Simply Naughty-Joey ✔

C H A P T E R 7

Doesn't life sometimes feel as if it's the same everyday? No matter what you change, you're still facing the same shit as always on a daily basis. If I'm not arguing with Chelsie, then it's Josette or Drew then I'm smoking some kind of narcotics and walking out the house to go see friends, or I'll go up to my room and paint with the art supplies I have.

The nightmares were making me go crazy and I wasn't sure how long it was going to take until they finally would go. Sure, the painting that I had done in class was enough to get me one good night of sleep but Friday night? The nightmares came back at full force, attacking me from each corner and making me cower away from the evil.

Except I was the evil one. I was my father's child and he had problems of his own, genetic problems that were passed down to me and something I was suffering from. The usual high I would get from time to time made me feel like I was on Cloud 9, of course if it didn't then I would be questioning the dealer who gave me the drugs.

My life felt like it was going through the same cycle everyday and it didn't help that I wasn't going to get much time to just be by myself. Fuck that shit, I loved being with other people because then my thoughts wouldn't be blundering constantly in my mind like some sort of broken record.

I sighed, breathing out a cloud of illegal substance. It was the late hours of the night and yes, once again my nightmares had driven me to wake up and face the reality of my father not actually being in my life and my mother wasn't actually running around screaming. Thinking of my mother made me worry about how she was doing.

We would meet her in the holidays, after or before seeing Kian and Ava. Sometimes it would be difficult to see her in the rehab centre but she would put herself there so many times and most of them would make me think about if they would let her come back again. She showed signs of improvement but would go back into drugs.

Fucking hypocrite, my thoughts would shout.

I couldn't stay in my room right now, not for the rest of the night just sitting at my window and smoking. Whether it was weed or not, I didn't want to stay here so I grabbed my jacket from where it was hanging on the door before going back to my window and jumping out. No one would come check if I was asleep, I knew that.

The only place where I thought to have wanted to gone was Millie's house. It may have been two in the morning, or at least that's what I saw on my alarm clock before I jumped out heroically out of my window, but she was going to answer her door. Her parents were both doing jobs that had long hours.

She lived quite far from me, but at least tonight hadn't been raining. It was silent on the streets apart from the usual sound of crickets or rustling bushes were foxes ran to hide. My footsteps were scruffy against the pavement as I walked in long strides. The blunt was shaky in between my fingers, but the confidence that my mind had made me breathe in more.

The whole bad boy look was just a show. It made me feel powerful, beyond anyone's doubt, but I couldn't help but just feel like any other normal person. I had tattooed that etched, scattered and inked my skin around my body but these "scars" were just another memory of the art that I embedded onto my skin.

They looked intimidating because I dared to go and get them done, something most people would fear to do because they believed being on the right side of the law was the best thing but little did they understand that doing drugs and drinking was making them bad people. Fuck, they had no right to judge me because I deal drugs and walk around with a glare.

I dared to fuck around with people because it was better to be intimidating than to be intimidated by. Fucking girls who threw themselves at me was a reminder that I may be a fucking nightmare, but that's what they love. It wouldn't make them come back, but it would give myself and them a time that we could both enjoy.