Chapter Fourteen

Joey Deline sighed as he pulled the nylon stocking that was using as a makeshift tourniquet tighter on his forearm. Watching his veins stick out always gave him a trashy thrill. Reaching for the syringe on his nightstand, he held it up to the light and flicked it once to make sure that there were no bubbles. Lining the needle up with his vein, he slowly pushed the contents into his bloodstream.

"Joey?"

Joey quickly pulled the needle out of his arm and tried to get the nylon stocking untied. Cursing his tying it tight, he was too late as his father walked into the room.

Staring at his son in shock, Ed's eyes scanned the room, seeing the needle on the table, the nylon tied to the arm of his son and the look of panic on the young man's face. Walking into the room, Ed began to tear it apart.

"Dad," Joey said, standing up from his bed. Walking over to his father, he tried to step between Ed and his closet and was met by a forceful throw onto his bed as Ed threw open the doors and began to tear the clothes from the hangers.

"Where is it?" he demanded angrily.

"Where's what?" Joey asked.

"That shit you shoot into your arm, the poison you inject in your body," Ed said. Slamming the door to the closet, he went over to the dresser and pulled the drawer out with so much force, it came off the track. Stumbling back onto the bed, Ed emptied the contents of the drawer and then froze when he saw the pieces of mirror and bags of white powder and marijuana.

"Dad," his son said quietly, "it isn't what you think."

"It isn't what I think?" Ed asked, his voice frighteningly low, "Than tell me what it is, Joseph. Tell me what it is when I walk in on my son removing a needle from his arm and I find bags of what looks to be heroin and weed in his dresser?"

At a loss for words, Joey simply hung his head and sighed.

Enraged, Ed stepped over the dresser drawer and grabbed his son by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Staring into his eyes, his own blue eyes flickered with anger and disappointment, "What the fuck has gotten into you!" Pausing, he scanned his son's face before saying, "I want you to pack your shit and leave. You are no longer welcome in this house."

Swallowing hard, the younger man looked at his father, "Dad, please, I'm sorry."

"Don't call me 'dad'!" Ed spat, "I'm not your father, not anymore. My son would never do this. He would never put us to shame. I think about all the times I fed you, changed you, bathed you, played with you, helped you with your homework... my god, your mother and I did everything for you and this is how you repay us? You are pathetic!"

Hearing the commotion from the bedroom, Jillian raced down the hall and stopped when she saw her husband slam their son against the wall. "What on earth is going on in here?" She demanded as she looked between her husband and son.

"Our son is a junkie," Ed declared before pushing the man back and storming out of the room.

Stunned, Jillian watched as her husband pushed past her and made his way downstairs. Looking into the room, she spotted the drugs on the bed and looked at her son, horrified, "Joey," she said softly, her eyes brimming with tears.

Unable to look at his mother, Joey simply kept his head down.

Sighing deeply, Jillian said, "I want you to get everything and put it in a bag, and I mean everything. Believe me when I tell you that your father and I will go through this room with a fine tooth comb." Walking over to the dresser, she grabbed the car keys and held them in her hand, "And you are grounded until further notice."

Turning on her heel, Jillian walked out of the room and went downstairs. Finding her husband in the kitchen having a drink, she sighed softly as she set the keys on the kitchen counter. "He's bringing everything down," she said softly as she sat down at the breakfast nook.

"Trust me," Ed said as he reached for the bottle of scotch and poured himself another double, "It won't be everything."

"I told him we'd go through that room with a fine tooth comb, Ed," she said quietly. Sighing softly, she added, "I wish you wouldn't drink."

Ignoring his wife's last statement, he said, "He's out of here."

"Ed," Jillian said quietly, "Where's he going to go?"

Shaking his head, Ed said, "I really don't give a damn, Jillian. Let him hang out with his junkie friends, maybe they can all get busted stealing a car or something. I won't have drugs in my house."

Sighing again, she rose to her feet and walked up behind him and pressed her face into his back, "We are going to get through this, Eddie," she said softly, "we have to."

"Christ," Ed said as he walked away. Pacing the room, he opened his mouth to speak, but found he couldn't formulate a sentence. Grabbing the glass he was just drinking out of, he threw it to the wall, shattering it. Seething in anger, he continued to prowl the room like a caged animal, finally coming to a stop at his wife. Looking at her, his blue eyes implored her, "Where did we go wrong?" he whispered softly.

"I don't know," she sighed as she went over to him and hugged him, tears falling. "I just pray that we can get through to him and help him get straightened out."

"I'm flying blind here, Jillian," he whispered softly as he hugged her. Swallowing hard, he sighed, "I'm flying blind."

As the two stood in the kitchen holding each other, a gun shot echoed through the house.

"Oh my god!" Jillian screamed as she started upstairs.

"No, no!" Ed said, following his wife upstairs. Halfway up the steps, Ed heard his wife scream louder than he's ever heard her scream before as she collapsed against the wall in a wave of tears. Stumbling towards the bedroom, Ed dared himself to look in and felt physically ill at the sight of his son on the bed, his eyes opened wide, a smoking gun laying next to him. Looking up at the wall, Ed saw the crimson splatter of blood. "Oh god," he said as he rushed over to where his son laid.

Gripping the wall, Jillian stood as still as a statue, her face blanched as shock overcame her.

"Call an ambulance," Ed said, not looking up as he tried to mop the blood up with a sweatshirt he found on the floor. Not hearing a sound from his wife, he looked up for the first time and saw her. Standing up, he went over and led her into the bedroom and sat her down on the bed. With a trembling hand, Ed reached for the phone and dialed 911.

"Yes, I need an ambulance right away," he said into the phone, his entire body shaking, "30290 Vista View Court," he said, "And hurry! My son has just shot himself." Hanging up the phone, he looked at his wife, "Stay here, honey," he ordered as he ran back towards Joey's room.

"Oh my god," Ed said when he reached the room again. Carefully walking in, he stepped over to the bed and looked down at his son, whispering softly as his tears fell, "You didn't have to do this son," he said as he placed his hand on his son's face. Swallowing hard, Ed's eyes drifted up as he ran his hand down his son's face, closing his son's eyes, "we could have gotten you help."

"We need to call Delinda..." Jillian said softly from the doorway, her face red from tears. "And your mother."

Ed nodded mutely as his wife came into the room carrying a wet towel. Walking over to the wall, she began to scrub the blood off it, "I have to get this off the wall, it'll stain and I don't want that to happen."

"Sweetheart," Ed said softly as he went up behind her. Gently placing his hands on her shoulders, he reached around in front of her and tried to remove the sponge from her hands. "We can do this later."

Turning around, Jillian looked at her husband, "You did this," she accused softly, "you said all that horrible stuff to him!"

Stunned at the accusation, Ed looked at her, "Don't do this, Jillian," he said softly, stepping backwards. "Don't blame me for being the parent who found out his kid does dope and other crap."

"You told him that he put us to shame, Ed!" Jillian yelled. "You called him pathetic!"

"I was angry!" Ed roared back. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, "We are not doing this. We are absolutely not fucking doing this! We are not having a fight over our dead son's body and throwing blame at each other!"

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Jillian heard the doorbell and ran downstairs and let the paramedics in. "He's upstairs," she directed.

Hearing the sounds of footsteps bounding upstairs, Ed stepped out of the room so the paramedics could get to Joey. Watching them work on his son, Ed said, unceremoniously, "He's dead."

Glancing up, one of the paramedics looked at Ed and then nodded, "Yeah," he confirmed. Standing up, he said, "May I use a phone?"

Nodding silently, Ed led him down the hall to the bedroom. Watching in silence, he heard the paramedic ask for a coroner. Walking out of the room, Ed went over and sat down on the bottom step and put his head in his hands as he choked out his sobs.