Oh! Thanks for the public service announcement about what not to do in college, Mr. Eighteen-year-old-frat-boy-with-eleventy-billion-'serious'-girlfriends-under-his-belt! Get in the fucking car. You're a mean drunk. You haven't seen me mean, mama's boy!I told you we're close!Yeah, so are me and my asshole! Doesn't mean I'm going to call it twice a day!You're a bitch! Take. Me. Home. I'd love to, if you'd get in the fucking car!
Losing Abby wasn't a story I remembered from early childhood--it was in my face, debilitating me like a sickness, robbing me of my senses and physically, excruciatingly painful. My mother's words echoed in my ear. Abby was the girl I had to fight for, and I went down fighting. None of it was ever going to be enough.
I stumbled into the living room, and Thomas handed me a bottle of whiskey. They all had some in a glass"You told them?" I asked Trenton, my voice broken. Trenton nodded.I collapsed to my knees, and my brothers surrounded me, placing their hands on my head and shoulders for support.