Not So Bad After All (BWWM)(EDITING)

Chapter Three

Not So Bad After All

Book One

Chapter Three

Jayden's POV

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I couldn't wait to get home and lay in my bed.

Football practice was tough today. Coach always came down hard on me the most. As quarterback, I'm responsible for picking up the slack from my team... Most of the time, it gave me opportunity to show off a bit, especially in front of recruiters. Other times it made me look bad, like I couldn't control my teammates. Being QB could be frustrating as fuck sometimes. Today was one of those times.

"You're filthy again," my father pointed out from his usual spot, a gray chair he allowed my mother to pick out when he let her redecorate the living room a few years ago. My father at the time, wanted to move to a grand mansion. You know, something that represented his ego. My mother wanted to stay in this house that made us look more humble than we ever were. So my mom gave our house a facelift and convinced him to stay here until I graduate. It never mattered where lived to me. Once I graduate, I'm out.

He was reading a book and didn't even bother to look up at me when I came through the door. He's used to me looking like this so I know by addressing it, he just wanted something to bitch about.

"That's what happens when you play a sport," I walked passed him through the living room.

"I don't even know why you waste your time with that bullshit. You're never going to be a professional football player. You need to pick up a book and prepare yourself for the real world. Get a real job," he said as he flipped a page.

"Right," I shook my head at him.

There's no use in arguing with him, plus I'm just too exhausted and not in the mood for his shit.

"Where's mom?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Where she always is," he mumbled.

Then she's drunk and passed out in the den, which was just another family room.

I shook my head and went up to my room and locked my door. I stripped from my football gear, wrapped a towel around my waist and went into my bathroom to take a shower. After I was done, I threw on some sweat pants and towel-dried my hair. It's short now, but I'm thinking of growing it out.

I left my room to check on my mom before I go to bed. She was still passed out on the couch. An empty glass and three empty bottles of wine sat on the coffee table.

I sighed and shook my head. I gently picked my mother up and carried her to her bed. She stirred as I covered her with the blanket and tucked her in.

She rubbed my face and smiled up at me, "My boy. The only one who loves me."

I didn't say anything because she immediately fell right back to sleep, but my heart ached for her. Seeing her like this only made me hate my father even more. I see a woman who sacrificed her life, hopes and dreams for her husband and kids to be a great mother and housewife. I see a woman who wanted to be loved by her husband but didn't realize until it was too late that he isn't capable of that emotion.

I turned the light off and closed the door behind me. My made a silent prayer to whatever higher power to help my mother with her drinking problem.

At this point, this was a routine. I hated seeing her like that but there was nothing I could do... I'm only eighteen. She's supposed to be my parent, but I find myself looking out for her more than she does for me. Truth is, I want to help her, but I don't know how to help someone who doesn't want to help themselves. Plus, my father just has too much control over her. He's a narcissist through and through. Whenever she tried to leave him back in the day, he manipulated the fuck out of her to make her stay. Needless to say, she did.