No Saint

I drink too much, smoke too much, screw around. I’ve hurt people, been in and out of prison. I’m a bastard, a beast. I’m a bundle of joy.

I mean, my own dad tried to kill me, what does that tell you?

Then again, my dad did kill my mom, so maybe it isn’t just me. Who the hell knows. The world sucks and I’m giving it the finger in every damn way, except…

Except there’s a girl. Pretty. Hot. Clever. She didn’t get the memo—that she should hate me, shun me, kick me when I’m down. That the world screwed us all over. She believes in the future—and sometimes she seems to even believe in me.

Big mistake. I’m bad news. I made her suffer in the past, and nothing has changed. I’m not an angel, not a saint. No good.

But for some reason I don’t get, I can’t let her go down with me. I find myself trying to be better for her, pretending to be someone I’m not.

And if that doesn’t ring some damn big alarm bells regarding my sanity, well… then I’m done already.