He threw up the contents of his stomach again, letting the stuff flow into the porcelain bowl before him. Matt hated what he was going through. He looked over his shoulder at the person behind him. The one who always made him go through this. The man behind him was big and nearly the age of fifty.

His father.

Matt groaned as he heaved again, until there was nothing left. Dry heaves only remained now. His father took another step towards him, stroking the greasy auburn hair that soaked to Matt's head. This is what he did all the time. Drugs and sex and then the aftermath. He would take a few hits of the substances the old man offered and then let the same man take his body. He was tired of saying no to the old man. He was tired of fighting against him. Then after all of that storm passed he would watch his son go through these symptoms of illness. Throwing up everything after his weak stomach couldn't hold down the shit. Matt sat back on his heals with a sigh. He did not care what happened anymore. His dad chuckled tiredly, singing in a light tone. He was doing that stupid creepy song that his mother used to try soothing him with. Then again this isn't his father, it's just a step father that his mother abandoned him with. He hated this man with all his heart, but he stayed out of loyalty.

He remembered the words he had said to Matt so long ago. Back when Matt did have dreams of leaving. "You and I are the same, kid. We live like this because society can't handle us. You and I are addicted and that's that. We wont ever break from this damn place."

Oh, how right he was. Matt, a sixteen year old boy, had tried doing good by getting a real job and managing himself right. People had said no to him, had said that he had nothing to be or no where to go. No one would hire him for a job. No one would accept him for what he is. He was stuck in this hell hole and there was nothing to be done about it. When his mother left, he had died with agony. She left him with a drug lord and a rapist who had felt it necessary to give Matt the same treatment his victims felt.

Matt looked to the older man, panting from exertion. "Look at us, we aren't even functioning properly today and we're already wired."

"We need more money." The burly man stroked his chin, the bristles on his face making a ichy sound. "You need to go get more money for us."

"I will. I'll go out soon and get us a lot more." The boy looked up at his sire, grinning with a empty look. "Just stay here and try going to sleep." He stood from the tiled floor on wobbly legs. Oh, God, was he even going to be able to function today? His legs felt like they were going to give out. He needed food. He needed protein.

He walked to the kitchen. The place reeked of filth and rat shit. The kitchen was disgusting. He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of milk, taking deep gulps. Then he went to the cupboard and grabbed a hunk of bread, taking big bites. There, he was fed. Now for business. Matt grabbed his torn jacket and stumbled out of the house until he was walking down the street in the cold. People did not pay him any attention. As far as they were concerned he was just the kid down the street. Everyone in this place was like he and the old man were. So they just nodded in his direction and kept walking. He walked for a dozen miles. Maybe a few hours had passed, but he had to be somewhere that no one knew him. Or things could happen. He came to a ATM finally, standing in line behind a blond female. The chick was maybe a inch or two taller than him and had a nice clean blond bob. Leather pants and a burgundy colored coat. The things people can afford when they have money on a daily basis…

Ten minutes later he was still standing behind the girl. He felt his patients wearing down as he moved his weight from foot to foot. This girl was not moving fast enough. "Come on, lady. Move it."

"What the fuck did you just say?!" The woman spun, looking at him with a fiery look. "Tell me what in the hell you just said!"

"I-I was just asking you to hurry. That's all." Matt looked away. "I'm in a hurry."

"I am not a fucking woman!" The blonde's fist's clenched with anger. "I am a guy! Look at me! I am a guy!"

"Shit…" Matt groaned, sighing. "I am so sorry. I really am. Now let's just move on and not ever cross paths again." He moved past the blond and began punching numbers into the machine. He had to get home. His father would be starting to get restless soon.

The boy behind him cursed again. "Hey, buddy, I don't think you realize who you're dealing with. I am not some one you want to mess with. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it. I said I was sorry." He glared at the screen until his mind went blank. He was not going to get angry at a no one. No way in hell. When the hundreds pushed out of the metal mouth, he grabbed the cash and jammed it into his pockets. This would be enough for the drugs they would be buying and the food. He turned back to walk away and found that the guy was still there. "What now?"

"You piss me off. You're stupid scum that shouldn't even be breathing." The blond scoffed, walking down the street. Boy, was he right. He was going to have to remember that one. Matt started his walk back home. Sure enough his so called dad was sitting on the stairs, puffing up on a hand roll. He was a mess like always.

"You took longer than usual." The man stated in frustration. Matt sat beside the man with a sigh.

"I had to go somewhere new. The other ATM's are empty from last time and no one changed them." He took the nicotine, taking a hit. "You're not supposed to be outside, dad. What happens when the cops find out you are still in town?"

"Fuck 'em." He shrugged. "We need to get to our guy before he goes back into hiding. He'll be gone by noon."

"Why would he be gone by noon?"

His father looked off into space for several minutes before looking at the younger boy. "He has to be careful with how long he stays out in the open or the cops find him again. So he only stays out for a few hours."

"Come on, dad. We need to hurry up and get this over with." Matt took his father by the arm, leading him down the street. They really were two of the same. His father needed him or he would die and that was that. Matt couldn't let that happen, or he would be alone for the rest of his damn life.

Nearly a half hour later they came to the apartment and knocked three times. The guy answered and let them in. Thankfully they were the only ones there and no one else. If there is a crowed it can get a little tough. And Matt did not feel like trying to make things work out. The dealer was a small guy, maybe ninety pounds at most. Then again everyone was like that in the neighborhood. He sat on a nice white couch and grabbed the TV remote. The guy was acting cool incase they were wired or looking for trouble. But Matt knew how they were going to do this and so did his old man.

"We need more." His dad looked around the nicer apartment. People with money had options, and selling drugs got you a lot of green.

"Already? That's gonna put a damp on things."

"Just give us the stuff so we can get the fuck out of here." Matt glared at the young man.

The dealer chuckled. "Fine, fine… What is it you want and how much?"

"H and some powder." His dad slapped the money down on the table, licking the chapped lips. Matt hated heroin, he hated everything about it. The powder was for him and that's how he would keep it. His dad was already too strung out to even think about quitting. He watched as the dealer moved across the room and grabbed the shit from the drawer.

Just when they thought they were in the clear, the front door burst open. A dozen police men came burling in, guns raised. They cursed and shouted commands. Matt was standing frozen in his spot, barely breathing as he watched his father make a run for it. Where was he planning on going? The police shot him down several times, sending his big body down as fast as Matt could blink. Blood sputtered up from the back and chest area. Matt screamed loudly, running for his father. He was held back by strong hands. The thrashing did nothing to help him get to his father.

"Dad! Dad!" The boy reached out, gripping the lapels of his dad's jacket. He pulled the older man trying desperately for him to get up. Of course the dealer was cowering in fear and asking for a lawyer. Thanks a lot, asshole. "Dad, get up! Get up damn it!" The cops pulled their catch out of the room, the auburn haired boy latching onto anything he could to stay where he was. Nothing was working. They took him down to the parking lot and tried talking to him.

"Son, we're gonna get you worked out, don't worry. But we need you're cooperation." This officer was maybe late thirties and already growing white hair. Well, for what little hair he had left. Matt spit on his shoe and looked away.

"My dad dies and I'll kill you." God, he really was going to be alone for the rest of his life.

The cop shook his head. "He aint going to die. We have a ambulance coming right now and we didn't shoot anything that will kill. Just gonna have some bad scars."

"I want to go home."

"Where can we get a hold of you're mom at?"

"She's dead." The kid glared through his greasy bangs. When was this cop going to stop?

"Aunt? Uncle? Any close relatives would be helpful."

Matt leaned against the car, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't know any relatives because they are all dead, ok? Are you going to let me go home or not?"

"We can't let you go home alone, kid-" The cops words cut short as he looked at a car pulling up. Volvo. The cop frowned.

"Don't tell me, social services?" Matt scoffed, kicking at a small rock by his feet.

"My son." The police officer glanced back at the car. It had parked next to the, maybe ten feet away. Matt could not believe his eyes. It was that blond guy from the ATM. Shit. He looked down again, hoping the guy didn't notice him and make a spectacle of themselves. "I told you to stop showing up at the scenes. You could get hurt."

"Mom wanted to make sure you picked up a bottle of whine on you're way home. You turned off you're phone." The blond smiled, glancing at Matt. His eyes moved over him like he was something in a lab. "What's the case today?"

"You know I can't tell you that, Mello." His father turned to Matt, telling him to stay where he was and then headed over to the squad car. He started talking on his radio and left Matt with this kid he had referred to as Mello.

He tried not looking at the blond, maybe that would help. "You really are trouble, aren't you?"

"It's all a misunderstanding." Matt kept looking at the gravel. Would his dad really be ok? Oh, God, even if he was, they would send him away for drug using and all the other criminal shit on his record.

"Right. That's all they ever say." Mello scoffed. He leaned against the car beside Matt.

The boy clench his teeth together. He wanted his dad…

"Are you even listening? I said sorry." Mello glared.

"Sorry?"

"For the whole ATM thing today. I shouldn't have yelled at you." Mello's father had a pale face when he came to the boys. Mello seemed to have known what was going on because he looked at Matt with a look of dread.

"What?" Matt looked at them. "What's wrong?"

"Matt, you're father didn't make it." The officer let a hand rest on Matt's shoulder. The boy's breath left him, his knee's giving out until he had no choice but to sit on the cold ground. "They were driving to the hospital and he just stopped breathing. There was nothing they could do."

"Be-because the shots?" He gasped, tears running over the pale skin. "It-It was the gun shots, right?"

"No, it wasn't from us." The older man sighed, shaking his head. "You're father's system quite because of the drugs. He just couldn't handle them anymore. I'm so sorry."

And for the first time in years, he let out every emotion he had, screaming until he was out of air. Crying until his head hurt from the strain. He was alone again.