The wind whisked his dark hair into his piercing blue eyes framed by long dark lashes. But in his state Veron couldn’t care less, he didn’t care about a lot of things in that moment of time like; where he was or why a badly smashed up red Volvo was a mere ten feet away from his spot on the front porch of a small house. The rusty red colour of the car door seemed to have had patches of dark red, Veron thought nothing of it as he wasn’t in his right mind and his vision was quite blurred.
He looked back at the house which raised another question in his jumbled up head. He tried to stand up but failed miserably as his head felt so heavy he lost his balance and fell flat onto lush, green grass. If he were thinking straight he’d be embarrassed by the fall, especially if someone saw and then Veron would try to embarrass someone else to get unwanted attention away from himself; but because Veron wasn’t sober, he somehow found the fall amusing as he laughed obnoxiously and yelled as loud as he could “FACEPLANT!” as if someone could hear him.
After what seemed like hours for Veron, he finally rolled over on his back and tried to sit up. Twenty failed attempts later he found his back leaning against the concrete steps to the house. The tired teenager tried to get a good look at the unfamiliar area but it was too difficult to do when his heavy head would tip him over even if he leaned just a little, so he was stuck with straining his bloodshot eyes to catch a glimpse of the wasteland when something caught his eye. He assumed it was a red bush, but for just a second his eyesight was not completely fuzzy and he made out the silhouette of a girl with red hair. He chuckled to himself for mistaking their red, bushy hair for an actual bush. He also realized another thing; the redhead was sleeping in the middle of the road, or so he thought. He laughed loudly and slurred “You! Whaat are you doin sleeping on da road?” his happy mood changed to angry when the girl ignored him, no way would Veron tolerate that. He got up from porch steps this time only stumbling and trotted towards her to demand an answer. But before he could reach her his vision became dotted and he felt like a rug was pulled from beneath him as he collapsed on the road…
Hours later Veron woke to the loud sirens and flashing lights, the noise was loud like a jackhammer at work in his head and his eyelids were too heavy for him to open, the noise was so loud he thought his ears were bleeding. He felt himself being pulled up on a stretcher which added to his confusion as he tried to recollect last night’s events. Veron could only remember arriving at a party and sometime later taking his sister home early in his new red Volvo and everything after that was a blur. A flash of horror crossed his face; Adrienne, if anything happened to his precious little sister, he would never forgive himself. to his right he saw her being zipped up into a black body bag, realization hit and Veron cried what he called ‘unmanly tears’ but he didn’t care for the emotions he was now feeling were overpowering his sanity; sadness, anger, sorrow, regret and most of all guilt. How would he be able to live through it all? How’s it that Veron was the brother that shooed every boy who came to rescue his sister as her night and shining armour is the same brother that got her killed?
“She’s not dead, no it’s all a dream; a nightmare” where the words Veron used to try convince himself she was alive, but he knew without even having to pinch himself she was gone. In fact he was too scared to pinch himself because then it was proven she was dead and he may just lose it.
FLAHBACK
“C’mon Veron, get in the car now or we’ll be late!” called Vernon’s mother. He quickly ran to the car and buckled up. Veron stood in the church, enjoying every minute of the preachers sermon. His mother was so proud of her son; he was the perfect God-fearing child.
But Veron soon slipped when his father died in an airplane crash for a missionary trip and his beautiful girlfriend of three years ended their relationship in a text message expressing how she felt he loved God more than her and she was sick of being preached at. That was the same year he got addicted to alcohol.
Two months later
“Veron Dean Williams, you are hereby sentenced to seven years without parole in the Californian state prison for the manslaughter of Adrienne Christine Williams and for driving under the influence of an alcohol reading five times the legal limit. Case dismissed!” boomed the judge in a voice that could send even the toughest people to cower.
At the back of the courtroom Hayley watched her son being handcuffed with moist eyes, which was all it took for her to break into sobs, not caring who might be staring at her weirdly. She loved her daughter as much as a normal mother would and was disappointed by her son’s actions but that didn’t mean she wanted him to be trapped in jail for seven years. As her sobs became louder Veron took at glance at her with sorry eyes which only caused the poor women to go into another fit of tears.
After a gruelingly long seven years (or as it seemed for Veron) his sentence was finally fully served. Veron was a completely different person by the time he got out. When he was fifteen the only that really angered him was when someone used God’s name in vain but now he would angry over little things like when someone messed up his order at a take out.
They say ‘time heals all wounds’ and Veron tried to believe that theory but in the end he thought it was just a bunch of rubbish people use as comfort words. After many years he could still remember the day he killed her in a car crash because of his alcohol obsession and it always haunted him
During his time in prison he vowed and swore on his grave that he would never take more than a sip of alcohol ever again.
But unfortunately the temptation was too great.
“Hey Veron long time no see man, where’ve ya been?” the bartender Dave asked.
Veron was in no mood to tell the guy who only knew from buying his Jim beans from that he was doing time for drink driving, so he lied.
“I… ahh was travelling, Greece actually” Veron grumbled.
“Really I’ve always wanted to go there bu—“
“Listen Dave, I’m not paying for small talk so get me the usual.” Veron interrupted rudely, another thing that changed in him; the word empathy had no meaning anymore, well for Veron at least.
The bartender did as he was told mumbling insults under his breath.
Over the period of thirty years Veron had many run-ins with the law and found it hard to get a job so he ended up on the streets stealing money to buy beer.
His life changed from the happy, Christian family to sleeping on the streets over a bottle of jacks. he didn’t just ruin his own life but all the people who cared for him too.
Alcohol ruined his life…and many others lives.
the end
not an actual story just a short one
