"Em..where's Jack?" My dad says, not noticing me walking towards the centre of the bullpen.

"He was jus- oh! There he is.." she says, her tone changing when she sees me, "and yes I know he's wearing that t-shirt, but I really was just trying to avoid arguments Aaron."

She half-whispers that last sentence, as if I couldn't hear anyway, haha. It was typical, the fact that they've stopped bothering, like I have, aswell.

"What's wrong with the t-shi-" Spencer says, an innocent confused looked on his face as he turns to face me.

"Oh." He says, noticing the rappers doing drugs on the front of my torso.

"Hello Jack." My dad says, a sincere look on his face.

Shit, he's madder than before…great.

"Hi." I reply, my words cold and distant.

Derek clears his throat, the tension between me and my dad thicker than smoke.

"Aaron…" Emily says, warning my dad, "leave it for later."

My dad's glare stays on me, but he soon softens his look at turns his gaze back to Kate, and the team.

"Fine, but we are talking about it later."

"Oh my god, awh!" Garcia squeals, after having taken a picture of Kate smiling.

The team soon go back to having a conversation that excludes me, and I sit in one the desk chairs, spinning it round and round.

Buzz.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out and see Ali texted me again.

Hey, when are you free hottie? I want to meet up again?;) x x

I smirk to myself, she's such a flirt.

Not tonight, sorry baby, I'll text you yeah?;) x x

It sends, and I press the home button and scroll through facebook.

After about 10 minutes of that, I hear Kate start crying, she's probably tired or something like that.

"Well, we better get going, it's getting pretty late for Kate…but congrats on the solving the case guys!" Emily says, whilst collecting all of Kate's things that had cluttered Derek's desk.

"Yes, we have things, to sort out." My dad says, and even though I'm still on my phone, I could feel his narrowed, piercing stare on the back of my head.

"Jack, lets go." Emily says, trying to sound a little less harsh compared to my dad.

I breathe out, and plug my headphones into my ears again.

Tugging the desk chair I was sitting on under the table, I stnd up and go to leave.

"Hey, kid."

I look around, seeing the rest of the team looking at me sympathetically, as if they can predict the shitstorm my dad's gonna cause.

I realise it was Derek who spoke.

"We don't hate you. Neither does your dad, or Emily. We just don't want you to throw your life away, yeah?" The rest of the team nodded, and Penelope looked emotional, as usual.

I bite the inside of my cheek, and look to the floor.

"Just don't take it out on your dad and Emily, they want the best for you." JJ says.

I look back up at them, losing the interest I had at the grey carpet and my shoes.

"Jack!" I hear my dad yell, from the down the corridor, "Hurry up!"

I roll my eyes, and without saying another word, press play on my phone, and walk after my dad.

Why do I feel like such shit?

I feel like punching the wall in one minute, crying my eyes out the next, and then wanting to end it all.

But, whenever teenagers ever say they feel like this, adults say we're just hormonal.

What the fuck do they know?

Does my dad know what it feels like, wanting to end it all?

Feeling the pain in your fist after creating hundreds of fist shape holes in your wall, but liking it?

Liking the numbness and relief from the pain?

Cause that's all I want.

Relief.

No-one ever realises that people feel like this, until they do something stupid.

Like die.

So that's why I do the drugs, if you're wondering.

Not to be 'cool'.

I reckon that's why I sleep around too.

I can't handle long relationships. I don't like the fact that you have you trust and tell them everything, or you're a bad couple.

I don't want to trust someone that much, or them know as much about me as I know about myself.

They'll just leave me and I'll be left looking like a douche-bag.

The car slows, and we're pulling into our driveway.

I look up at our house.

5 bedrooms, it's huge, and like one of those 'perfect little family homes'.

All we need is a white picket fence then we'll be living the American dream.

Oh, minus the fucked up teenage son.

I've been reluctantly forced to sit in the living room.

Emily and my dad are sitting opposite from me, Kate's upstairs sleeping.

"Jack, we don't want to yell at you. We want to talk." Emily starts off, the ominous silence broken.

"Talking." I reply, blank faced.

My dad glares at me, obviously sensing my little care to the matter.

"How long? How long have you been doing, drugs?" She swallowed, almost bracing herself for my answer.

"5 months."

"That lo-long?" My dad asks, looking confused and almost guilty.

"Yeah, guess your profiling skills aren't so good…" I say. Usually I would smirk at my comment, but once again, blank. You see I figured, as soon as I can leave this hell hole I'll be right back on them, and stronger shit. So what's the point of stopping now?

I'll figure a way around their rules.

"Jack…look. You're grounded, for the foreseeable future. The team are going to be here more often anyway because we need to work on some group paperwork, and we decided to do it here…so we can keep an eye on Kate. And you. You'll also have your room searched soon, and have to do your homework downstairs so we can check on you."

"Okay?" Emily says, eyebrows raised.

I roll my blue eyes. "Whatever. Can I go now?"

My dad breathed out heavily and then said, "Ok, dinner's at 6."

I nod, then stand up, pull my skinny jeans up a bit, but obviously they are still below my slim waist, and I make my way out of the living room ,and up the stairs.

I walk into my prison for the 'forseeable future' as my dad said, and close the door behind me.

I look around.

Four white walls.

Well one is decorated with black doodles and lyrics to songs from stuff such as Green Day, Pierce the Veil, Of Mice and Men and All Time Low.

And then there is the fist holes I made.

But other than that, it's plain.

I'm not going to follow the rules though.

If I do, I worry for my sanity, social life and depression.

I pick up my phone, plug it into its docking station, and click play.

'Disasterology-Pierce The Veil'

Lying down on my bed, I close my eyes, and hum along to the words.

'Oh What a waste, of a perfectly good, clean wrist.'

Um hi...I'M SORRY:( I know I've been shit at updating...but schools been major busy!D: stupid GCSE's...anyway, review if you don't hate me for not updating in a billion years?;) x x