<div class="floatright">(http://img824.imageshack.us/img824/8426/92853359.jpg)</div>A low groan escaped Becca as she heard the loud knock on her bedroom door. Honestly, it felt like someone had grabbed an ice pick and jabbed it in her ear the instant she heard the knock. As she stuck her head out from under her pillows, she felt her stomach roll and reached for the trashcan by her bed, almost missing it as she vomited into the metal bin. Before she could even take a breath, another wave hit her and she almost dropped the fucking bin again.<br/><br/>Last night...had been...Epic.<br/><br/>Once her stomach controlled itself, Rebecca Wallingford, middle child of Senator Wallingford sat up and clenched her teeth as the action caused her stomach to roll. After taking a few minutes to sweet talk her stomach into giving her a break, Becca slowly sat up and made her way to the bathroom. She needed a shower. Badly. Whatever it was her Father wanted from her could wait; shit, she didn't even understand why she was up before noon anyway. What day of the week was it, too? Friday?...One glance at her cellphone made her eyes almost snap out of her head. SUNDAY! It was Sunday and he was waking her up this fucking early!<br/><br/>"Fuck...that." The sound of her own voice made her wince, causing Becca to shudder...and the action caused her body to revolt against holding back the nausea she felt. Throwing the trash can in the bathtub, Becca slammed her knees down on the tile, jerked the toilet seat up and proceeded to empty the alcohol that was still in her system.<br/><br/>It was almost twenty minutes later before she could raise her head up and not whimper in agony. How many drinks had she--No, no. How many bottles had she had? She had taken Bri out against her objections, and had proceeded to intoxicate the hell out of her beautiful baby sister. Except...Becca frowned, trying to think of everything that happened. It was a daily occurrence with her, the blackouts and the spotty memories. At the ripe age of 21, Becca could honestly say she had done it all and seen it all. She was the delightful thorn in her Daddy's side and she adored it.<br/><br/>It wasn't that she intentionally got in trouble, Becca just had a<em>small</em>problem with authority. And her Father, Senator Eric Wallingford, was the equivalent of a Christian Natzi. The middle one out of triplets, Becca was just used to getting her way! The first time she had been caught smoking, she had received a reprimand. The first time she had been caught fucking her boyfriend, she had received a day in confessional. And last time she had gone to church? Well, she had 'accidentally' been caught drinking and driving; Honestly, she wouldn't have been caught...if she hadn't run her vehicle into a police car. Thankfully, the car was empty since the police officer was writing someone else a ticket. But after her visit to the hospital, Daddy had shipped her off to Rehab. She had come out a clean young woman!<br/><br/>...That had lasted the plane ride from Arizona back home. The instant the plane had touched down, Becca had made a beeline to Ward's liquor cabinet. Her older brother normally didn't mind her stealing alcohol from him. Especially with...the little arrangement they had.<br/><br/>As Rebecca flushed the toilet, she stumbled into the bathtub and turned the water on. She didn't care if it was cold or hot...she just needed to wash off the scent of liquor, smoke and sex. Sex? When the hell had she had sex? Whatever. She had a feeling her darling Father was going to try and force her to go to church with him.<br/><br/>Why else would he ask her to get up at eight in the fucking morning!?<br/><br/><div align="center">(http://images.faithclipart.com/images/3/1226519066217_291/img_1226519066217_2911.jpg)</div><br/>"Howard Eric Wallingford, Jr."<br/><br/>Ward let out a quiet sigh at the sound of his name and slowly sat up on the small bed he had been laying on. His hangover was still there, but there hadn't been a need to throw up. Ward's body was past the point of being new to alcohol and substance abuse; his body could handle anything he threw at it. Last night, he had partied a little<em>too</em>hard...but it wasn't truly his fault. His buddies had dared him into a drinking contest and after he had enough to drink, he had to take a piss. The bathroom was full so he did the only normal thing: he took a piss in the bathroom sink.<br/><br/>It was apparently the WRONG thing to do.<br/><br/>Before Ward realize what was happening, he was getting kicked out of the bar. And his fucking friends had simply waved and told him they'd see him later on at home. Bastards. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as he took his keys out and began to make his way to his car...the cops showed up. What a damn good setup.<br/><br/>"I'm here," Ward mumbled as he saw the officer unlocking the jail cell and pulling it open. He slowly smiled when he saw his Father's lawyer on the other side. Whether his Father knew where he was or not didn't truly matter to Ward, when he had been given his 'one call', Ward had called the one person who could save his ass. The family lawyer. Hell, Ward saw that man more often than he saw his own Father.<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://img848.imageshack.us/img848/418/38313359.gif)</div><br/>"Bail has been posted," The Officer said with a disapproving look towards Ward. He looked at the lawyer and jerked his head. "He's free to go but has to meet with the judge--"<br/><br/>"He knows what to do," Ward snapped, impatient to get out and go home. He wanted a hot shower and to crawl back into bed. Hell, he was starting to get a headache and knew a certain lovely little syringe that was waiting for him at home to take care of all his aches and pain. Unless Becca had been in his room again, and if she had...then she better have a damn good reason for taking his shit. Ward didn't mind sharing his goodies with his middle sister, but there were times when she was so fucking selfish. She wouldn't think twice about stealing his weed. Or his coke.<br/><br/>The Office waited until Ward and his lawyer were almost to the door before he added, "Oh yeah. Mr. Wallingford?"<br/><br/>"Yes?" Ward said through clenched teeth, the urge to punch the fuck out of the cop building. Didn't they realize that this would be swept under the rug like every other incident in his life? He was fucking Howard Eric Wallingford, he could kill someone and it would all be swept under the rug. Ward had half a mind to complain to the Police Department and have the  man's badge taken from him. God, that would be gre--<br/><br/>"I also took the liberty of calling your Father and making him aware of the situation."<br/><br/>Fuck.