(Being English, I know that this would be far too hard to write if I were to write it set in America, so I'm setting this in Gloucester, England because I know that place pretty well and the hills which basically surround Gloucester are going to be a huge part of the story.)

Pretty girl, bring me down, down

Summary: At fifteen, Rose got in to drugs. At sixteen, Rose met Mia and Eddie and spirals further into her mother's past. At seventeen, she met police officer Dimitri Belikov and suddenly following in her dead mother's footsteps isn't such a good idea. AU AH

Prologue

I remember sitting, cross legged, on one of the many beds I've slept on. I remember that the bed covers on this bed were incredibly itchy – and hideously pink. I was facing my 'foster sister' Lissa and I think my lips were downward in a frown.

"Erugh," I complained, looking up at the girl I'd known for barely a week. "This place is the worst place I've been sent to. No offence, Liss." She smiled and waved a dismissive hand, before flipping her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder.

"What makes it so bad?" She questioned. I know there was something that then, when I was fifteen, I didn't take note of. But looking back, I remember a glint in her jade green eyes. I know why now . . . Now I know why she wanted to know so much about me. And I'm ashamed to say I know why I bared my soul to her.

"Because it's so cold and sterile," I replied, voice quiet and weak. Lissa was the same age as me, but she seemed years older – I suppose that's why I spoke so much to her. I didn't speak much to anyone else at Willow House. If I did it was the same routine:

"Rose, how are you?"

"I'm fine." Just tell 'em what they wanna hear, I'd think to myself. I'd put up a smile and laugh when told to. Just like my mamma told me to.

"Why are you here, Rose?" (It was normally the younger kids that asked this, though.)

"Because I got kicked out." Not strictly true.

"Eat something, Rose."

They liked to say my name a lot. I didn't know how I felt about it then, now I wonder why I didn't punch them in the face.

"Alberta and Stan try their hardest," Liss defended, getting up and sitting on my bed. I turned around, not liking close proximity.

"I wouldn't know," I sighed, "I've only been here a week. I already wanna leave, though."

I did leave. Not as soon as I wanted to, but I left alright. I'm not going to blame it on Lissa, because I know it was my fault. I was the one who rung a number I knew of heart. Lissa tried to stop me; she even grabbed my old Mobile Phone out of my hand, her nails almost digging in to my hand. Almost. Maybe if they'd have dug in hard enough, I would've dropped the phone and stayed there and finished my GCSEs.

I remember hearing the gravelly voice I heard in my childhood. A voice I remembered shouting my mum's name, cursing it.

There was a great hesitance in his tone when he answered.

"Hello?"

I swallowed down my reservations and spoke in a voice that reminded me – not painlessly – of my mother's. "Isaiah, I need to see you."

"Janine?" I heard the near-fear; it made me want to laugh. "I-I thought you died," he stuttered.

"It's Rose," I said, swatting Lissa away with my leg. She kept trying to take the phone from me.

"Ah," he said, getting the bravado back I remembered from when I was a kid. "What do you want? Same as yer mum? I always knew you'd be the same."

"Yeah," I replied, exhaling somewhat shakily. I hoped to God at the time that I'd never end up the same as my mum. Now it seems slightly probable.

"Ah. I'm guessing you remember how much it is?" I did. "Still live in Gloucester?" He didn't wait for my reply. "Meet me by the hill at eleven tomorrow night."

Willow House was supposed to be my permanent house. At least until they found someone willing to adopt a 'problem child' who was basically brought up in a life of prostitution. That's how I was 'made'. My mother needed some way out a debt with some drug dealer. They obviously had no condom or the condom accidentally split, thus creating Rose Hathaway: Me.

My grandmother – a woman I have never met but am told was awesome – wanted me. My mother didn't initially. She wanted to abort me. Sometimes, when I'm at my lowest, dropping after an almighty high, I wish she had aborted me. Then she would have inadvertently aborted all of my unhappiness. But my grandmother didn't want that. She wanted me, even if my mum didn't. Even if I don't know her, I still love her for loving me even before I was . . . well . . . me.

Anyway, I was supposed to live at Willow House for at least another year - unless I was adopted, of course. But all hopes of that flew out the window when I ran away.

I was fifteen and a half when I grabbed my bag – already packed from my stubbornness – and fled Willow House. I tried to be as silent as a mouse, barely making a noise as I tip-toed across the room I shared with Lissa. But her eyes snapped open as soon as I reached for the door.

"Rose," she screeched, not quietly. "You're leaving?"

I nodded my response.

In the looming darkness of our small room, I saw her swing her legs over the side of her bed, revealing herself fully-clothed. "You're not leaving without me."

"No . . . No Liss; you're not coming."

"Why not, Rose?" she countered, bending down to pick up a brown bag that looked too small to fit anything but a pair of jeans in.

"Because you don't know what it's like out there. I do."

"No, your mother does. Let me come. I can help you. I hate it here." She walked up to me and looked down at me – she was waywayway taller than me – with sad eyes.

"I'll come for you tomorrow. Meet me by the gate by the hill," I told her, hoping she'd chicken out by then. "I still need to see Isaiah about the crack." I think I saw her wince but then she nodded and got back into bed. "Meet me at nine in the morning, Liss. Make sure neither Alberta nor Stan sees you. If they do – we're completely fucked."

"I know," she whispered. "I promise I'll be quiet."

I met Isaiah an hour later, paying him quickly. The darkness engulfed him as our fingers touched and I wanted to maybe run away and hide and forget. But I didn't.

I didn't exactly regret spending money on something I'd only tried once. I wanted it. I needed to escape. I knew my mum loved it. When she crashed back down she'd always act wishful over the previous fifteen minutes. I'd tried crack once, when I was merely thirteen. I don't really remember it that well. It's a haze of nothingness when I think back to my childhood. Sometimes I don't want to remember, because remembering means experiencing it all over again. I don't want that.

Hi.

I posted this about a year ago on another account, but took it down – idk why, it got like twenty reviews on the first chapter – because of reasons I can't even remember. I have quite a lot of this written, so I'm just going over it and improving. If you've seen this before – that's why.

Also, it's written in tow different tenses.

Thanks, please review and tell me your thoughts.

Erin.