My life could be described in a series of words in a run-on sentence with no punctuation marks to document the passing of time: monotonous, sad, cliche, predictable, tragic, and borderline traumatic.

These words were just that--words, something consisting of the same twenty-six letters of the alphabet combined in countless ways to describe something that was so tedious and exhausting that sometimes I hardly opened my mouth to form them.

Granted, that was when I was actually able to make words, when the scratchiness and almost unbearable pain coating my throat and vocal cords wasn't absolutely paralyzing to attempt to speak.

Sure, there were surgeries, and they sometimes helped, but the truth was that this was what I would have to deal with for the rest of my life.

Flicking another barely smoked cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, I grunted my distaste for the fact that I could hardly take a single puff without the pain becoming excruciating.

My doctors hated me--that was a definite--but that didn't mean I had to stop trying to smoke, no matter how much it hurt.

Parker's voice rang through the air and I braced myself for his scathing looks or insults, but none came.

Instead, he flung open the front door to the house and stormed inside. I followed, naturally, to find out what the hell had crawled up his asshole. Again.

"Fucking asshole! I can't believe he did that right there in front of everyone, in front of Leah, too! What did I ever do to him, anyway?"

I rolled my eyes, realizing that he was probably talking about Colton, the shit-stain on the boxers of the world that was his 'friend'. In reality, I knew he only kept him around for Alec's sake.

After what had happened with me, I didn't blame him for sticking close to his best friend for the warning signs he'd already been showing.

"And she just stood there and stared at him like he was crazy, but she still said yes! Since when were they a thing? Was she the booty call that he'd been bragging about the entire fucking time, and I had no idea?"

I wanted to interject and ask something--anything--but my vocal cords were shredded and my throat burned from the one puff I'd inhaled of the cigarette, so there was no way I'd get a single word out without coughing a lung up, shredding everything up again.

So, I stayed silent, like always, while Parker went on and on about some girl who was fucking his friend that he clearly wanted to fuck instead.

Damn. What I wouldn't give for that problem instead of--

Nope. Feeling sorry for myself was more cliche than wanting your friend's girl, and I wasn't going to do it.

"And then her best friend stood there all excited and happy while Carter--fucking Carter--asked her out too, like he hadn't just called them scholarship pussy that day! It was like he wanted to show me that it didn't matter who I wanted, he would get her first! It doesn't matter who I want or who I like, someone else just gets there first, or ruins what I already have with them."

He threw that last bit toward me but I kept my mouth shut, unwilling to speak the truth about what really happened with his shitty girlfriend from tenth grade that wound up in my bed.

It wasn't worth it, because it wasn't like he would believe me anyway. That didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

"And even if I wanted to go out with her, how could I now? She's clearly been fucking him for a while, he's been talking about this girl for like, two months now, and I haven't put two and two together. I mean, I always thought she was cute, but I didn't notice her until today, and isn't that how it goes though? But still...I really liked her. Is that crazy, that I just met her today, but I already liked her so much? It was like I'd already met her before but couldn't remember..."

I hadn't a clue who the fuck he was talking about, but still I nodded empathetically, eyebrows raised to seem as if I were interested, when in reality I was just looking forward to using this as source material for a short story.

In the story, Parker would be a giant worm--no, centipede--and the girl would be a fly buzzing around his head. Colton would be the spider that caught her in his web, and Parker was forever attempting to climb the silk that this mystery girl was caught in only to slide down it and fall into a pit of mud with each attempt.

I'd name the story after the girl who had my little brother so out of it, if he'd ever tell me her name.

"I mean, am I the asshole here? I just can't stand Colton and how much of a dick he is to women, and the one time I find someone I think is smart and beautiful and funny, and he got there before me. But it's not like he has a claim on her--they're not dating, and he never even used her name before today! It's like...I get she's on scholarship, but that's nothing to be ashamed about and he was acting like she was beneath him at school, laughing with Carter about her and her friend. Carter was being a fucking racist about her friend, too, and Colton didn't do anything, he just laughed with him! I'm not the asshole, right?"

I just quirked up an eyebrow as if to say, 'Well, what did you do to make you the asshole?' and he seemed to understand my silent question, like he always did when I didn't talk.

"Nothing. I mean, not nothing, I just...I asked her why she'd be with Colton and he told me that they'd been together for a while, every single night. Like she fucking lived with him or something, and nobody knew about it? Like, why would you hide it if you weren't ashamed of it? And why wouldn't she put a stop to it if she knew that he was ashamed of her, right? Like, doesn't she have respect for herself or--"

He stopped his tirade after I slammed my hand down on the quartz countertop beside us, the sound reverberating through the large all white kitchen.

It was my signal for him to shut the fuck up and take a breath or something. Jesus, what did this girl have, a magical pussy? She had my brother whipped and had hardly spoken to him once.

"Fuck, okay, sorry. Yeah, that was me thinking asshole thoughts. I'm not trying to judge her or her choices or anything, but...Colton? Seriously? She could do so much better."

I leaned my head forward and my eyebrows rose up into my hairline as if to say, 'like you?' and he rolled his eyes, striding to the stainless steel refrigerator to pull himself out a pre-packaged meal our mother had meal prepped that week since she'd be out of town again.

"I mean, yeah, I'd be a much better boyfriend, or whatever the hell they are, to her than he is. Come on, tell me I wouldn't?"

He did this sometimes, baiting me in conversations to see if I'd try to communicate past the usual eyebrow raise or sweeping gesture, but Parker knew when he was being a jealous psycho over some chick he'd only met once, so I didn't need to respond. He knew, and just wanted to see what I'd do, which in the end was stare at him without blinking.

We engaged in the epic brother stare-down for about a minute before his eyes watered and he blinked hard.

"Fuck. Why are you so good at that?"

Years and years of practice with shitty therapists.

It was like those jackasses thought they could see straight to my fucked up brain through my eyes.

There was a reason the word 'rapist' was in their name. A therapist basically forced you to tell them your 'feelings' but I'd yet to crack.

Shit. That was another fucking cliche, wasn't it?

Damaged guy who doesn't want to get better refuses to talk to therapist and wallows in self pity instead.

Well, at least I was aware that I was a sad, walking cliche with no friends except my brother who was basically forced to speak to me. At least I didn't have to talk back, medical exemption and all.

With the therapy, they'd given me this portable keyboard so I could type my words to the therapist or psychiatrist depending on which day it was, but my fingers never moved across the keys.

One time, I'd written out the plot for a short story where the therapist in front of me was really a sex worker and the therapy was a front for her actual business.

Needless to say, I wasn't invited back to that office.

"Anyway, I'm not gonna let Colton win, not this time. I'm so fucking sick of the girls I want slipping through my fingers. I'm going to ask Cami if Colton is her boyfriend, and if he's not then I'm getting her number and I'll ask her out. I'll just have to remember never to bring her here, unless I want you to steal another one of the girls I like."

My face scrunched up in disgust at the fact that he still thought I'd slept with his little tenth grade girlfriend, but he'd already turned around to the food dismissing me completely, the tension stiffening his body.

I obviously wasn't going to say anything against what he'd just accused me of, because I physically couldn't, but also because if he knew the truth about that day then he'd just be even more pissed at that asshole Colton.

I'd thought he found out the truth at the game at the start of the season and that was why they'd fought hard enough for him to sustain a fucking concussion, but the damage must've screwed with his memories, because he still had no recollection of the fight or why it had even started in the first place, and Colton sure as shit wasn't about to come forward with the information, the pathetic twat.

I ambled out of the kitchen and to the driveway, slipped the helmet on and swung a jean-clad leg over the black motorcycle my father had given me as his parting gift and final fuck-you to his wife and kicked the stand up before the thing roared to life beneath my hands and body.

One of the girls next door who'd been washing her car stopped and gawked as I flipped the visor down over my eyes, ignoring her stare pointed stare at me that resembled everyone else's: half fear and half lust,(at least from the girls).

I rocketed out of the driveway to get myself into some real trouble where the pain from the idea of a real relationship with my only brother and my demons would finally leave me alone--at least, for a little while.