Kylie Hein leaned against the wall by her bed, doing the best she could to fight the want of banging her head against it. Her cracked out parents were at it again, and their screams could be heard throughout the shabby apartment. She was positive that the neighbors could always hear, but they never complained. They would just stare at the small family when they came and left the apartment. It was a run down building in the slums of Chicago, and Kylie couldn't remember a time her life hadn't been that way.

She began tugging her long blonde hair, trying to suppress the feeling of crying as her light green eyes began to gloss over. Turning up her music player, she drowned out the sound of her psychotic parents fighting. As mentioned before, both of her parents were drug addicts. Her father had been addicted since before the day she was born, and her mother started using by the time she was 4. She had a vague memory of nicer apartments at a very young age, but as her mother started using, the worst they got. A life of moving around became normal for her, and being evicted from each place they lived in was routine. Her father, Eric, was also an alcoholic, who became very abusive towards her and her mother, Sloane. This in return caused her mother to take her anger out on Kylie, so she was getting equal abuse from both parents. "Parents", as if she could even really call them that. She would go to school and get questioned about her new bruises and black eyes daily. Kylie always gave the generic answers, "I fell down the stairs", and "I got hit by a ball". Despite the fact that her teachers knew very well it was a lie, they never pushed it any further. They would just give her sympathetic looks all day. Her parents had forced her to drop out earlier that year since they could no longer provide her with rides or supplies.

Kylie worked at a Sephora in the Woodfield Mall, where she quickly learned how to perfect her face. This turned out to be perfect, she was able to learn how to completely hide her cuts and bruises on her face. She also typically felt ugly, so it was nice to have something that gave her a confidence boost. Hiding the money she made from her parents was a bit of a challenge though, but she had been managing to do it.

Kylie tugged on the bottom of her black and gray plaid shirt to keep it from rising as she moved around on the bed to get comfortable. She bit her tongue lightly, an anxious habit. She sighed loudly as she looked at the time on her small, prepaid phone.

"10:34 P.M" was shown across the small screen, and she ran her fingers through her hair. She was exhausted from working all day, but was a little too nervous to go to sleep. She didn't like falling asleep when her parents were riled up. When Kylie was 14, her father had come home in a drunken rage, after a heated argument with her mother. He had pulled her out of bed and repeatedly kicked her in the stomach. She'd never forgotten that and was too scared to even think about sleeping while they fought after that. Kylie just couldn't wait till the 12th of August, she'd be turning 18 finally and she would be completely free of them. It was late June at the time, and she knew this final month of slavery to her disturbed parents would feel like a lifetime.

The fighting in the kitchen only got louder, which meant it wouldn't be ending soon. She debated on showering, but didn't want to go outside of her room. She decided on taking a walk, which she knew was risky at this time of night. The slums of Chicago were dangerous during the day, at almost 11, it was almost plain stupid to be a woman walking around at night alone. Kylie couldn't have cared less though, she didn't love life and losing hers didn't seem to bother her. Not that she knew of yet though.

Kylie pushed herself off the bed and pushed her iPod and phone into her back pockets of her jeans. Walking over to her window, she slowly pushed it open and crawled out of it. It was fortunate that their apartment was on the first floor, so sneaking out the window was easily done. After crawling out, she grabbed the corners of the window and shut it. She then turned and made her way away from the building and over to the park that was a couple miles away.

"Maybe Tyrell will go with me", she thought to herself.

:Downtown Chicago:

Michael Cole made his way through the old warehouse towards one of the doors in the back. Security was posted up everywhere in this place, all of them keeping a close eye on him. He walked by each of them, a serious look plastered on his face. Though on the inside, he was smirking. Nothing entertained him more than showing these annoying pests that he was superior to them. As they neared it, he reached up and adjusted his black tie. Once they got to the door, the two guards who stood in front of it nodded towards the man leading him. Michael reached up and pushed back the small hair that was falling into his eye. He smoothed back his dark brown, almost black hair. His dark brown eyes fixated on the door as one of the guards stepped to the side to open it up. Once he turned the knob and pushed it open, he went back into his standing place. The man who had led him to the door held out his hand, gesturing him to go inside. He could see that inside of the room was an office, and a man who was probably in his late 40's or early 50's sat at the desk. The man had very thin dark hair, it was medium length and greased back. He was skinny everywhere except for his gut, and wore a long sleeved, gray button up shirt. His hands were crossed on top of his desk and he seemed nervous.

Michael made his way into the room and studied the guy, he was extremely jittery, and he could tell that wasn't just the nervous affect.

"Fucking Junkies", Michael thought to himself.

The man he was coming to see was named Eddie Acossi, head of a fairly decent sized meth operation. Though he found it quite incredible that someone who was clearly using the product themselves could manage to stay on top.

The man named Eddie was a big customer at Michael's job, and he hired many of his "co-workers" for jobs he didn't want being traced back to him. Michael Cole was a contract killer, an excellent one at that. Yet, this was his first time working with Mr. Acossi, and with good reason too. He had never met the man before, and found his jobs petty and a waste of time. Michael was one of the higher up's, and demanded that his superiors gave the jobs to the newbies. However, Jen, one of the big boss's, had advised strongly he take this one on. She told him that an easier job would be good for him since he worked way too much. He was less than thrilled, but he owed Jen a favor and reluctantly accepted it. Now, here he was with this power tweaker. He was ready to just get it over with.

"Mr. Acossi", Michael spoke deeply, "what can I do for you?".

Eddie fidgeted nervously with his hands, "Why yes, ah...your..your agency gave you the money I transferred over, yes?", he asked.

Michael kept a serious face as he nodded, "Yes, I was paid in full. Now, what is it that you need from me?".

"I have a problem", Eddie continued, keeping his eyes on his very shaky hands. "It's this guy...who owes me money".

Michael raised an eyebrow at him subtly, he was growing impatient with how long this man was taking to give him details.

Eddie continued, "He always takes my shit, and always promises to pay back, bu..but he never does. I want you to take care of it".

"Is this a problem you've had with him for a while?", Michael questioned.

"Y..ye..yes", the man stuttered, clearly stoned out of his mind.

Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "So why keep giving him drugs if you know he doesn't pay?".

Eddie began scratching his head quickly, "I uh..I don't know. Trying to be a good guy, ya know? People take ya for granted sometimes".

"Mmm", Michael started, "You don't say?".

"Now", Eddie said, standing up, "I want you to get my money if you can, but if not, just get rid of him".

Michael's eyes focused completely on Eddie, a glare shooting from them, "Mr. Acossi, I'm not a fucking booker. I'm not one of your goonies. My job is to waste people, I'm not your damn bill collector".

Eddie became more noticeable nervous, and Michael couldn't help but feel pride in the way he easily brought fear to people. Michael had his 9 mm in his back pocket, along with some piano wire in the other, he'd use it on the man if he had to.

"Ah, of course you're not!", Eddie said, faking a smile and laugh, "I just mean if you find it after you waste him".

Michael smirked at him, "I'm glad to see we understand each other. So, why don't you give me more details on this".

"Ah, yes!", the man said, turning and walking over to a filing cabinet.

He pulled out the drawers and began searching for one, finding it only seconds later.

He walked back over to his desk and threw the manila folder in front of him.

"Had one of my guys put this together last night for ya. Wanted to make sure everything would be good by the time you arrived", Eddie said, sounding proud.

Michael grabbed the folder and opened it up. The corner of the folder read "Eric Hein", and had a few pictures paper clipped together with some paperwork. Eric, Michael's next target, was definitely a junky. He could tell just by looking at the horrible quality photo's that Eddie's men took of him. His target seemed to be walking down the street when the photos were taken. He had a buzz haircut, and he was really skinny, way too skinny. His face was sunken in, covered in sores, and he had stubble to compliment it everywhere. He had sad blue eyes, that seemed to also hold a lot of anger. Michael couldn't believe he was about to do this drug lords dirty work.

He pulled the picture from the folder and placed them to the other side, looking at the paperwork on this guy. Eric Hein had quite the criminal record, several DUI's, failing drug tests while on parole, domestic violence, you name it. He found the address to the man's current residence, which also seemed to change frequently. 220 Roosevelt St. , was the currently known address. No car, and was married to a woman named Sloane.

Michael looked over the papers a little longer, and when feeling satisfied, closed it and looked back at Eddie.

"When would you like me to proceed with the job?", Michael asked.

"Tomorrow night", Eddie said, a serious look finally appearing on his face.

"So soon, eh?", Michael said, feeling amused.

Eddie crossed his arms in front of him, "I want this fucker gone".

Michael looked over to the side with his eyes, trying not to laugh at this guy's attempt to seem hard.

"Sure thing", Michael said, keeping his tone serious, "I'll have one of the operators give you a call when it's done".

He then pushed the manila folder into a big pocket in his blazer and turned to leave.

"One more thing!", Eddie loudly announced.

Michael stopped, but didn't turn to look at him, "Yes?".

"He also has a daughter", Eddie began, "Nice looking little thing, nice body and beautiful face, her name is Kylie...I want you to take care of her too..as well as that bitch Sloane".

Michael's eyes bored into the door, "This isn't a package deal, Mr. Acossi. It's going to cost you extra".

"How much?", Eddie asked frantically.

"20 grand", Michael replied simply.

"Done", Eddie quickly responded, "Ill wire the money over right now".

With that, Michael walked out the door. He made his way past the guards and through the building, going back out the way he came. He could hear Eddie in the background telling the guards to "look after that nice man" and "make sure he gets to the car alright". He just wanted out of there, he hated being around these kinds of people. Unprofessional operations were a pet peeve of his. He made his way to the front and pushed open the old metal doors, walking over to his black Luxury SUV. He got inside and turned on the car. He needed to go over his notes and conduct a plan, but had no interest in doing it there. He made his way out of the lot, and back onto the road, heading back to his loft apartment. He would dig into this family more in comfort.

:Englewood Park:

Kylie sat on the swings with Tyrell, talking about the day and the latest drama within the neighborhood. It was nearly midnight at this point and they both were getting tired.

"Shit, you know how Lana is, man", Tyrell went on, "She's always starting bullshit with someone. Tannia taught her quick though today, you shoulda seen it".

Kylie laughed, Tyrell was always around when fights went down. She loved the guy like a brother, but she knew he loved encouraging cat fights.

She shook her head, "Why do I get the feeling you helped get that started?", she asked.

"Hey now!", Tyrell said defensively, putting his hands up, " Lana did say Tannia was a hoe".

Kylie rolled her eyes, "You're a mess".

Tyrell laughed, "No shit there. So whats the deal, man. Your parents are always fighting, and last week with your eye. Damn dude, my dad almost went down there and whooped Eric's ass!".

"Nothing new", Kylie answered shortly.

Tyrell frowned, but said nothing. Tyrell and Kylie had been friends since 7th grade and he was well aware of what really went on. His mother had called CPS countless times, but the never showed up. At this point, he just wanted her to be 18 so she could get away from the for good.

"Why not run away?", he asked, "It's not like they would notice, and you could just hide out for a month until it's legal".

"Maybe", Kylie responded, "I've thought of that, I'd just have to arrange some things. Haven't really figured out what all I would need to do".

"You could stay with us", Tyrell told her.

Kylie chuckled, "If my parents did decide to blow the whistle on me, your house is the first place they'd look".

"True, but you could hide under the bed", Tyrell joked.

"Because that would totally work", Kylie joked back.

They both laughed, not even because it was funny. It was just the only way they could get through these conversations. They usually got really depressing fast, and laughing was the only thing they knew to do to make it less tense. She was just glad it was almost over.

Kylie let out a yawn and stretched, "I should probably head back and shower. Hopefully Mr. and Mrs. psycho have gone to bed so I can shower in peace and get to bed. I have to be at work by 9 tomorrow morning".

Tyrell stood up and offered a hand to her, pulling her up.

"Yeah", he agreed, "And I got class in the morning. School is pretty lame since you left, but you already knew that".

"But of course", she joked, lightly punching him in the arm.

He wrapped his arms around her as they walked out of the park, "Let's get you home".