Fixing You (Complete)

Chapter 1: Drowning in Booze

A/N: Dedicated to IsaSecret for the amazing cover! Go to her, she's an amazing cover maker. Anyhoo, check out the first chapter of Fixing You! It's the first, so bear with me people. Please comment, and if you like it, votes are always appreciated! Feedback is encouraged and welcomed!

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Chapter 1

Once again, I headed to the restroom to get ready for school. For a second, I admired myself in the mirror. My long red hair fell around my shoulders and the small of my back. I had hazel eyes that changed color in the light, and light tan skin. I had always resembled my father more than my mother. We had the same facial features, same personality. Observing myself in the mirror made me think of my father and how much I missed him. He had died in the war five years ago.

He never wanted to be in the army, but we were low on money. It came to the point where we couldn't even pay the bills, so he decided to go, hoping to bring in some cash and send it to us when ever he could. My father was a brave man, and my best friend. He loved me, and at the time, so did my mother. When he would visit, he would always tell me stories about the war, which fascinated me at the time of my young age. But everything went downhill since he left.

We didn't have enough money coming in, even with my job at the nearest Chick-fil-a. I ended up having to work to get another job on top of working at Chick-fil-a. Times were hard for my mother and I, and I knew she was stressed. Later in the year, I got laid off, leaving me with my only other job at a movie theater just down the street from our house.

The money wasn't enough, so our house became foreclosed. It was a tough time for the both of us, but especially me. I felt like what I did wasn't good enough, and apparently, it wasn't.

We were homeless then, forced to live on the street. For long, we lived under the bridge over by Hansen street. It was always noisy and I could never get sleep. Most times, since I was awake, I went in search of the lake to wash off the excess filth my body seemed to carry throughout the day. Sometimes I'd walk to the bus stop and sleep on the bench if trying to sleep on the hard gravel road became difficult. I didn't go to school during that period. Couldn't afford it. But then a miracle happened.

A man came up to me, awakening me from my sleep as he shook me. It took me a while for my eyes to adjust to the sunlight, but when I could, I looked up at the man. He was tall and appeared to be in his early 30's. He wore a dark tux and had a 5 o'clock shadow. I didn't mind the scruff on his face. It made him look desirably sexy.

"Do you need any help, miss?" He asked kindly, holding out a mysterious manila envelope. A look of pity covered his beautiful face. "I don't know...I could never take this from you," I hesitated, shielding my eyes from the sun. From what I saw between my bony frail fingers, it was the start to a beautiful day.

"Please, miss. Take it. It's the least I could do." With enough nagging, he persuaded me to take the cash. "Thank you. Thank you so much." I said. My mouth dropped as I opened the crisp white envelope. I observed it, holding it up to the light to see if it was real. Inside was $1,000. Cash.

That at least, helped my mother and I get back on our feet. I started working again and my mother even found a job at the mall. Eventually, we bought a house, the one I'm currently living in. But ever since my father died, my mom hasn't been the same.

She began going out regularly and wouldn't come back until the early hours of the morning. She was always drinking, probably to drown her sorrows, her guilt, and she became abusive towards me. What made it worse is that she blamed me for everything that happened, like I was only created to be a mistake, like I was a waste of air.

Of course, that affected me in the worst ways. I began cutting, but on days where a slit to the wrist wouldn't possibly be good enough, I snuck into the liquor cabinet - my mother never cared to lock it anyway - and sipped bitter liquor until I was drunk enough to not remember my name. It was better that way. At least when I was drunk, I couldn’t remember all the pain and suffering I’ve been through. It’s better to feel completely numb and empty than to be in pain, right?

Applying a thick coat of make-up to my face, I grabbed my car keys and walked out the door. I didn’t bother telling my mother I was going to school. It’s not like she cares where I go anyway.

Starting the car, I listened as the engine revved to life. I pulled out of the driveway and made my way to school. I blared the radio as it played a familiar song - Frank Ocean's, Thinking about You. I hummed along, but began to sing. Or do you not think so far ahead? 'Cause I've been thinking about forever.. It was one of my favorites.

Putting down the window, I let the cool breeze engulf me as I drove towards the entrance. It was a beautiful day, just like any other. The sun was shining bright overhead, making my tanned skin glow and the trees swayed calmly in the March wind.

Turning into the school parking lot, I let the engine of the car die. Not wanting to enter, I hesitated. I can't deal with their comments. Not again. Not ever. But it's school. It's not like I really have a choice. Keeping this in mind, I walk in and prepare for yet another horrible day.

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School went by quicker than expected, that's for sure. During each class, I watched the clock eagerly, awaiting the time for the bell to ring, signaling the end of class.

I ate lunch at the library, nestling myself in the corner with my brown paper bag and a good novel, just as I do every day. This time, I picked out Romeo and Juliet, a well-known play my the infamous Shakespeare. Even though I've already read it in English during my freshman year, I decided to reread it, considering it's one of my favorite plays.

After that, the day went by quicker and quicker, which I was thankful for. At least it's Thursday, I thought. I was on my way home since I had nothing better to do. But as I put the keys in the ignition, I thought about where else I could possibly go. I decided to go to the local bar, Morgan's.

"I'll take a Grey Goose," I told the bartender. He nodded slightly as he made my drink. He stuck a finger up in the air, as if he's just remembered something. "ID please."

I shuffled through my bag and handed him my ID. Fake, of course. I'm only 16, but he doesn't know that. And what he doesn't know won't kill him.

He scans over my ID with his beady brown eyes. By the look of the stubble on his chin and the shiny bald spot on his head, he seems to be in his late 40s. He tosses it on the counter, as if he couldn't possibly care less, and serves me my drink. "Keep the change," I said, handing him a twenty. With that, he gives me a wink, and I try desperately not to throw my vodka on him. Instead I roll my eyes. "Perv," I mumble, but he doesn't hear.

I sit at the bar for a while, sipping at my Grey Goose. The more I drink, the more I start to feel weightless with every move I take. It's as if the world is shutting out all around me. I ask for a shot and chug it. The burning sensation tingles in my throat, but I am thankful for the bitter taste. It's the only thing keeping me sane.

For the rest of the night, I drink until I feel my heart rate has quickened. All I hear are bits and pieces of different conversations before I black out and pass out on the counter.