Hollywood, California. A place where your dreams either flourish, or get crushed. Sure, there are many inspiring actors and singers here - that end up in the gutters, living off the streets, with absolutely no way to get home unless they can salvage a quarter to phone their parents/friends to pick them up. Nearly none of them can pick up the courage to do that anyways.

Me? I didn't come here to be an inspiring actor. I didn't come here for anything important. I'm a transfer from a hospital in LA, now I work as a nurse in one of the biggest hospitals. Sure, we see our share of blood and bones. It doesn't bother me anymore. I've seen it so many times before in a hospital this size.

My scrubs clung to me as I walked in the hot sun. It was 10 am , and already nearing 70 degrees. I walked along the strip, Homeless people stared at me. Begging for their money. wearing little clothes in the summer heat. I walked past them, ignoring them. Not out of a sign of disrespect or 'i hate them' kind of way - but the way as in I felt so sorry for them; I'd probably end up giving one of them my credit card.

But, finally. One caught my attention, curled up in a ball by a door frame, a bowling ball bag by his head, covered with a thin blanket - making a sound like he was in pain. My nurse instincts kicking in, even after working the night shift, I walked to him - and knelt down beside him, and put my hand on his shoulder, earning a few looks from some business men on the strip. He man looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot and scared.

"Excuse me, are you okay?" I asked loud enough for him to hear me. The man shook his head in response. "Well get up, get yourself around, I'll pull my car around and come get you, alright?" I said. The man nodded, grateful that somebody cared enough to help him. I stood up, going into nurse mode, running down the street to my Jeep. I got in, started the car, and drove off. Gratefully, the strip wasn't too busy because it was Sunday, and I found a parking spot right by where the man was lying on the ground in pain. I jumped out, and helped the man limp to the Jeep, earning more odd looks from business man. I was struggling, not only with the mans weight (not a fat man), but also with the stench reaching off of him. A few construction men saw me, and came to help.

"You need help, ma'am?" One asked, "You seem to be trembling under the weight of him."

"Yes, oh thank you." I replied politely. I switched off, and let the men help him into the jeep. While I went and grabbed his little belongings, that consisted of a thin backpack, a blanket, his bowling ball and it's bag. I picked it up, and ran to my jeep - throwing it into the passenger seat. The construction workers had finished loading him. I thanked them gratefully, and hopped in the jeep. I drove off, going to my house that I shared with my 2 year old baby. (With my ex-boyfriend. Don't ask.). I got out of the car, and thankfully my super nice (and cute) neighbor popped out from the fencing.

"Hey there, Rose!" He called smiling.

"Could you help me with something?" I asked, "come here for a minute." He walked over but not before giving me a funny look as I opened the back door. I showed him the man in the back of the car, and he (Jason) gave me a odd look.

"I'm sure you can't hear this very often," Jason said, his voice lowered, "But why is there a whining man in your backseat that reeks?" I smiled at Jason, and replied.

"Well," I replied chuckling, "He's homeless, and obviously in pain. My nurse instincts came in." Jason nodded understanding, and helped the man out of the car. I took the items that were his out of my passengers seat, and ran to unlock my front door. I unlocked it, and propped open the screen door.

I ran inside, and pulled everything from the couch. Swiping it onto the loveseat and the floor. I watched as Jason took in the man and laid him on the couch. I walked over to the counter, and got my emergency-aid kit. I had emergency stuff in there, stuff only paramedics would use.

I kneed on my knees and took the painkillers out of my bag, it's the kind you inject with a syrenge. Like I said, emergency.

"On a scale from one to ten, how bad is the pain?" I asked the man. He looked at me, I noticed his eyes were brown, his pupils large.

"Eight," He half whispered, closing his eyes breathing heavily. I gave him the medication, ignoring him jump. Suddenly, a few minutes later, relief swung over his eyes - and they drooped shut.

"Goodnight." I whispered, running my hand over his forehead.

Most of the day I left him lay there, on the couch, covered with a blanket, the house set on a cool 60 degrees in the 100 degree weather outside. Around 6 pm, he was still on the couch sleeping - and my ex-boyfriend dropped Annabelle, my 4 year old daughter, off at my house. With nothing but a quick "hello," and, "goodbye."

The doors to the parlor were closed, and I made Annabelle stay out. Together, we made dinner, lasagna and cottage cheese, and sat down at the dining room table and ate around 7:30, that's when we heard footsteps on the parlors wood floors.

Annabelle, looked over the white sliding doors of the parlor. The doors began to open, and the man whom of I picked from the street was standing there rubbing his red eyes. "Um," He said, his voice low and baratonish, "Thanks."

I simply shrugged at him, and gave him a good look. He had curly hair, that was grown , but not too grown. A dirty T-shirt and a dirty pair of basketball shorts. His shoes not looking like their holding up too well. And the smell.

"Mommy," Annabelle says to me, "Who's that man? He smells funny." My jaw dropped, and the man laughed loudly, his laugh booming across the small kitchen. I was confused, my daughter tells this man he smells, and he laughs.

"Annabelle!" I yelled at her, "Don't say that!"

"No, It's totally okay." The man says. He crouched down next to Annabelles chair, and she watch him. "I'm homeless, your mama helped me when I wasn't feeling too well."

"Homeless?" Annabelle asked questioningly.

"I have no home." He replied.

"why?" Annabelle asked.

"Okay," I interrupted, "May we have this conversation later? I'm sure.. um.. I never got your name." I looked at the man questionably, and apologized.

"It's Dylan." He replied, "Dylan Alvarez."

"It's nice to meet you Dylan. I'm Rose Price, and this is my daughter AnnaBelle Price. Um.. I'm sure you'd like a shower, there's some old clothes from my ex around here somewhere," I mumbled the last part hurrying off into the bedroom, tearing through the boxes in the closet.

"No," Dylan said, "That's alright. I don't mean to intrude. I think I'll just go," He went to turn around and walk out the door.

"No!" I shirked, "Please don't!" It came out as begging, and he looked at me confused then smiled.

"Okay," He smiled broadly, "I won't."