Page 8 of The Addict

“You should kick his faggot ass,” one of his men whispered darkly from behind his shoulder. I raised an eyebrow at Silas. Clearly, his friends didn’t approve—nor did they know—of his after hours affairs and interests.

They should now, I considered.

Silas slowly released me, smirking, “Nah, he’d probably like that.” He shoved me one last time before turning to leave back down the alley.

He didn’t look back once.

Chapter three

Scream

NOAH

Isighed and took a moment to catch my breath and check my phone for the time. It was one in the morning, and I knew that my mom must literally be going crazy with worry. The fact that I was nineteen didn’t seem to matter; my mother made it clear after high school graduation that I would still be her baby boy, always and forever.

My dad, on the other hand, couldn’t care less where I was or what I did. Technically, he hadn’t really been my “dad” in years. He was simply David to me now. Many years ago when he realized that I wasn’t a genius or good in school, David gave up on me altogether. My grades were never perfect, unlike my brother Damian’s. David managed to squeeze a 4.0 GPA out of Damian his whole life, making my grades look less than pitiful in comparison. His disdain only increased for me when my mediocre grades took a larger than usual nosedive in 7th grade. I never once had a passing grade for the next two years after that. I didn’t stop failing until I made new friends.

Drugs and Alcohol. The only true friends one could ask for.

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact day that I started to get high, but I knew I had to have been around thirteen years old or so. Somehow, the drugs put an ease on the world of school and I was able to get by. They helped me. Maybe it was the confidence, or the chill nature that my drugs would provide. Whatever it was, I knew that without the satisfaction drugs brought, I probably wouldn’t have ever overcome some of my other, more serious issues.

Besides, I could stop whenever I felt like it.

But I didn’t want to.

In the end, I graduated from high school as a nobody. The teachers were just happy that they didn’t have to deal with my attitude and flirtatiousness another year. To say that I “whored around” was an understatement. I would have seduced half the staff too, if I had gotten the opportunity.

When the day of diplomas arrived, there weren’t many family members there for me. I didn’t really have a big support system, but I didn’t mind. My mom and Damian were the only two Hansens that attended the ceremony. David was not present. I remembered feeling butterflies in my stomach when I strode onstage. I could still imagine the feeling of grasping hold of my diploma as an uproar from my classmates began ringing through my ears.

That was one of the few times in my youth that I recalled feeling genuinely happy.

I had kept thinking to myself: I’ve finally done it. I’ve finally accomplished something good.

But then I looked into the crowd of people and didn’t see the person I wanted to see most. My father, the person I had been trying to impress my whole life, was not there. The feeling of happiness vanished, and I shrank into myself with disappointment. Bitterness. Resentment.

Hatred.

Throughout my entire youth, I killed myself with difficult tasks and work to try and impress David. I never stopped trying to please him. Even after the pain he put me through, I still wanted him to see me. I was a stupid and naïve child, and I craved my father’s approval, acceptance and love.

I never received it. Even on the most important day of my life.

So, I stopped trying. It was easier. I emotionally detached myself from my family so that I would not care anymore when I was inevitably let down. I especially distanced myself from Damian; he was a mirror who reflected what I could never become.

David had been unfazed by my distance from the family. In fact, the rift between us probably helped our relationship some, if you could call it that. I wondered at times if he even remembered that he had two sons, not just one.

Regardless, I knew that I was never deserving of my father’s love, anyway. I was content with knowing that I was the biggest disappointment in his life. I happily disappeared into the background of day to day life. My father continued being the heartless bastard he wanted to be, and I drifted on by, like a storm cloud rolling over an open field. David continued to train Damian to obey him like a lap dog so that he would one day follow in his same godforsaken footsteps. I watched with contempt, my hatred for their connection fueling my love for drugs and alcohol.

And of course, Damian didn’t understand me either. He was a golden boy, perfect in every aspect of his being and character. “He’s going to be something one day”, the neighbors would excitedly tell our mother. “Such a great man”, others would croon.

Damian was father’s shadow, and it was unbearable.

My lips curled in disgust at the memories. I no longer wanted to relive them. My mother was the only one I genuinely cared about, and I needed to contact her.

I touched the cell phone in my back pocket. I truly loved my mom, and I hated worrying her. She was the best part of my childhood after Damian got lost in the attention and public recognition. She was the only one that treated me and my brother as equals, even though I was nowhere near as special as Damian. I would do anything for my mom, no matter how silly the request because she was the one I loved the most.

They tell you not to pick and choose favorites.

But that’s just too damn bad.