AUTHOR'S NOTE: For readers of my other stories 'Rebellion' and 'With Friends Like These', I apologize for my hiatus. My writing schedule is pretty much non-existent but I'll get back to posting chapters for them soon. Rebellion may take a while longer because the next chapter is where a lot of stuff goes down and it's long and intense...

Anyhoo... this little... thing... is literally something I wrote in 15 minutes on my ipod while on the bike at the gym. Not even kidding...

So it's not the best, but I was just struck with a bit of inspiration and my brain spit this out. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

Dirt

He hated the dirt. He always had, but his hatred was worse now more than ever. It was everywhere. On the ground, the walls, the mattress he sometimes slept on… Under his nails, on his face and even caked in his hair. He hated dirt.

Dust

Dust accompanied the dirt. It was everywhere. Coating the furniture of abandoned buildings he sometimes called his home for the night. Streaks ran through the dust, marking the presence of those before him. He hated Dust.

Mice

The little vermin liked to crawl into his bed at night, cuddling up next to him for warmth during the winter months or creeping up his leg just to see what kind of reaction they'd get from him. It was never a pleasant one. He hated mice.

Bugs

They were almost worse than the mice. Almost. The mice were far more dirty. And at least the bugs were easy to kill. But then he'd have slimy insect guts all over his hand, or shoe, or whatever he'd decided to swat the annoying pests with. He hated bugs.

Cold

The winter months, which seemed far longer than the summer ones, were hard on him. He had nothing more than some thin clothes, tattered and worn from his rough life, and the corner of an alley behind the local bakery to keep himself warm during those times. He hated the cold.

Lonliness

He once had a family. A mother, a father, and a brother. He once went to school and had acquaintances he would dare to call friends. That was all torn away from him long ago. He had nothing… no one now… He hated being lonely.

Fear

It was his new friend. His new family. The mother that tucked him into bed each night he felt safe enough to close his eyes for sleep. He never knew if he would live to see the next day. He never knew if he would die of the cold or starvation in the middle of the night, or if he finally would run out of luck while pickpocketing and meet his end on the blade of a knife. It scared him just to think of it. He hated being afraid.

Danger

It was inevitable. He had to steal just to survive, and most people were armed these days, so pickpocketing was a life or death situation, quite literally, at all times. There were also the Military Police roaming the streets who would be more than happy to put a homeless runt like himself out of his misery. He hated the Military Police. He hated Danger.

Blood

It was in more places than he'd like to admit. Rarely ever his own, but that made it so much worse at times. He could never go a day without seeing the sticky red substance somewhere. He hated blood.

Death

It came along with the blood most times. He'd stumbled across numerous bodies during his time on the streets. Huddled in alleyways, under the porches of homes in town and even in dirty public washrooms. Some had died from the cold, others from hunger or disease, and even more and been killed. He hated death… especially senseless deaths.

Home

It wasn't ideal, but it was what the nine year old had grown accustomed to. Living on the streets wasn't easy. It wasn't clean. It wasn't safe. It wasn't fun. It wasn't anything Levi Ackerman had ever hoped to have to do, but what didn't kill you made you stronger. And, as the saying goes: There's no place like home.