Party 'til you pass out / When the party's over

[A/N: Because I could just not not :)]

Sheffield

A random Saturday night in April 2041

Isla

'For the last time, Isla; I will not tolerate you using any kind of drugs!,' dad let out at me. 'What do you not understand about that?! You're sixteen, get a fucking grip!'

'As if you're so fucking innocent! You've been young too, haven't you?!,' I yelled at him. His eyes narrowed at me, and I regretted my words immediately as I watched his face fall and his entire demeanour change from agitated to regretful.

'That's not the point here,' he said, his voice a bit strained now. 'The point is that I don't want you to make the same mistakes as I did.' I looked at his troubled, somewhat emotional face.

'Well, I am not you, am I?!,' I then hissed before I slammed the door of my room shut. Letting out a grunt as I fell on my bed, I thought about how ironic my last words were, since I looked so much like my father that even my grandparents said it was scary. I had earned every sharp facial feature and his tall, lanky posture and messy dark brown hair from him. Except for my eyes – which were the same bright grey tone as mum's -, I was a spitting image of my father. If you would put a picture of him when he was younger next to mine, you could almost say we were twins. Even in character I looked a lot like him, and I thought that that was what triggered him the most.

After everything he had been through before my parents got me, dad was just dead scared I would become the same problem kid as he had been when he was young, with all consequences afterwards. I knew about my father's history with addiction, and all the times it had played him hard and had nearly cost him everything. I bet I knew more about my father than most teenagers did about theirs, because nearly everything about his life was out in the open anyway. He had been famous before I was born, and still was now, so there was hardly a way to not know anything about him. I knew he hated it, but I bet that was what he got for being in a successful rock band for thirty years and become an award-winning producer after Bring Me The Horizon retired. For him it was the downside of doing the thing he loved to do the most; creating music.

I sighed deeply and covered my face with my hands to calm myself down. Dad and I had been having words a lot lately, and I hated it. Mum had always called us two peas in a pod, and she wasn't wrong. We had a very strong bond, and I had always been a daddy's girl. Dad always said that I was the only thing he had ever created that had been perfect from the beginning, making mum joke that she had done the most in their duo project with growing and birthing me, but that dad got the A+ without any effort because I resembled him so much. It had been an inside joke between them that I often rolled my eyes at, but with a smile because I loved how they loved each other. After twenty years of marriage – twenty-three if you added their first – they were still very dedicated to each other. My parents had unintentionally put up a very high standard for anyone who would one day become my lover, since I would not settle for anything less than being loved like the way they adored each other. Our little family had never lacked any form of love, and I had nothing to complain about my life anyway.

And yet, my thoughts were always running and became a mess sometimes. Yet, my feelings were heavy very often, and yet, I sometimes felt the need to seek some sort of relief in any kind of way.

I had found myself occasionally smoking pot with friends since I was fifteen. A few months ago, at a party, I had tried ketamine for the first time in my life – and I loved it. My parents didn't know, and I wanted to keep it that way. Imagine dad's reaction when found out I had tried out the drug that had nearly cost him everything multiple times in his life. They knew about the pot, though, because I had been smoking behind the school building, and school had called my parents when I got caught last week. They weren't too happy with it, hence why dad was so upset with me lately. He had often tried to explain to me that addiction started with something small, an occasional use of something that made you feel better for a short while. Until occasional turned into regular, and regular turned into all the time. And who knew better than him? Still, I found it really hypocritical from him to be so against me trying out drugs for fun, while he had been high most of his teens and twenties.