thrillicnaires
THE POOR BOY was drunk off his ass. He hadn't been able to deal with his mother and of course he'd chosen to drown his sorrows in a bottle of Jack. Tossing the glass over the edge of the roof, he watches as it shatters on the driveway below. Why was he seated on the roof? Who the hell knows. "I hate this. I hate everything-" Tate muses. "We should just...leave."









