Jace lay slumped on the ripped brown couch, tracing a hole with a finger while drool slipped down his slack jaw.
This was becoming his nightly routine - lying close to passing out in his own drool, unable to move more than a couple of fingers, surrounded by people who were honest about not giving a s**t about him.
The complete feeling of nothing was the best thing to happen to him in years. It stopped him from thinking about ...
he couldn't really remember, but there was a dull ache in his chest now that wouldn’t go away.
Maybe he needed another line, or perhaps another joint.
"Jesus, Jace, get up!"
Moving a heavy arm to cover his face, he curled away from the harsh and high pitched tone.
He didn't want to come down from where he was, he didn't want to talk to anyone or listen or fe
