After That Time, chocolate milk used to be the only thing that could calm him down after a nightmare. Usually in tears, he would run to the fridge and guzzle it down straight from the carton in the dark, still trembling and a bit sweaty from the terror that had plagued his dreams. That brown stuff always worked like a charm, chasing away his fears and allowing him to get a few more hours of sleep. And if the Cullen household was devoid of the creamy substance, he could forget about going back to bed.

When he was twelve, though, he found a better way to get through his past that wouldn't stop becoming his present. The day of his mother's birthday, he found a homeless man who always carried a carton of beer with him. On a whim, and desperate to make the hurt go away, he snatched a bottle and ran. He had gotten beaten up badly that day, but the man had eventually passed out, and the bruised and bloody Edward found what he was looking for.

Chocolate milk never, not once, soothed him again.

Edward supposed he knew he had a drinking problem when he sold the presents he had received for his thirteenth birthday for beer money. And when he traded the shoes on his feet for a bag of weed five miles from home, he began to wonder if That Time had messed him up more than he had thought.

It wasn't his fault, though. All of his nightmares about That Time had fused into one, and he knew without a doubt that he would kill himself if he didn't have something to dull the pain.

He hadn't known why that had happened. He had mused over it when he was fourteen and had come to the conclusion that it was God's way of ruining his life. He already hated God for letting That Time happen, so it was very easy to blame it on the guy.

And then he grew up. And realized that there was no God. And didn't care anymore just why he had The Dream. And figured he deserved it.

Edward wanted nothing more than his pain medication and some earplugs. His head was pounding in time with the beat of his heart. And given that his heart was beating rather fast due to the excessive amount of toxins in his system, it made for a rather painful lecture. The newly single Ms. Howard's nasally, high-pitched voice didn't help, either.

His principal had been droning on and on about what he had done; how he was the most despicable student of Forks High, how he was a complete imbecile, how he should be expelled. Now that he was relatively sober, he realized that he had made a rather big mistake, even by his standards. He certainly didn't need a stupid principal to tell him what a bad person he was. He already knew that.

The anger inside of him swelled, a burning sludge that threatened to overtake him, make him do something he knew he'd regret. But he wouldn't let it show, couldn't. To be angry would be akin to being like Him. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he plastered a calm and indifferent mask upon his face, and thought of a way to make her stop. A ghost of a smile—he never smiled now, really—formed on his face as he decided to prey on her insecurities.

"Of all the idiotic things you could do, Edward! In all my years of teaching, I—"

"You could really use a good waxing, Mary. For a moment, I thought that thing above your lip was moving! And I hope for the sake of humanity that your insurance covers plastic surgery." In mock curiosity, he craned his neck forward to stare at the women behind the oak desk. "Is that your mole, or are you growing a second head?" He enjoyed Ms. Howard's reaction as she reached her hand up to feel her beauty mark. "Really, Mary, you ought to be taking care of yourself better. No wonder your last husband left you. You aren't going to keep a guy looking like that."

As the last words left his mouth, Edward felt much better. The sludge had retreated, had gone back to wherever the hell it stayed when he wasn't treated like a piece of shit. Leaning back in the uncomfortable chair, he triumphantly smirked. His smile faltered as he looked at her. He felt the slightest twinge of guilt when he saw her humiliated face, saw her struggling not to cry, saw the blood on her lip where she had bitten through.

God, he was just like Him.

He screamed. And then he ran.

Quite short, but hopefully acceptable.

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