My fist slammed down into Jack's face over and over again. It was for him being a user and humiliating me. It was for being a manipulating narcissistic sociopathic con-man, and not caring who he abuses, as long as it doesn't affect his bottom line. It was for the times he never returned my calls, and ignored my messages, and refused to explain himself. It was for all the times he led me on and made me think he wanted to be in my life. It was for him taking so many photos of fucking Kiara when I remember the one time I asked him to take a photo of me with my board after I'd won a surfing competition, he told me he was "busy" and had to get to work, and it was time to leave. It was for the times he told me I didn't matter, and that I was persona non grada. I kept punching him and punching him, and in the background, I could hear the faint sound of Kiara asking him to take another picture of her, and then I could hear all his other bimbos congregating in a corner somewhere. I kept punching him harder and harder, then his face turned into my own. I was punching myself. I was punching myself for falling for his crap. I punched myself for letting him manipulate me. I punched myself for being cursed to have ever known him. I punched myself for ever thinking things could change. I punched myself for ever having cared. I was out of breath, and as I pulled my hand back, it was covered in blood.

I woke out of breath and gasping. My face was covered in sweat, and my heart was pounding like a storm. That was the worst dream of my life. I ran my hand down my face glad it was over. The room was still too dark, and I was afraid of the images I'd see if I closed my eyes again. Half asleep, I stumbled out of bed and headed for the liquor cabinet in the suite. I could find it with my eyes closed, but that didn't stop me from banging into about a million things on the way there.

"Fuck!" I yelled out as I knocked into the bar stool. Angrily I picked it up and tossed it. I got to the cupboard now and pulled out whatever was in there. I pulled the cap off some Jack Daniels and down my throat it went, but when the name on the bottle "Jack" stared back at me I tossed it across the room as well. I reached for the other stuff, the good hard stuff.

My face was being slapped now over and over.

"McKay, McKay wake yo ass up boy."

I swatted the hand away, and that's when my eyes opened to find my friend Henry the cook hanging over me. Henry was the head chef at the Bel Age, and almost every night he sends free meals up to the room for me, just because he thinks I'm a good kid.

"Get off me," I gurgle, and then I'm puking on the suite carpet.

"Look at you McKay you're a freaking mess."

I puke some more. I don't even have time to grab a wastebasket.

Finally, it stops a bit, and I lean back against the bar, wiping some throw up off my chin with my shirt.

"Yeah, well I could say the same about your dinner specials," I manage to crack in between a coughing fit.

"I left some food by the door for you last night. When I was delivering some trays up here this morning, I noticed it was still sitting by the door nice and cold, so I grabbed a key card, and let myself in. Glad I did because I've never seen you this bad."

"I'm fine." I try to get up, but I just wobble to the side.

"Henry grabs a wastebasket, and kneels down beside me.

"Is it yo daddy kid? I haven't exactly seen Mr. McKay around lately. He getting himself into more trouble?"

Henry knows Jack's never around. We've had some conversations. He noticed me always ordering food for one up to the suite. Given that I'm still under eighteen he almost called child protective services on Jack, until I begged him not to. Who knows what the hell Jack and his goons are capable of.

"It's not Jack." I lie. "I'm under control."

"I don't think so kid, you still attending those meetings? If I was you I'd get yo' butt to one before yo' daddy gets back. I don't think he'd like to see you all messed up like this."

"I'm good Henry." I try to assure him, as I swallow back some puke. "You got any French Toast?"

Henry smirks at me and then manages to leave me some food, and black coffee before heading back downstairs.

I eye the puke on the carpet, the thrown bottle of Jack Daniels, and the tossed bar stool. There's also a collection of empty bottles on the bar counter. No problem here.

#

"My name's Dylan and I'm an alcoholic." The words tumble out of my mouth like nothing. I'm mumbling them to myself at my locker this morning. Maybe if I keep saying it to myself and not just at meetings I'll start sticking with the program a little better. I guess I'm still partially drunk, but at least I had the decency to catch a cab to school this morning instead of driving myself. I lean back against my locker and close my eyes, when I open them I'm startled to see that girl striding by my locker. That girl. The one who was reading at the bench. I catch her as she's throwing her head back laughing at something. She seems to be moving through some kind of fog in my brain. I take her in, and watch the way her hair shakes down her back as she laughs, and the way her eyes light up like a sun in the middle of the dank hallway. She's actually walking with Kelly Taylor and Donna Martin of all people. I eye her some more, curious as fuck as she goes down the hall. Who is she?

"So I heard you scored on Michelle last night. Nice job dude."

I'm interrupted watching mystery girl to find Steve Sanders standing next to me now, grinning at me proudly.

"What?" I ask pissed off he killed the moment.

"You and Michelle Abrams, everyone's talking about it."

"Talking about what?"

"Ouch, no good huh? Well sometimes even the hot ones need a little breaking in, if you know what I mean," Sanders laughs.

I wonder why he's even standing here. "Beat it Sanders," I say rubbing my temples together. I give him my best get the fuck out of here face. Luckily Steve decides it's in his best interests to leave.

"Dude don't take it out on me, if she sucked there's plenty of fish in the sea if ya know what I mean." Sanders starts talking in a bad Italian accent as he taps me on the shoulder and walks off smugly. That's when I see Michelle coming out of a class, and we catch eyes. She glares at me, then smirks happily as she throws her backpack over her shoulder and struts off.

I get it now. Michelle must have told everyone we fucked to make herself feel better about last night. Sometimes girls do that around here. There's been so many times when all I did was hang out with a chick, and then suddenly it's all over school that we did it. Whatever. I don't give a shit. If it makes Michelle feel better what the fuck do I care.

Instead of chasing after Michelle I look back in the direction of Mystery Girl, but she's long gone.

#

Hours later after sobering up, I'm sitting in my car at the beach. I can't stop staring at the ocean. I wish I could just walk on water and not sink to the bottom. The ocean is really the only place that feels like home to me. If I could I'd stay here all day. Maybe I should start. Fuck school. It's not doing much for me anyway. Maybe the only thing that stops me is that I know I wouldn't last out here too long without any human contact. As much as I want to isolate myself, I know it only makes things worse.

My thoughts drift to my mother and I wonder what her life is like in Hawaii. We haven't spoken in so long. I wonder if she ever thinks of me. I start to write in my journal and read the words aloud in my head as I write them.

As at home as I feel by the ocean it confuses me too. How can I be surrounded by so much beauty but still feel so alone?

I look down at the words, and they seem to be burning a hole right through the page. Maybe I'm still wasted, or maybe my mind's just playing tricks on me.

Hi guys so I know this was a short chapter, but I wanted to give you guys something. Thank you to those of you looking forward to my chapters. I really love getting inside Dylan's head. I feel like his inner voice just talks to me. Lots more coming up. Dylan is finally going to meet Brandon, and I'm planning to give you all those extra extra moments we wanted to see on the show but didn't get to.