~ 2003 ~

Billie already knew this was a bad idea. But he had no one to call- no one could come pick him up, and he was certain that it was far too late to try and call for a taxi. Despite knowing how foolish it was, he climbed into his car, and jammed the key into the ignition. Okay... so far, so good. His eyes, half-lidded, tried to focus on the road as he shifted gears. His breath stunk of alcohol- so did his clothes. The fiery scent of the liquor he had downed clung to him like a burr- and yet, he was still putting his foot on the gas. Slowly, he pulled out of the parking lot. Great. Now, he just had to make it back home without getting pulled over.

Billie was a hazard in the driver's seat. His hands were unsteady, his car swaying in and out of the right lane as though he had never been behind the wheel before. But the roads were empty, and Billie was... sober enough to get himself home, right? Right. He just continued on his merry way.

And that's when he heard sirens. The familiar flashing of blue and red in his rearview mirror. Goddamn it. He knew he was far too drunk to pull over- he'd end up crashing into a ditch, or hitting a streetlamp. Instead, he slammed him foot down on the breaks, and slumped forward in his seat, groaning as his forehead thumped against the steering wheel. He knew he was going to jail tonight. It wouldn't be the first time- but that didn't exactly mean he was looking forward to it.