Thank you everyone for reading! I love the reviews I'm receiving, they're fantastic, just like you guys. I've received some DM's asking about my activity; I'll be updating much more frequently now that I'm on summer break! Patience is a virtue, but I understand if you're eager ;) Anyway, feel free to review as much as you want. Thank you sweeties!

I hated this town more than I hated myself. I wanted to barrel roll out of my parents' car when I saw the city sign whoosh by us. Might as well end it now rather than return, right?

I moved from South Park to San Francisco when I was 11 years old; almost 7 years ago. I'm not sure if I had developed such an intense, boiling hatred for this town at that age, or if I was just pissed that I was leaving my favourite place in the whole fucking world. The whole car trip I was listening to loud and angst filled music that only caused my mood to plummet even more. My thoughts returned to the day that flipped my life as easily as flipping a coin was.

When my parents announced our return to the threshold of hell I had begged and pleaded to stay in San Fran, but to no avail. It seemed almost dream like, actually nightmare-ish, to leave. I had built up so much in California; relationships, friendships, sports, school...everything. I was forced to drop it all for them. When I told my friends I was moving they were all devastated. I had been one of the most popular guys at my school of five thousand teenagers (and some 6-year students.) Almost everyone knew my name; whether it was through sports, common friendships, drugs, clubs, everyone had heard my name at one point in time. I guess I had made my name when I threw the biggest rager the school had ever seen, let alone heard of. Everything was so surreal in California. I blamed all the drugs I did mixed with the euphoria of finally being accepted into society. I had quit ostracizing myself purposely and found out that people actually liked me. Also, puberty hit me pretty well, so I was a total babe. Not gonna lie.

"Honey," my mother's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, "We're driving by your old school!"

I stared at this unknown territory. I had blocked out most of my life prior to California and I honestly couldn't recall even attending that horrendous looking elementary school.

"Cool mom." I said flatly.

"Sweetie," these pet names were so annoying since she only pulled them when I was mad, "You can't return on a sour note. You know that starting new can be fun and can be great!"

I swear, my mom knew exactly how to strike a nerve in anyone. She knew I was mad and that I would never forgive her, nor my father for that matter, for making me return.

"Mom, I fucking hate it here already." She scolded me for my language and chattered on about how starting a new school would be healthy for me. Maybe I'd make better friends.

By better she meant kids who didn't do drugs or get into my pants. Well, honestly, I got into people's pants. My parents weren't happy when I came out as bi-sexual but they were happy that I had finally opened up to them a little, especially with something they saw as important, but they didn't like how promiscuous I was. My dad always worried I was going to catch a disease while my mom worried about me getting a girl pregnant. While I wasn't all that interested in girls, I still satisfied my needs. Honestly, who would deny a blow job when they're high? No one who's smart or horny.

We pulled up to our old house. Why my parents decided to buy the exact house we moved out of baffled me. But that wasn't the biggest of my concerns.

I grabbed my backpack and rushed into my new yet old house up to my room. I looked around and immediately went to the bathroom. I needed a cigarette and to put my medication away.

I flipped my backpack upside-down and saw multiple things sprawl out. I saw a frame with a picture of my best friend and I holding red solo cups up to the camera and flicking it off. The night of the historical rager. I also saw my pill bottles spin into the sink along with some clothes, my blanket my ex had given me, and my phone. I completely forgot I had taken my phone with me. I checked it; 9 missed calls and 17 texts. I unlocked the screen and read the messages.

'I'll miss you cutie!'

'Dude, is your dealer in town?'

'Hey man, don't let this get you down. Mom said I can visit you as often as I like. Perks of having a pilot as a dad.'

'You're fucking kidding me. You didn't fucking tell me you were returning.'

I stared at the most recent text I had. Who the fuck had texted me that? Who the hell had my number from South Park?