Last Summer // DNF

~42~ Not Your Fault

Hello! You should play "All Eyes On Me" By Bo Burnham, loop it as well. It doesn't heavily pertain to the chapter too much but I feel like the melody kind of fits?

Happy reading!

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Someone once said, "Be strong now because things will get better. It might be stormy now, but it can't rain forever." Not sure who said it, probably some anonymous poet or artist that was sitting at their dining table contemplating everything they had done in their lives that led them to where they were in that moment. Someone who went through their life like it was a hurricane, a storm that would pass but wouldn't leave the lives of others untouched.

The hurricane in this case being the impending doom of Beth's trauma and recovery, and George's way of being strong for his sister. To push everything he's feeling down into a deep, dark room in his brain then shutting and locking the door before shoving the key somewhere it wouldn't be easily found.

For it being almost 2 am, the bright neon lights of 'Delilah's All Day Grind' beamed down on the empty wet parking lot with such vigelance. A certain boy who had just turned 18 sat in a retro diner booth with a cup of steaming hot chocolate in his hands. He had chosen the seat that faced the coast, the dark sight of waves lapping at the beach replayed in George's mind as a sort of distraction.

There was a light patter of rain falling on the building, clear drops running down the windows and dripping off the sill.

He had turned his phone off and left it in his car that was probably sloppily parked in a spot outside with the door unlocked. He didn't tell anyone where he was but it didn't matter much. It was a weekend, Sunday, and Karl's shift had started about half an hour ago.

Karl was filled in vaguely on what happened. He is aware that George's parents are practically dead, his sister is most likely still in surgery, and he had left and nobody with no idea where he is.

"Gogs, I think you need to go home and rest." Karl said gently as he refilled George's hot cocoa. The brunette simply shrugged and shook his head, "I'm good, thank you." Then proceeded to turn his head towards the fingerprint free glass window.

To be honest, George had been strong for the last 8 years of his life. Enduring the pure hell he went through at home with nobody to fall back on. He had been strong through all the near death experiences, sprained injuries, bruises, cuts, punches, and verbal abuse for the past 8 years of his life yet this seemed to hurt him more than any of it.

Most would think George would be happy that his father had died but no, he wasn't. He wouldn't wish death on anyone. He was almost about to have an out, he was so close to an out, both him and Beth. His mother was becoming more bearable and now look at her, she was on the fourth floor of the Hospital on 7th street hooked up to a shit ton of machines that breathed for her.

George stared at the raindrops that slid down the glass.

He wanted his father to live out his miserable life without them. To just be a broken bastard with little to no family but he got off easy. George even contemplated going to the police about the situation after he and Beth moved out. Even if he got a few years in jail, it would have been worth it.

Now he is laying in the morgue having an autopsy to confirm that he was actually intoxicated. The results would show by just looking at his liver anyways, George didn't care though. All he cared about was what the hell he was going to do next.