Chapter 63: BLUR

"I'll be home by eight. Leftovers in the fridge," Gerald said, stepping out the front door without looking back. Gerald was the older guy I'd met by chance at Mickey's, the day I found out my mom was pregnant.

I’d stumbled into him again at the bar, pouring my heart out to anyone who would listen. Somehow, after getting way too drunk on my first night with alcohol, I ended up at his place. His small, rundown one-bedroom felt like the perfect hideaway.

Gerald's house was barely holding together. The walls were faded, stained, and cracked in places, with a ceiling that looked ready to collapse at any moment. The place smelled faintly of mildew, and there were patches on the floor where the linoleum had peeled away, exposing the worn wood underneath. There was no real dining table, just a beat-up coffee table in front of a sagging couch that I’d been using as a bed. The couch springs dug into my back, but at least it was better than facing my parents right now.