Author's note: Don't yell at me if Roger seems slightly out of character for this particular chapter; he needs to be to keep the story going past this chapter.
Charlene was waiting up when Roger got home. "Young man, what time is your curfew?" Roger shrugged. "I didn't think you'd mind, just this once. We really didn't mean to stay out so late." Charlene gave him a withering look. "That's not what I asked." Roger glanced at the clock. Three-fifteen. "Midnight," he muttered. Charlene nodded. "And did you call and ask if you could stay out later?" Roger shrugged again, fighting to control his temper. "No, I didn't. Sorry." He turned to go upstairs, but Charlene grabbed his wrist. "Where were you?" Roger rolled his eyes. "I was out getting stoned and having sex. Isn't that what you expect of me?" Charlene backhanded him. "I don't need the attitude, Roger!" Roger saw red, and he threw a fist in his mother's direction. "I was at a funeral! Dammit, Charlene, I just buried my girlfriend!" Charlene slapped him again, harder. Roger shoved her backwards, away from him. He went to his room, grabbing his backpack and the Fender, and then went back down. "I'm not doing this right now. I'm going to crash at Collins' place for awhile. You stay away from me." He headed for the door, but glanced back. Charlene pounced, ripping the Fender from his hands and throwing it aside. Roger yelled in fury, blinking back tears of anger. The guitar lay in several pieces, and Charlene had a smug look on her face. Roger clenched his fist, drawing blood, but resisted the urge to brutally murder Charlene, instead turning and walking out the front door. Charlene screamed after him, but he ignored her. Unsure of where he was actually going, he just kind of wandered. After a while, he found himself outside of Collins' house, and after a quick mental debate, rang the doorbell. It was four-thirty in the morning, but Collins answered instantly. His face filled with confusion. "Roger? What the…what time is it?" Roger shrugged. "I have no idea. Sorry for waking you, but I need a place to crash." Collins nodded. "What'd she do this time?" Roger looked away. "I don't wanna talk about it." Collins nodded. "Right. Well, you know the drill. Mi couch es su couch. We'll try not to wake you up too early."