Death Is My BFF (Book 1 Original Series)

Chapter 8: Death By Group Discussion

~Don't carry me under. You're the Death of all the skies. God sing for the hopless, I'm the one you left behind.

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I woke up with my Cat, Skittles purring loudly in my ear.

Where am I?

I groggily rolled over on the bed, and then remembered what had occurred last night. I sat up quickly, getting a major headache. Skittles pounced off the bed, and ran out of the room. I wobbled to the blinds, and opened them.

“Ugh! It’s still raining?” I yelled at the window, but of course it’s only response was to ignore me.

What happened last night? Who was that blond guy that saved me?

“Faith?” My mom called out from the hallway.

“Yeah?”

The door burst open, “Can you come into the kitchen? Your Father and I would like to speak with you.”

Shit! What did I do?

I hurried to the door and opened it, to see my moms black hair standing up on its end, and her blue eyes tired looking, “Who died?” I blurted.

She fiddled with her hands, and took out a tissue. She wiped her eyes, and my heart dropped.“Nobody, we have something to tell you in the kitchen, as a family.” She motioned down the hallway.

“Oh geez, this can’t be good,” I mumbled to myself, and walked ahead of her. I walked, until I got to the ketches to see my Dad leaning against the counter, drinking coffee, “I'm really sorry for your loss Margaret.”  He consoled, talking to someone on the phone. He hung up quickly, once he saw me.

My mom brushed my shoulder, and stood next to my Father. She looked at me, with a smile plastered on her face, “Well, he’s part of our Church. And he tells us he was at the party last night, where you apparently were,” she explained, wiping at her eyes.

“Yeah…” I trailed.

“Tom Gregory is dead,” my Dad finished, patting my crying mother.

“What? How?When?” I asked frantically.

“Well he was a recovering alcoholic, but he apparently overdosed on drugs,” my mom answered, “we actually heard about it on TV, and not his parents. He had some strange, black veins coming out of his chest.”

I put my hand to my forehead, not being able to process. I mean sure, he was a jerk and made fun of me all the time. But nobody deserves to die. “But I just—“

 “Faith, we want you to join an alcoholic support group,” my mom blurted.

“Why? I’m not a—“

“We heard you come in at 3:00 in the morning, and then you just passed out!  I tried to wake up but you were too out of it. I contacted Marcy’s parents and she told us she did the same thing. Now you come in here looking like death! You look so sick, depressed, and agitated all the time! Those are all signs of—“

“Mom I’m not—“

“It’s ok Lisa, let me talk to her,” my dad’s deep voice assured her.

“Ok, maybe you can talk some sense into her.”

Ugh! Why are they doing this to me? I never drink beer!

My mom left the room, and I stood there awkwardly. “Have a seat Faith”

“Dad I don’t drink!”