. (isconfetti) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-08-26 21:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | eames |
Who: Evan
What: Narrative: An outro
Where: Rehab → Jail
When: Nowish
Warnings/Rating: Language, booze, accidents, being an ass?
They moved Evan into the general population on Friday, after a week of good behavior. He was listless, distracted, not paying a whole lot of attention to anything, but it was the drugs, man. He didn't care. He didn't care that dead, not-Becky was back, judging him over there from the hallway, and he didn't care that he kept seeing someone sitting in the shadowed chair in the corner of his room. He didn't care about any of that, man. None of it. When the nurses came, he told them everything was cool, chill, awesome, and he smiled that smirk-dimple smile and tried to pinch their asses. He was doing better, they reported to his doctors, and so he got moved into general population on Friday.
General population was more of the same, only without the padded walls, but the rest was status quo, man, and Evan just wanted to get the fuck out and get himself a drink. That's all, just one drink, and they could all suck his dick. He wasn't thinking about Louis or Cory or anyone else, man. Only him. Him, and one cold glass, perspiration on the smooth surface and something amber and ready to burn at his throat just waiting for him. Yeah, man, and that was worth all the good behavior in the world.
His father would think that it was disappointing, that the first thing Evan had set his mind to was getting out of involuntary commitment, just so that he could go get drunk. But that's how it was, and nothing was going to change it. He'd been pushed too far, and he couldn't see a way back. He didn't even want to see a way back. Fuck that, man, Evan Hampton was done.
They let him out on Sunday, because this was a public hospital, and there was no mooching off the system. He walked right out, a smile on his face, and he found the closest bar. There was no announcement of his release, no way Cory could be waiting for him with that dumbass smile on his face. Nah, man, none of that, and no Louis either. He sat down at the bar, and he asked for a bottle, and he found a boy to head home with three-quarters of the way through. This was living, man.
The boy was too drunk to drive, so Evan offered. Hey, he was used to operating drunk, no big deal, and some people never learn. That quote probably existed just for him. But he was too gone on whiskey, antidepressants and antianxiety pills to care, and maybe it was fitting. Maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, it was all fucking intentional. Maybe he couldn't stand himself anymore.
But, like everything else in life, Evan screwed it up. He was heading out of Vegas, toward the Grand Canyon with no real idea how far the fucking thing was. He figured maybe it was a good thing to drive off, or to get his dick sucked at or something. The boy lapping at his neck sure didn't care, and Evan was caring less by the minute.
The car swerved into oncoming traffic, and Evan and the boy managed to swerve to the side of the road without a scuff on them. But the semi turned over three times before stopping across the highway. Evan could see the driver of the semi fighting to open the door, and the boy from the bar puked, and Evan just cursed.
"Fuck, man."
He didn't bother running, and he let the police drag him in when they came, and there wasn't even a lawyer there. Nah, man, he was just remanded to custody to serve the remaining twenty years of his original vehicular manslaughter sentence, the deal brokered then canceled out by his new DUI. How was that for justice? And the funny thing? Was that he didn't even care when they told him there would be a new trial for this accident. He just shot them all the bird, and hoped someone caught it on camera for his parents to see. Fuck you, mom and dad. Fuck you, British fucker in my head. Fuck you, Las Vegas.
Fuck you.