Aiden's Point of View
The flickering light from the TV paints the room in soft, shifting colors, but I don’t see any of it. I don’t even know what’s playing. It’s just background noise, something to pretend the silence isn’t swallowing me whole.
The bourbon bottle in my hand is heavy and warm, the glass slick against my fingers. It’s half-empty, no, half-full. I snort at myself. Either way, it doesn’t take the edge off tonight.
The familiar ache of loneliness presses in on all sides. Not the kind you can fix with company, especially not the kind that’s easy to find around here. I made myself a promise: no more pack hookups. It never ends well. I’m not dragging anyone else through this.
The bottle lands on the coffee table with a dull thunk. I stare at it for a second, then push off the
