Washout

Jesus fucking Christ. That's all I could repeat in my head over and over. I didn't want to deal with this. I didn't want to think about it. I wanted him to come home, tell me it was a joke, and then punch him in the face for playing such a stupid prank, but I knew it wasn't. It was too early in the morning for this, and Scot wouldn't be home till late. My mind was in overdrive with questions. I had to get out of the house, do something while I waited for him to get off work. Staying home would just drive me insane. Maybe I'd go pick up some booze. It seemed to do the trick for Scot and his feelings.