The Lonely Rabbit and Broken Thief

Chapter One

It had been four months since he had left Lifty with those heroes. He had successfully moved all of his things into his new house, only after throwing out anything he believed was Lifty's.

It had been an episode for him to do that. He actually meant to box it all up and take it with him. For what, he wasn't sure.

To bring him home? To give it to him so he could move in properly with that fuckboy redhead? To donate? He wasn't sure. All that he remembered afterwards was the dumpster where he threw the clothes in and walking away from it.

In fact, the days were hazy for him. He had no idea what he was doing anymore. He still had about four months worth of utility bills before he had to get a job. Luckily, the house was completely paid for. He hardly ever ate now, except when he filled his stomach with any and all the alcohol he could get his hands on. He was legally twenty-one now, so he didn't have to use his fake i.d. to get it anymore.

Shifty threw a bottle at the wall, racking up to his tenth bottle today. It was only noon. He was only slightly buzzed since he used up his alcohol savings for the week. He stared numbly at the wall from where he sat. He hadn't done much since moving in. The boxes were still full, in each room they were supposed to go in. The furniture was all crowded in where the dining and living room were. He only managed to put the perishables into the new fridge before giving up.

He only went out to get any alcohol he could afford for the week and stayed shut in at home. He was on the complete other side of town, so he didn't run into his old gang or the people he used to see on a daily basis when he was robbing them. He knew no one on this side, which was good because he didn't want to see any of them anymore.

But the emptiness he felt now was overwhelming. The mattress on the floor of his room was always cold and empty. The house was just dead and it did nothing to brighten up what should be a happy time for him.

He got up, wobbling slightly as he dragged himself into the kitchen. Now that his home had changed, whenever he died, he woke up in this lonely house.

"Stupid... Lifty..."

He went into the fridge and pulled out his last bottle of vodka. He wanted to numb himself, but it seemed his body was just developing a resistance to it all. He opened the bottle and chugged it all down, the burning feeling in his throat was a warm welcome. It usually took two bottles, but since he drank a good bit of Samuel Adams, he was already feeling the buzz. Once he finished, he chucked the bottle into the wall and walked out, leaving the glass there for sober him to deal with later.

He felt an ache spread throughtout him as the alcohol finally hit him. He barely made it back into his room where he collapsed on the mattress. The items scattered on the floor began to dance around and become blurry. The ache went away as the serotonin skyrocketed in his mind and he began to giggle loudly.

No more pain. No more Lifty.

His giggles turned to sobs as he thought about his brother. He curled up on the bed and cried loudly. His brother didn't come though.

He looked around and saw the game station he had gotten Lifty. Because it had been so expensive, he had kept it. It was the only thing of his brother's that he didn't throw out in his haze. He stopped crying and began to smile, thinking back to how happy Lifty had been when he had finally gotten it for him.