everything's fucked// james cook

part 1: tosser

I woke up to the alarm I had stupidly set the night before. Sitting up, I noticed the half-empty bottle of vodka next to me, and the puke on my rug.

Thoughts swirl through my head. Black, dark thoughts, the ones I always have, then the blurred, half-remembered memories of the night before. I vaguely remember drinking, but not much else.

Wiping the puke off my mouth, I got out of bed, stumbling to the mirror. My shoulder-length dirty blonde hair hadn't been washed in days, and last night's black eyeliner was smeared all over my face. My dark brown eyes stared out of my tired, drawn face, a product of three hours of sleep.

It's too early for this.

Walking to my bathroom, stepping over the overturned bedside table and the piles of clothes on the floor, I washed my face, carefully applying my daily armor, a thick line of eyeliner followed by black eyeshadow.

Quickly brushing my teeth and swiping deodorant on, I pick a shitty outfit and slip my feet into my black boots. Shrugging a frayed sweatshirt on, I grabbed my bag and left my room.

Stomping down the stairs, I saw my mum, passed out on the worn couch below, my little sister playing with her glasses next to her.

My mum stirs, and Bea coos happily. My little sister's never cried a day in her life, even when my mother leaves her in her room all day.

I pick her up and bring her to the kitchen.

She babbles happily, "Vi, Vi, Vi!"

"Aww, sweetheart, are you hungry?" I set her down in her highchair, opening the fridge.

And it's empty. She forgot to do the shop.

Fed up, I get a glass of water and dump it on my mum's head.

"Wake the fuck up, ok? There's no food in the fridge, Bea's nappy hasn't been changed in eight hours, and you're fucking passed out!"

She splutters awake, and I set the empty glass down in front of her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I say, and walk out the house.

As I close the door, I hear her say, "Good luck at school, sweetie!"

Bitch. I roll my eyes, and walk out the front door.

It's my first day at Roundview College. I moved to Bristol from London after Mum and Dad split up, and after my stint in the hospital. I fought it, of course. I wanted to stay in London, with Dad, but after my breakdown, Dad didn't want me. Mum moved here to be closer to my grandparents. She fell apart after the divorce, and my grandparents are too elderly to care.

So I'm left here to take care of my mum and little sister, and deal with all the other shit going on in my life.

I had skipped the first two days of school. I couldn't get out of bed, but the school called my mum about it.

It was honestly better to just suck it up and go, then deal with the authorities and my mum's halfhearted attempts to parent me.

I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it, breathing out the grey smoke, and watching it curl above me, blending into the grey clouds that seemed to perpetually hang over this fucking town.

My walk to school was uneventful. I was late, the rush of early morning commuters who usually crowed the streets had dispersed, and the streets were quiet.

Roundview College was ugly. The building looked old and worn, like it was crying out for a paint job and better funding. I dropped my cigarettes' before entering, grinding it down under my boot. I pushed open the double doors, and followed the sound of voices to what seemed like a gym.