Miguel was thinking about Mia. And her daughter with Ember. The son he had lost. It was so sad. And it made him jealous. And bitter and angry, and feel foolish. Mean thoughts spread in his mind, that he should've expected something like that from a woman like her. She had known he was going to get married. And she'd wrecked it. But as they say, it takes two. He'd probably been making bad decisions on substances.

It made him sick to his stomach what he was feeling.

There were leaned over the car window and hurled some of his meal up. He'd apparently eaten some type of animal from the forrest. 

Its blood and guts spewed from his lips.

He drank some of his mixed drink, then got out the car with some water. Fuck this, he wasn't sitting here crying about that ho. 

He was jealous. And embarrassed. 

Ember had a chld and he did not, with the same woman. Living child, that is. He was insanely, crazily, jealous. He had to hurt one of them. But he felt afraid. He knew Ember didn't like him. Mia had a living daughter and dead son. Family was important to him. So were his friends. This was sickening, a group of kids had been taken into a supernatural world. Why. Chosen. Why them. 

He needed someone to fill the voic of all the death and the holes from the drug use. Everywhere. Or alcohol. He couldn't help it, he sunk into his bed and started crying, so many feelings, managing to keep up what he'd eaten. He adjusted his skirt and then fell asleep, knowing that we're trained to cry in our pillows. He hadn't in a minute. A long one.

What had been different about tonight?