up and grow a pair. I swear, I can't believe you're my kid. She should have gotten rid of you, but would she listen? No! Now, I'm going back to work. Don't call again, unless the bitch dies."

Four hours later, she did.

***

Sirens.

Police.

Running.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.