A/N: Ok, here is the first chapter, edited, and redone. Thank you so much to Sea Bur (my awesome beta). : ) Thanks for reading.

Thirteen year old Hyde sighed at the noises coming from the next room over; the sighs, moans, and worst of all the grunts. Despite his best efforts, the noises fought their way into his head, through the paper-thin walls, through the pillow and blanket he'd pulled over his head, and into his ears, just as they'd done every night since his father had left six years ago. Before his father leaving, it'd been screaming and arguing, his parents bellowing as they beat on each other all night.

Lying there at three o'clock in the morning, head throbbing in rhythm with banging of the bed frame against the wall, he debated on which was worse: the sounds of the pain or the sounds of pleasure. Either way, he knew he had to do something to cut through the noise, or he'd go insane.

He grimaced as he reached under the bed, and pulled out his bag of weed and his pipe. He wished he had something stronger – his mother's heroin or cocaine would be great, but she had her stash in the bedroom with her – however the pot would just have to do. He hated the drugs, hated not being in control, but sometimes it was just... necessary. So he lit the pipe, and in no time at all, had finished the bowl. Floating in a drug induced haze, he was almost asleep when...

"Steven!"

His mother's shrill voice cut through his high like a razor blade. Hyde slowly opened one eye, and glared at his mom for a moment, before closing it again. She stood in his door, naked except for her bathrobe that hung open, a cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other. Hyde shook his head, but answered anyway.

"Yeah, ma?"

"Head over to Ronny's. He's got a package for me."

Hyde sighed again, as his high vanished instantly. "It's three in the mornin', ma. I've got school tomorrow." At his mother's no-nonsense look, he hung his head. "We have money to pay him?"

Edna Hyde scoffed, and gave him the look that said she couldn't believe how stupid he was. "He expects you there at four. An hour for an eight-track. Make sure you're back and cleaned up in time for school. And weigh it this time!" She snapped over her shoulder.

Hyde nodded at his mother's back, as she disappeared back into her bedroom, and the noises resumed. After the ass-whooping he'd gotten from his mother's boyfriend last time, he'd triple-weigh the damn thing, and Ronny could go to hell if he didn't like it. Although it really wasn't fair; he was lucky he'd even made it home with the package last time, forget about taking the time to weigh it. Shit, he'd been in so much pain after leaving Ronny's last time that the older man could have given him sugar in a baggie, and Hyde wouldn't have known.

"Make sure you wear something clean!"

Hyde cringed at his mother's order, given in a high soprano that let him know the night was only starting. There'd be no sleep when he got back, not if she meant to keep that up. Of course, there was always the possibility of Ronny giving another concussion, but even then, there was a chance Edna's noises could keep him awake.

Something clean, something clean... Hyde searched around his bedroom for the least dirty clothing he owned, since he didn't really have anything "clean." His mother hadn't done laundry in over a month, and Hyde didn't have the money for detergent, even if he had gotten the desire to leave the sanctity of his bedroom and join Edna and her boyfriend in the kitchen. So most, if not all, of his clothing smelled like pot, cigarettes, beer, and sex.

For a while, he'd entertained the idea of asking Mrs. Forman if she'd do a load of laundry for him, but that would lead to questions that he didn't want to answer and the pitying looks she'd give him for the next few weeks, the looks that always made Hyde feel about two foot tall.

Fifteen minutes later, Hyde was showered and standing in front of the mirror, taking in the sight of himself.

His hair - that his mother oh-so-affectionately called his dirty, nappy 'fro - hung limply, still dripping water. He hung his head over the sink, and shook it fiercely, trying to get most of the water out, before brushing his teeth, wincing at the pain from his loose tooth, another gift from Curt, his mother's latest boyfriend. Bruises dotted his body here and there, along with a large black eye and dark bags under the other from lack of sleep.

Just four more years , he thought as he pulled on his jeans, a long-sleeved undershirt, and a flannel over-shirt. Four more years, then he'd be able to leave. He'd never have to see Edna, Ronny, or the boyfriends again. Just four more years. Then he could go. He could forget it all, in four more years.

If he lived that long.