CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
**Kieran Morrison**
I spent the next several days at the parties with Vince - underground fights, rich kids getting wasted in penthouses, the kind of shit that made my parents' fake world look even more pathetic. At least there, nobody pretended to give a damn about anything.
The alcohol burned, the fights bled real blood, and for a few hours I could forget about green eyes and broken promises.
But it was only delaying the inevitable. I couldn't avoid going home forever.
It was past miday when I finally returned to our mansion. I expected the house to be empty, my parents either visiting some friends or pretending I didn't exist like usual.
Instead, I found Mom sitting on the sofa, perfectly posed even at this hour. A magazine dangled from her manicured fingers, a steaming mug in her other hand. Like she was staging a photo shoot called "Concerned Mother Waiting Up."
