For the first time in two years, actually, for the first time ever, Roy got drunk with his father. It was a sort of male rite bonding, and Roy was rather thankful. His mother was at the church once again, Whit at an unknown friend's house. Family dinners were a thing of the past and so it seemed was his mother's prayers before bedtime.

"She spends all her time at the church," his father said.

"Not you?" Roy asked.

"I go when I can."

"Mass tomorrow?"

"Possibly. Far too tipsy to tell by morning," Pop chuckled. "Your mother would love if you'd join us."

"Maybe," Roy smiled. He hadn't been in a church in years. Years before he'd even moved to LA. He could only imagine the sins he's committed during this time. Too many to count. Far too many to confess in a day. God was frowning.

"I'm gonna go on and take a nap and suppose I'll go retrieve your mother then," Pop stretched and stood up.

"Okay."

Roy had a pounding headache from drinking already. He decided if morphine helped his agonizing back pain it would alleviate some sort of headache. He swallowed two pills with more whisky, more than likely not the greatest idea. The alcohol and opiate made Roy's head fuzzy and just made him more tired. His tongue tingled.

The front door slammed open. Whit stopped halfway on the stairs when Roy said something.

"You can't be mad at me forever."

Whit frowned. "Just fucking watch me."

Roy shook his head as Whit left. He popped another pill. His mind was racing, his heart palpitating. A sudden urge came over him out of nowhere. It had crossed his mind before but Roy didn't believe he had the strength or ability to do so. He glanced at the telephone mounted on the wall towards the back of the kitchen.

Could he? Should he?

His hands shook as he picked up the mouthpiece, slurring a familiar number to another cheerful operator.

"Hello?" A small voice on the other line.

"Did you get your wallet?"

"Roy?" Disbelief.

"Kenz."

"Where the hell have you been all week?" There was desperation in her voice.

"Home," Roy admitted.

"No, you're not. I stopped by your apartment at least three times."

"Um, home-home. Back home."

"Roy! Do you know how worried I was about you?" Roy could tell over the phone she was holding back tears. "I thought you disappeared. I thought you went and did something. I thought you..." She trailed off. "...How fucking dare you."

"I'm sorry, MacKenzie," tears began to fall down Roy's face.

"Why would you leave without telling me? Why would you leave without telling someone? The landlord kept knocking on your door. Your month's rent was late. I broke in."

"Of course you broke in."

"Roy, you scared me."

"I'm sorry."

"What's home like," MacKenzie whimpered.

"Eh," Roy said. "I don't know about my family."

"Must have been happy to see you."

"Not like this," Roy said. "My friend Dahlia didn't even look at me for the longest time."

"Yeah, it probably hurt her too much."

"Probably."

"How drunk are you, Roy."

"Enough," he sniffed.

"I'm so angry at you."

"Yeah, you sound like my brother."

"I'm livid."

"I'm sorry I left you, Kenz."

"Stop calling me that," she cried.

"It was selfish. I'm sorry. It wasn't fair to you. I was finally beginning to feel whole again with you, MacKenzie. You were there when no one else was."

"That's a funny way of showing gratitude," MacKenzie said.

"There's no excuse. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Goddammit Roy get over yourself."

"What?"

"Get over yourself. Like I did."

"You...you got over me?"

"Never," MacKenzie sobbed. "But I still hate you."

"You don't really hate me."

"No."

"Then why do you say it."

"Because I'm mad at you," she said through clenched teeth.

"Forgive me?"

"I'll think about it." She hung up.

I'll think about it.

Roy rubbed his face and put the phone back on the line. He felt like an idiot.

He unlocked the front door quietly, cautious of waking his father, if the phone call hadn't. He wondered if Whit had heard him, and panicked. His brother already thought he was a loser, hearing him sobbing on the phone talking to a woman wasn't going to bring up his impressions of masculinity much.

Roy didn't know where he was going at first. Not to Dade's, not if William was still there. Somewhere to be alone. He was actually seeking a sort of solidarity. His head didn't hurt anymore but it was still fuzzy.

The lake was about a quarter way from Dade's house. Roy assumed it's where he and William had gone fishing that day, just as Roy and his brother had during childhood.

He wheeled onto the dock and sighed. The water looked almost like the pond in his nightmare, except it was much wider and deep. The water was dark and tranquil, but there was no imaginary tide.

Roy was staring into the abyss.

It was beginning to grow dark. Roy assumed his father had already gone to the church and was back by now.

Whit really did hate him. Roy didn't believe he would ever be forgiven. For getting himself hurt or abandoning his family?

His mother could barely look at him without crying. She barely said a word to Roy when they had seen each other. He knew his father was disappointed, even he referred to his own son as a cripple.

MacKenzie probably really hated him too. Roy didn't blame her. He left without saying goodbye, another repetition of past events. Dahlia acted differently with Roy when they were around other people. She couldn't love him in daylight, and even she had somebody.

Would Dade cry for him? No, probably not. Dade had his own life to worry about. His own goals, his hopes and dreams. Dreams that would actually come true and not abandon.

The alcohol numbed Roy's senses. He poured the rest of the morphine into his palm before swallowing them all. They slid down the back of his throat leaving a bitter taste.

He closed his eyes.

The bottle dropped from his hand. Shattering into a million pieces on the wooden dock.

Roy's head and body grew heavy and warm. He found himself slumped in his chair, gradually finding himself lying on the dock itself.

I must have just...fallen...

It was a beautiful sense of well-being. Warmth surrounded his body as if he was in the womb. Roy knew what was happening, he didn't panic.

His breathing became shallow, and he glanced down at his hands. The tips of his fingers were beginning to turn blue. It concerned Roy but he didn't have enough energy to sit up. He felt his body become limp and his arms fall awkwardly.

The blackness was beginning to hit him.

Together, all at once.

And then absolute panic consumed him.