Page 27 of Give Me Redemption

I wouldn’t consider myself a drug addict. I’d consider myself a person who prefers to numb the pain. I put the bag back into my pocket, make sure my nose is clean, and walk out of the bathroom.

I grab two beers from the fridge and walk up to my old bedroom.

It’s weird when you come back to your childhood home. You’re different, but the house remains the same. I’ve lived a thousand lives it feels like.

I walk in and sit down on the bed, looking over at the desk where I used to do my homework. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life back then. Pops was pressuring me to go to college, but school was never my thing. Bryce went, though, and succeeded, just like he does in everything.

I remember sitting over there trying to figure it out, and now here I sit having zero answers just like I did then. I sniff again and down the first beer before I twist the top off the second. I sigh and walk over to the desk, running my finger over my name that I carved into it with a pocketknife.

“We’re all grown up now, boy. We’ve seen too much and it fucking hurts.”

____________

The family’s all here when I walk into the kitchen and Aunt Lou looks at Bryce and me. “How are my boys?” she asks.

“Mighty fine, Lou,” I respond with a smile and tip my beer in her direction. I’m feeling the high from the cocaine and the warmth from that first beer. I haven’t eaten and it’s showing.

She looks at me. “You behaving?”

“Now, you know I am.” I take a big sip of my beer.

“Don’t get drunk before you eat,” Emily scolds.

“No one gets drunk off beer,” I reply with a smirk before I toss the empty bottle and open the fridge.

“You heard her.” Pops comes in from the back porch. I could smell his cigar before I heard his voice. He still sounds scary when he uses that tone. I turn around as Uncle Monnie says, “Well, there’s my brother.” Monnie’s a big man with an even bigger belly. Red cheeks and always smiling, just like me.

I love the man.

He’s Pops’ brother and Aunt Lou’s husband. He owns a small diner in Atlanta that serves the best breakfast food you can get.

Those chain restaurants don’t have shit on him.

“Give me one of those, my boy,” he says to me. I hand him mine before grabbing another, feeling Bryce’s eyes on me.

“Relax, brother. This is only my second one.” I sniff, not thinking before I do, and Bryce narrows his eyes at me.

Fuck.

I avert mine, but it’s too late. He knows I’m high, and I feel even shittier, but no one will ever know about the self-hate I feel. It’s a blackness that took over my soul, and I can’t seem to fight it away no matter how hard I try.

I take my seat beside Bryce, and he leans over while everyone is talking amongst themselves.

“Not another goddamn line, you hear me?” he says.

His tone pisses me off. He forgets himself once again that I’m grown. I’m not the little boy I used to be, and he isn’t my fucking father.

I bring my beer to my lips. “Just enjoying the day, Bryce.”

“And I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass if you piss Pops off or disappoint Emily after she’s cooked this meal.”

Really?Me disappoint her? Does he not remember all the times he came home drunk and got sick only for her to take care of him?

“That’s your job,” I retort before I can stop myself.

He shifts his head back. “You wanna elaborate on that?”

I lift a brow. “Like you were the picture of perfection growing up.”

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