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I turned eighteen on February second and so as with all great traditions I decided I would spend the following weekend with my buddies.

Of course I gave it no more thought, I mean who would.

Summer was coming I had just finished the eleventh grade; my life was becoming interesting on its own.

 ) Lastly this is the first time I've written a story from a First Person Perspective, not sure how comfortable I am with this style and verb tense has been a Bitch... She wasn't always a freak, I mean when she graduated high school and left for university she was normal enough or as close to normal as one's older bitchy sister can get.

Point of fact she really wasn't that bad, and for the most part we got along ok but after that first year of university she began to change and it wasn't subtle.

I remember mom trying to mediate but it was like mixing oil with water.

She stomped off to her room and he went to his den and the rest of us, well, me and mom sat in silence for the remainder of the evening.

Well shots of tequila and shots of Jack, on top of seven rum and cokes is a little much for anyone and I challenge the most steadfast alcoholic not be in some kind of trouble by the end of the night (on second thought NO I DON'T). So my brilliant buddies decide it's in my best interests to take me home and they dump me off at my front door, ring the bell and run like hell. in my arm to restore my fluids and stop me from puking.