I apologize for the long wait, but unfortunately, life sucks. I'm not being a whiny teenager, this time, as yesterday I was informed that my uncle -my loving, wonderful uncle who was a father to me in ways that my own father never was- I was told he killed himself by driving his RV into a building. And because of that, I'm a mess. Understandable, right?

And I'm really sorry if you want tons and tons of new posts, but I just...I can't, okay? The only reason this is being posted, is because I had basically finished it a couple of weeks ago, and was just waiting for some time to edit and post. I'm just...withdrawing from the world for a while, because the world sucks, and fate's a fickle bitch, and I need some time.

I'll probably post something new in a few weeks, a month at the most, mostly because it'll hurt me more if I don't, but for now, I need to spend some quality time with my dear friend Hagen Daaz and Thor/Iron Man/Captain America/a bunch of other hot guys in movies that can take my mind off of this.

I'm truly sorry, and I hope this is enough to tide you over until I can return to my laptop and write.

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

commence

Picking up the drink was completely an accident, honestly. She's at a party, and the people are pressing in around her, and god, it's really damn hot, so she reaches for what she thinks is her water and sips it.

Her face screws up in surprise, though not necessarily distaste, at the strong flavor, the burning sensation, and yeah, when she was, like, twelve, she and a couple of girls from school passed a bottle of white liquor around, and she recognizes the burning in the back of her throat.

It's not really that bad, she decides, and she takes another sip.

XxXxXxX

It spirals. She fights a losing battle with the bottle, and ultimately, it, of course, wins. Soon, she's downing ten drinks a night, if not more, and generally, she doesn't pay for even one of them (she's suddenly grateful that puberty was kind to her).

She doesn't remember much, past or present, when intoxicated, and she enjoys the feeling, like the slate's been wiped clean and she's whoever the hell she wants to be. And it's sososo easy, being someone else.

Until it's not, until things start catching up to her, until she starts blacking out and fighting her way back to consciousness, just to wake up to a different strange man, every night, without fail. They're the same, all the same, same feel of their lips as they slide over her own, marking her, claiming her, ruining her a bit more every time. They rock their hips against hers, don't even notice when she cries out a little in pain when they force their way in, because she might be a drunk slut, but she's never quite gotten used to it.

She'll wake up sometimes, with a pounding in her head, and the sneaking suspicion that she's been used again, but that's fine, because she can start all over at seven, when the bar opens.

And it all blurs into one big thing, a monster that she can't slay, a train she's put into motion and can't stop.

(here's a secret between you, me, and the rest of the world– –she doesn't particularly want to)

fin

Again, I'm very sorry, and I swear, I'm not abandoning ship. Thank you for your understanding.