Miles watched as drops of water slid down the amber-brown mug he was clutching in his hand. The smell of alcohol and molasses filled his nostrils, making him feel relaxed and tranquil. Rum was without a doubt his favorite booze. It didn't hurt that his dad always had some sitting on the bar by the pool, and Miles had stolen bottle after bottle. But now that he was older, Miles had stopped the petty theft and bought it himself, with his fake ID of course. He took a long sip, the drink burning in his throat, but he didn't care. The recent fight he had with his dad was the reason he was drinking so heavily in the first place. He didn't want to be this way though. He didn't want to be the man-whore who went hooking up with every girl and getting drunk at every party he went to (including his own). But the purple bruise on his back said otherwise, reminding him that his father was at fault here; he had lied to Miles and manipulated him for "good press". And when Miles tried to stand up for himself, what did he get? Thrown into the wall! And on top of that, his siblings defended their dad. What was it Frankie said? "You two are pretty much exactly alike." He sighed. He hated being compared to his father; it was like the worst comment he had ever received. When Tristan had said, "You manipulated me," Miles' heart had broken into a million tiny pieces. The irony was Miles was the one who had just been manipulated and them turned around and did the same daunting thing to the one person he truly cared about. Stupid! How could he mess up yet another potentially good relationship for himself?! Was he just a ticking time bomb, ready to self destruct at any second? He certainty felt that way. Though he wished it wasn't true, part of his dad could bee seen through his recent actions. The young boy gritted his teeth in agony. He did not want to be like his father and he certainly didn't want his friends and family to think of him in the same ways. But he felt like there was nothing he could do; it was like a self-fulfilling prophecy that he had no power to stop. Sometimes when he was in a heated argument and shouting ugly words, he felt his father's menacing, silky voice pour out of him. He felt trapped, with no way to overcome his inner turmoil. No mattered how hard he tried, he was always going to be like his dad. No matter how much he wished it wasn't true, there would also be a small part of his father inside him, and it was growing every day.

As the night went on, Miles drank more and more, slowly losing himself to the hard liquor. He had one more sip left in his mug and then he would stop he told himself. Miles sighed and took one last long gulp of the beverage, choking back tears as it burned his throat. He used to enjoy drinking, but lately he only did it as a way to escape reality. Sometimes Miles would sneak off to get high or drunk just so he could avoid his dad. Deep down he knew this wasn't the best or mature way of handling things, but it was a temporally fix that worked. As he lowered the mug to the ground, a bright white beam of light was suddenly reflected through the glass. Miles gasped and quickly looked up, the same circular shape loaming in the clear night sky. What the hell was that thing? He stumbled to his feet, struggling to keep his balance from the alcohol. Was he imagining this or was it real? Was he high? Drunk? Both? He grasped his head in pain, trying to block out the massive headache he felt coming on. He closed his eyes, trying to remain calm. He was obviously seeing things; it was late, and he had gone through a full bottle of rum, which was more than enough booze to mess with his sight. When I open my eyes, that weird light thing will be gone and I can go get some rest he said to himself. He took a deep breath, and slowly opened his eyes, only to find himself staring at the same obscure object in the sky. What the hell is that thing?! Miles rubbed his eyes just to make sure he wasn't dreaming, but it was still there. If anything, it looked like it had gotten bigger. Was it… no he thought to himself. It couldn't be. There was no way. It just wasn't possible. But the young teen couldn't help but wonder… was a UFO?

Suddenly, he was running (more like stumbling and clutching onto various pieces of furniture so as not to trip and fall over). Gasping for breath, he finally made it into the living room where Frankie and Hunter were watching a movie. He slowly made his way over to his siblings, but then came up with an idea. He smiled to himself.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into watching The Notebook," Hunter complained.

"it's a classic!" Frankie argued.

"Whatever, but I still don't get why-"

"Hey guys!" Miles shouted from behind the couch.

"Ahhhhh! Miles!" Frankie cried, clutching her chest in fear.

"Really?" his younger brother mumbled, clearly irritated.

"You guys are too easy," the older brother grinned, laughing at his sister's petrified expression.

Frankie glared at him for a moment, but then rolled her eyes and turned back to the movie.

"What is that smell?!" Hunter suddenly cried out.

Frankie whirled around, confused until she got a whiff of the strong booze. "Miles, have you been drinking?!"

"Huh?" he asked, looking around him, trying to remember why he had come back inside in the first place.

"Have you been drinking?" she repeated, her eyes staring into his soul.

"Nooooooo-wait, yes?" he replied, barely suppressing a giggle.

"Yep, you're drunk," Hunter stated, shaking his head at his older brother. "You're lucky mom and dad aren't home."

"Phepf," Miles said dismissively, waving his hands in the air as if he was trying to swat a fly. "Wait," he said, trying to recall what he wanted to say to the twins. "Never mind," he said, then burst into a fit of laughter.

"Shh! We're trying to watch!" Frankie complained, looking at her older brother sternly.

Miles frowned, mumbling to himself. God he was so drunk. "WAIT!" he shouted, suddenly remembering what he wanted to say. "I saw a UFO! I saw a UFO! There's a UFO outside!"

"Yah right Miles," Hunter said sarcastically.

"No!" Miles whined, pointing towards the door. "I saw it! I did! Its right outside!" he cried, suddenly grabbing Hunter's arm, trying to get him off the couch.

Angrily, he shouted, "Cut it out! There is no UFO outside, okay? You're drunk! Anyone within a mile radios could smell the rum on your lips."

Silence. Miles stared at the ground, scratching his head. He was sure he had seen a UFO… or had it been a big ball of cheese? A volleyball? Confused, he slowly started to walk away, only to bang his knees into the edge of the coffee table.

"Woah, Miles, be careful!" Hunter cried, getting up to help his older brother.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm-" Miles slurred, grabbing the remote off the table, inspecting it with great interest.

"Maybe we should help him to bed," Frankie whispered to Hunter. He nodded, grabbing the remote out of his hand and placing it back on the table. Frankie quickly got up from the couch and helped Hunter guide Miles up the stairs to his room. It was a bit of a struggle to get him to actually walk up the steps, but eventually they managed, the two of them relentlessly pulling at his arms, tugging at his sleeves, anything to get him to comply.

"Well," Hunter sighed as he collapsed back on the couch. "That was-"

"Exhausting?" Frankie offered, curling up next to her twin.

Hunter nodded in agreement, staring off into space, dead tired.

"Do you think he really saw a UFO?" Frankie wondered out loud.

Hunter looked back at his sister, then said, "I doubt it. I mean, you saw how intoxicated he was.

"Yah, you're probably right."

Hunter grinned. "'Course I'm right,"

Frankie rolled her eyes at his smugness then threw a pillow at him.

"Hey!" he cried, totally caught off card by the unexpected attack.

She grinned, then though another directly at his face.

"Ok, this means war," Hunter declared, grabbing more pillows.

"Oh, it's on," she grinned, hopping over the couch, ducking in just enough time as yet another pillow went sailing over her head, crashing into the flower vase instead.

"Shit," Hunter said, looking at the scattered pieces of pottery on the floor.

"Oh, you are so dead!" Frankie teased, laughing at him.

"Shut up!"

The twin's war continued, pillows flying back and forth, countless pieces of furniture destroyed while the eldest Hollingsworth sibling slept soundly, dreaming of UFO's.