Another chance

[Colton]

Colton sat on the floor of his new apartment leaning against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. A copy of the set of papers he had signed for the apartment were on the floor beside him along with the keys and a 6 pack of Guinness Extra Stout. He had been able to get this place fairly cheap - someone needed to leave town quickly he guessed.

” Cheers,” he said raising the bottle in a toast to the empty room and taking a swig of his beer. It was a place to live anyway – the place may be empty but it was better than living on the street and it was all his. He looked at the sleeping bag he had tossed in the corner along with his bulging backpack full of clothes and a few necessities. At least I don’t have to unpack, he thought. He would need to see about getting some basics for the place soon. A "proper" furnished apartment, he thought laughing.

He had come to Harper Rock for another chance in life. Hearing his parents talk, he guessed there had been some sort of family connection to the place at one time. What that connection was he had no idea but he had decided to make this his home for now. Who knows maybe there was still some family here that he didn't know about.

Although drug addiction was behind him, which he planned on keeping that way, he found beer did help to take the edge off. Rehab had been a *****. The endless individual and group sessions almost drove him crazier than they already thought he was. He swore some of the counselors were crazier than the inmates or as they called them "participants". Of course, the icing on the cake had been that when he "graduated" from rehab, his parents had given him a large sum of money and basically proceeded to disown him and tell him to get the **** out. Evidently, he wasn't good for their image in town.

Running his fingers through his hair he knew he had to quit thinking about the past. It was done - over.

[Colton]

Colton stood outside the open door of his apartment, each hand on it's respective side of the door frame, looking inside. He was pretty amazed at how the place had ended up looking - far nicer than he had ever expected - nicer than he was sure he deserved. Luckily he had run into a talented individual who had helped with picking out furniture and also the layout.

Sighing he walked in, closed the door behind him and collapsed on the sofa. Holidays. They never failed to depress him. Christmas growing up should have been fun, exciting - so he heard. The only exciting part was when he could escape to his room. The *special* father/son trips to the basement with his Dad were exceptionally....shaking his head he took a bottle of whiskey from the coffee table, poured himself a shot, downed it and poured another, his hand shaking.

He had started drinking very young - as soon as he could sneak it, steal it and then the drugs. Anything to help him forget...anything to help him forget that his Dad wasn't the father people thought he was. He had never told anyone - he had known better than to do that - and later on it was his own pride that prevented him from doing so.

Running his fingers through his hair, he thought - if only he could forget. The drugs, the alcohol had not been able to do that for him no matter how much he drank or how many drugs he took.

One more shot, he thought, then I need to get out of here and go for a walk. Maybe a bar will be open this Christmas eve....