AN: Hey again. Thanks for the views and special thanks to KayEff, TeenAgeRiot99 and mynameislizzie for reviewing. Go check out their stories because they're really amazing and well written!

Now, about this chapter, once again it is a smaller one because is only from one character's POV, and one I'm really not used to write about. Neverthless, I decided to risk it, so I hope you'll like it.

Have a good reading!

COOK'S POV

I was born in a fucked up family. My dad was never around and so was my mom. You may think this doesn't make sense at all, that it isn't true. Because after all, we live in the same house, she feeds me and gives me the comfort of having a roof above my head. And for a while that was enough. Having all the toys I wanted, getting to eat all kinds of trash food and sweets that I craved for as a child. But as I grew up, I started seeing things differently. I started to feel alone every time she wasn't home and eventually the shit load of privileges I had didn't fulfil my needs. Because I started to see that even though she was there physically, she wasn't really with me. She would have passed out on our couch and I was the one who had to carry her to bed every time and clean up her mess afterwards. Do you get the picture? It should be the other way; it should have been the other way when I was a little lad. Every time I fell asleep on the sofa. Or every time I had a nightmare and she would never come to my bed to hug me and make the bad big monsters go away, even though I called her over and over during night. So you may say that I had everything I wanted and needed. But it's like I say, after a while material things don't matter that much anymore, when the emotional part is lacking.

Due to that, I learned that if I distanced myself from her, it wouldn't hurt so much. Eventually it came to a point where it all became a ritual. Finding her passed out. Taking her to her room. Returning to the living room. Clean up her mess. Maybe (certainly) drink a bit of the rest she has left behind. Going to sleep with no monsters haunting me anymore.

It started to work. I began being able to shut down the voices on my head that screamed "CARE ABOUT ME!"

Eventually a new school year started and I went to a new class. I didn't want to be there, I've never liked school. Mostly because I couldn't concentrate and just be quiet. I needed to run around the whole block, I need to listen to music blasting from a stereo and I needed to drink. Anything to keep me occupied, but I decided to give it a chance this time and the fact that some of my colleagues were nice helped. Although I didn't maintain a closed relationship with them, they were enough to just take a piss at the teachers or to be gabbing about all the random girls I had shagged the previous night.

All that changed though. Enter Tony Stonem, most known player in all school. Could sweep any girl off their feet with just a little flash of his baby blues and a wink. And we must not forget to mention his voice. "Angel" voice, as all the girls in the choir would call it.

At the time I didn't believe anyone could be that good, to me it sounded like a load of bollocks, so I decided to go and introduce myself to this so called "legend".

And what I can say is, I'm fucking glad I did it! Because from that day on, I found a real friend, a good person who liked me, who cared about me. Suddenly, I didn't feel so alone. I started to look forward for another day at school, because as long as he was gonna be there, it would be alright. Then the time came when we started hanging out at each other's houses, I was shitting my pants because that mean he would probably see my mom in one of hers not so glorious moments. So we enter my house and go into the living room, and of course there lays her Majesty The Royal Fucked Up Queen. I looked at him with a nervous look expecting a bad reaction from him, and all he says is: "Shit." And proceeded to grabbing her ankles and asking me if we should drop her on her bed. All I could do was nod and follow his actions. After that we just sat on the couch and stayed there watching telly and talking shite about everything and everyone, to the point that I even forgot that my mother was passed out from drinking upstairs. It also helped that when the opportunity came for me to go to his house, I realized that his family was as fucked up as mine, and from that day onwards I knew that this fucker wouldn't judge me for the kind of family I had or for my erratic behaviour, so I let down my walls and after a while I started to do it with more people I would get to know. His girlfriend Michelle, his sister Effy and my sweet Cassie. My two most favourite twins, ma blondie Naomi and her loveable idiot of a brother Nathan. These are my people, we are stuck like glue to each other. So I thought: "My life is good. I've finally the family I craved for. I have people I love who love me back. I've never been so happy."

But I should know that all the good things never last for too long, because Cook being Cook could never deserve so much happiness.

I was having a fine day, had been hanging out with Tony, Michelle and some friends of hers. It was going good. Then I got home and noticed I had received a letter, all posh with a golden envelope and a red seal. That could only mean a thing, it had come from the Royal City. So I opened it and read it:

"Citizen by the name James Cook,

We the Royal Family are writing this letter to inform that it is with great pride that you have been selected by our Legal Office to take part in the War that is to come next year. You will start fulfilling your duty by attending training sessions starting the following month. These are mandatory. If you do not follow this order you will be punished by exile. In only a case of any disabilities (physically or psychologically) will you be released from your duty. If that is the case you shall present yourself at our Legal Office address, written at the back of this letter.

If that is not the case, then you must present yourself on the first day of the next month, at the Royal Training Camp, where we will be anxiously waiting for your presence.

With our family's best regards,

The Royal Family."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! It can't be… Why?! Fucking why?! This is bullshit! Why me? What kind of fucked up idea is this? War?! Who do hell runs this place?!

That was my reaction, my instant reaction. When I eventually calmed down and the rage subsided, I only had one thought, "I need to get trashed".

I know it sounds a bit ironic, me complaining about an alcoholic mother and then following the same path. I think that at this moment in my life I understand her more than I've ever have. So to hell with it. What's the matter? After all I am being sent to death anyway, a few drinks won't do much difference.

So the next morning came and I woke up with my head hurting as if I had smashed it into a brick wall, which I probably did (it wouldn't be the first time). But this time it was different. It wasn't only from the drugs and the alcohol. It wasn't only for having a bad night of sleep (or lack of it). No. This time it hurt more, the pain was coming from deep inside of me. From a place where it hadn't appeared in a long time by now. The pain of loneliness was back, the fear of being left out, of being forgotten. I like to consider myself as a brave and strong man, but this War, this duty I now have to fulfil, it reduced me to the little boy inside of me who still screamed, "WHY ME? WHY ALL THE BAD THINGS COME TO ME?" And once more I need to fight the big bad monsters, only now the difference is that these monsters have become real in the form of loss, death, violence, fear, injustice and rage.

And they're getting stronger each day that passes and the days for the next month get shorter.

So the deal to cope is drinking and drugs. But these are only keeping me far from my family, and maybe that's the point. Because that way it won't hurt so much when I'm there in the field fighting for myself alone. For that I act like I don't give a fuck, like I don't care about other people's feelings. But I got to say, the other day when I was rude to Naomi and Emily, it hurt like fucking hell. I don't know if I can keep this facade anymore.

AN: That's it, I hope you liked it. Opinions = Reviews , feel free to do it. See you next time :)