"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!" I scream as the rest of my bags fall to the ground, only seconds after dropping one on my foot.

I hold it in my hand and awkwardly jump on one foot, hoping the pressure will alleviate the sting.

For the first time in six years, I'm back in my home town. Initially I had set out for college, but some bad memories led me to stay away for an extra two years. Now I'm back, standing on the doorstep of my childhood home, and honestly, I feel like vomiting.

With an exhausted sigh, I push the key into the door and turn the knob to find the house dark and empty. Not surprising, but still disappointing.

"Hello! It's your one and only child, finally home from school!" I call into the darkness even though I know I won't get a response.

After unpacking my few belongings and rearranging my room at least twelve times, I decide sitting around at home is the last thing I want to do. I jump off my bed and slip my boots back on.

I barrel down the staircase with newfound fervor. My boots hit the dark wood with a heavy thud that would typically prompt a speech about "respect and consideration for others" out of my mother. Being home alone does have some perks after all, I suppose.

Walking down the familiar streets that I grew up on is nothing short of weird. I can't help but look over my shoulder nervously as I walk into the little dive bar on the corner. Of course he has to own every bar in a thirty mile radius. Honestly though, he owns the entire city, through several legal businesses and even more not-so-legal ones.

As I approach the door, I take a deep breath to try and calm my nerves.

"He's too busy running the world to go out drinking," I whisper to myself. "You have nothing to worry about."

The mood noticeably shifts as I walk through the door. I'm greeted with side eyes and hushed tones from many of the patrons that were all pretty evidently about me, but I brush it off and hold my head up.

"Holy shit! Cammie Foster, in the flesh? Sit down and let me make you a drink, babe."

Marley, an old high school friend and my favorite bartender smirks up at me and taps on the counter in front of her, beckoning me to sit. She pushes a glass of blue liquid towards me as I take my seat and leans over the counter, propping her head in her hand.

She has even more facial piercings than the last time I saw her, something I didn't think was possible, and her hair was a deep emerald green. Much different from her signature baby pink- it looked amazing.

I shake my head with a laugh at her exposed cleavage- a tool she definitely used to her advantage with her other customers- and down the shot. It tastes like pure sugar going down. My eyebrows shoot up in shock.

"Damn, I knew you were mad when I left, but I didn't think you'd try to kill me. What is that shit, Mar?"

She laughs while grabbing the empty glass from me and grabs a bottle of tequila instead.

"It's called a Liquid Marijuana. Very popular with the younger crowd," she shrugs.

I shudder dramatically at her words, not at all a fan of the absolute sugar bomb she subjected me to. Her transgression is quickly forgotten, however, when she places two clear shots and a couple of limes in front of us. My eyes light up at the sight.

We cheers each other and slam the shots back. I'd never been a big drinker, but I love the slow burn of the liquid sliding down my throat.

I wandered down here because I didn't want to sit alone with my thoughts and I'll be damned if I stay sober enough to remember any of them, so I motion for another round. She looks at me curiously, no longer bubbly and carefree Marley, but pours another shot.

I notice she won't take another with me, which isn't like her, but I don't say anything. Deep down, I know why she's playing it safe. I ignore the thought- I'm certainly not ready for that conversation.

"You know I can't let you get shit faced when he's not around, Cam. Maybe you should switch to beer?"

I roll my eyes. So much for not having that conversation.

"I'm not a dog, he doesn't own me. You don't have to drink with me, Mar, but I fully intend on getting drunk, so either pour another shot or hand me the bottle and let me do it."

She lets out an exasperated groan, but hands me the bottle anyways.

"Does he even know you're back yet?" she asks hesitantly.

I raise my eyebrow at her and down another shot. My skin feels heated. I'm not even sure if it's from the alcohol or the mention of my childhood best friend.

"I'm sure he has an idea. If his spies haven't told him yet, he's probably figured it out by now," I nod my head to the security camera above the bar.

She straightens up immediately and begins mindlessly cleaning bottles and glasses. It's almost as if she forgot the camera was there.

"What even happened that made you skip town like that, Cam? I mean, I know you wanted to go to school, but to not even visit for six years? You guys were best friends, I just can't imagine what could have broken that up."

"You know, Marley, I was wondering the same things," a deep voice behind me says.

My whole body chills, the fire from those shots officially snuffed out.