Page 8 of Toxic Wishes

Brooks played the drums, and Duke and Edison were the bassists. Duke not only could play the guitar, but he was the one who made us sound awesome when he worked his magic behind the scenes at his studio. His parents were wealthy, so they bought him everything he needed to pursue his music career. My dad, on the other hand, thought I was wasting my time. He wanted me to follow in my beloved bro’s footsteps and work hard to become a football player. I was built like all the Killian men in my family, tall and good-looking, but I wasn’t an athlete; I don’t know how Abigail nailed it on the head, but I liked to escape, and music was my way of getting lost. There is something about music that makes you lose yourself. It’s almost as good as drugs, almost.

I look over at my phone and see a text from Abigail.

Hey, I just made up a new chorus on the violin. It’s pretty badass!

You just came up with it?

You haven’t met my cousins. They take forever to get ready.

Well, their lack of time comes in handy then.

Lol. My sister is driving me. Would it be cool if she and my cousins hung out with us? She is my ride since I don't have a car.

Abs, I told you I can bring you home.

Um, you will be intoxicated by the time I get there? Besides, my parents are forcing my sister to come and keep an eye on me, so she may not be in the best mood. This is just a heads-up.

No worries, we’ll have plenty of time to cheer her up—winky face.

Good, she needs it. Lol

Abigail and I have become somewhat friends over the past couple of weeks. We don’t talk much; we mostly play or listen to music, so I figured a party would be necessary to get to know one another. How else can we grow as a band if we aren’t in sync with our thoughts and souls?

The more, the merrier. I dig orgies, by the way.

Angry emoji face.

I know she mentioned she had a ton of cousins, but I wasn’t sure how much older they were than her. She said they grew up together but grew apart once she turned fifteen since they would start college soon, plus she said they all had boyfriends. She also had an older sister who isn’t boy-crazy like her cousins. She said her sister is a little cooler, but we’ll see about that.

As I finished getting ready, my phone rang. When I looked at the screen to see who it was, I ignored it. I know Colt wanted to talk about what happened this morning, but he doesn't want me to have a relationship with my dad. It’s bad enough my mom didn’t want anything to do with me, now he wants Dad all to himself.

Fuck him.

He could have football all to himself, but he needed to share with Dad. I could care less about that damn sport anyway. All Colt tells me to do is practice, eat, work out, and make sure I do my homework. It’s easy for him to say. He likes doing that shit. I don't. I enjoy creating music.

Besides, he’s built for football. I’m not. He’s solid and thick, naturally. Everyone I met always asked me if he took steroids. Sometimes, I wanted to say yes just to taint his perfect reputation, but I figured, what’s the point? Everyone already thought he was a God. And you can’t bring someone down who’s already that high up on a pedestal. But when I take the stuff my dad gives me, it’s like I want to run, fight, and lift weights. It’s like cocaine but ten times more potent. And it makes me horney as fuck. My hormones are already raging as is, but this stuff makes me want to fuck all night. I know Abigail is a virgin, so I’ll have to drink to help numb my urge, but man, all I can hope is she shows up in some nerdy clothing like she always does.

My phone rings again. I curse into the air and pick it up so he won’t call me all night.

“What?” I say with agitation.

“Are you using?” Colt says.

“Well, hello to you too, brother.”

“I’m serious, Blake; I hope you aren't using, not after you almost died.”

“ I figured you would be happy, so you no longer have to worry about babysitting me.”

“Blake, stop. That’s not true. I wouldn’t be calling if that was the case. I know Dad is out of town, and I’m not home this weekend, so you think it’s okay to do what you want.”

“Isn’t that what being a teenager is all about? And it’s good to know it took my heart to stop for you to give a shit?”

“Fuck!” he shouts into the phone. “That’s not fair, Blake, cut me some slack. I’m doing the best I can. I was dealt a shitty hand too. He’s both our dad’s, but I’m just trying to make the best of it, and every time I talked to Dad, he acted like we were doing great and told me you are starting to like football now.”

“Ya, I am. Thanks to a little help.” Called drugs.

“What does that mean?”

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