Breaking Down

Chapter 1:

"You look terrible."

I opened my eyes and was staring directly at a pair of dark boots inches from my face. The foot nudged me gently and I rolled over to stare up at the face it was attached to.

"Jessa, you better clean up before Mom and Dad get back." I could see my asshole brother's smug face staring down, judging me. He had always been so fucking perfect. My Mom had a whole wall of achievement devoted to him leading up the stairs to our bedrooms. I could see every award and annoying picture of his stupid face from this angle.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I groaned as I pulled myself up to my elbows.

"You have a little drool on your face." He said, pointing to the side of my cheek. I wiped at it and I could feel it crusted on the edges where it had dried. I caught a little bit on the edge of my lips and it tasted like pure salt. Nope, it wasn't drool. Fuck, I don't even remember who I went down on last night.

"I'm going to my room. If I find out anyone touched my stuff, I'm calling Mom." Jackson Miller had just turned fifteen. I would have thought his balls would have dropped by now. He was the definition of Momma's boy through and through.

"Jax, I swear. If you even attempt to call Mom, they will never find your body when I am done with you!" I screamed at him as he walked up the stairs.

I laid back down on the hardwood floor and groaned. My head was pounding. I needed another drink before it exploded. I pushed myself up and wobbled to the kitchen. There were red cups and trash scattered everywhere. I reached for a bottle on the island and polished off the last bit of liquid inside. It wasn't going to be enough to get me through the day. I would have to go charm my way into a bit more down at the liquor store. The guy who worked there liked my boobs; he usually would throw me a couple of cheap fifths for free when I flashed him and let him jerk off on them. It felt like a fair trade to me; I made him feel something so I could remember nothing.

I grabbed a roll of garbage bags out from underneath the sink and began picking up the evidence from my late-night binger with the guys from the recording studio. We were laying some tracks last night and working on another demo when I decided we should take the party back to my place. It was actually my parent's place, but no one seemed to care as long as they could get wasted.

My Mom and Dad were away visiting my Grandma in Indiana. She had gotten sick a few months back and they had been spending a lot of time there helping her out. She had a pretty big patch of land and a little old worn-down farmhouse. My Dad was trying to convince her to fix it up so she could sell it. He wanted her to move to a place where she could get more help. He and my Mom would constantly argue about it. My Mom thought my Dad was being callous for making his Mom move. I kind of was on my Dad's side on this one, which was unusual. My Dad and I never agreed on anything except how terrible today's new music was.

I continued filling up the trash bag, trying to remain focused. I had always struggled keeping my mind on one task. It was what made me a brilliant musician. The swirling thoughts that ricocheted off my brain at warp speed left music notes in my head that had to escape. I should write another song. Nope, I needed to clean first.

Priorities.

Cup. Cup. Cup. Bottle. Fork, not trash. Empty Pop-Tart wrapper, now I was hungry. Not so empty condom. I bet that was fun. Oh, wait, it was. Nevermind.

I began whistling the trash song I had just made up in my head when I heard Jax slam his bedroom door closed. His heavy feet pounded against the hardwood floor. Little dude had his panties on too tight this morning.

"That's it. You've really done it this time." Jax screamed from the top of the steps at me. He ran down the stairs into the kitchen.

He pulled his phone out and clicked a button before pressing it to his ear.

"Please don't, Jax." I begged him, knowing the phone was already ringing. "Jackson, please don't call Mom."

"Mom, you have to get home now." Jax bellowed into the phone.

"You're fucking dead!" I screamed and threw the liquor bottle at his head. He ducked and it shattered against the wall behind him. He ran from the kitchen and sprinted out the front door. I followed him out on his heels.

He began to run up the street with his boots pounding against the pavement. I took off after him in my bare feet, trying to dodge rocks and sticks as I went. This kid was going to pay for what he just did.

I was fast. I had always been fast. No one could ever catch me. I was much faster than this idiot trying to outrun me.

I tackled him down to the pavement and pulled back my fist. I punched him in his perfect little face. He pulled his arms up to block me. I knew he wouldn't try to hit me back, but I wanted to make him bleed for ratting me out. I reached my fist back to hit him again.

I heard my Mom screaming through the speaker at me to leave him alone. I was planning on stopping soon; just a couple more hits and I would feel better.

Sirens were blaring at me from down the street. They were headed in our direction. Someone must have seen what was happening and called the cops on me.

"Fuck." I screamed.

I raised my hands up over my head when I heard the cop car pull up behind us. My day had just gotten a whole lot worse.