I came up with this story whilst representing a drug addict who blamed all her problems on the fact that her parents had died when she was younger. Being completely obsessed with A2A I, of course, tried to think how I could incorporate this into a fanfiction. It might be a bit dark and depressing, but I hope you'll give it a chance ;)

I do intend to keep up with Look Through My Window so keep a look out for updates on that!

I lost my dad when I was 13 so this is dedicated to everyone who's gone through what I went through and come out the other side relatively unscathed. There but for the grace of God...

2003

I'm dying for a hit.

I had one a few days ago after one of the other girls managed to get some gear smuggled in. I don't know how she managed to do it, given the strict searches they carry out in Holloway, but I was grateful to her for being willing to share with me. Not that she really had much of a choice once I found out she had some. I think back to her expression when I confronted her. Defiance mingled with fear. It hadn't taken long to persuade her that it was in her best interests to share.

It was just what I needed to take the edge off of my symptoms, to stop the shakes and the sweats that have been plaguing me since I was remanded two weeks earlier but it hasn't been enough and I've been restless since last night. I told my cellmate it was just nerves. It's embarrassing to admit that I am so dependent on a drug. A drug that has single-handedly helped me ruin my life.

The girl who was up before me comes back down the stairs into the dim light, her cheap heels clattering on the wooden steps, tears streaking her face. She looks about sixteen and she's shaking uncontrollably. I saw her earlier in the cells but she refused to meet my gaze and spent the whole time fiddling with her hair. I watch as the escort officer leads her back into the cell area behind us and the door slams shut behind them.

"First time in custody."

I look up into the face of the officer I'm shackled to. "What?"

"It's her first time in custody," he repeats. I try to look disinterested. The last thing I want to do is get into a conversation with him. They think they're doing a favour by being nice to you. I start kicking the ground with the toe of my boot, trying to kill time. "It's obviously not yours."

I look up again, "How do you figure?"

He shrugs, "I can just tell these things."

"Good for you."

"Lucy Hunt?"

The voice of the clerk of court echoes down the stairs and I take a deep breath before putting my foot on the first step. It feels like an endless climb but suddenly I am emerging out of the darkness into the bright sunlight of the courtroom. As I follow the officer into the dock, I look down into the well of the court and catch my lawyer's eye.

I feel sorry for Helen. She's represented me for years, ever since my first conviction in front of the children's panel back when I was twelve. She tries her best, but even I know that she is fast reaching the point where nothing she says is going to keep me out of jail.

I turn to face the judge.

"Are you Lucy Hunt?" the clerk asks me.

"Yes," I reply. I sit down on the hard wooden bench and glance around at the public gallery to see who has decided to come to court. I don't expect to see anyone I know but I'm wrong. "Shit," I say before I can stop myself. The officer looks at me and I shrug an apology. Glancing around again I see that I wasn't mistaken the first time. Shaz and Chris are sitting watching me, their faces unreadable. I don't know where to look. I haven't seen either of them for months and they are the last people I wanted to see today of all days. Their presence only compounds how shit I am already feeling.

Helen is talking to the judge, but I can't hear what she's saying. No doubt she's extolling what little virtues I have in a desperate attempt to keep me out of jail. When she came to see me in the cells earlier, she told me that she would do her best but not to hope for too much. I can't disagree with her. I've been remanded countless times in the past, but never actually served a sentence. Today could be the day.

"Miss Hunt really wants to change her life…" I catch a snippet of Helen's plea in mitigation as she turns fleetingly towards me, but then she turns back again and the rest of her words are lost. I look down at my left arm and study the criss-cross track marks caused by years of self-inflicted drug abuse. I try not to touch them for it only makes me want to scratch and if I start bleeding the officers will panic because of my Hepatitis C.

"Miss Hunt, stand up please."

The judge is talking to me, so I get to my feet to face him. Here it comes. Helen told me to expect at least six months.

"I've listened to what Miss Nixon has said on your behalf…and I am prepared to give you one final chance to prove to me, and this court, that you are motivated to change your life. I'm therefore placing you on probation for a period of two years with a requirement that you attend drugs counselling as and when directed by your probation officer." He takes off his glasses and looks at me. "This really is your last chance Miss Hunt. Do you understand?"

I nod, unable to speak, so great is my surprise. He nods and then, before I have time to really compute what he's said, I am being led back out of the dock and back down the stairs to the cells where I am put in with the young girl from earlier. She's sitting in the corner of the cell, her knees drawn up to her chest, sobbing into her folded arms. I keep thinking that I should say something to her, but what is there to say? Just looking at her I can tell she'll be the first to take a beating in Holloway.

"Lucy Hunt!"

The cell door swings open and I am being ushered out, handed my belongings and some paperwork and, moments later, am standing at the back entrance of the court, blinking in the midday sunshine. I look down at the paper in my hand and see that I have an appointment at the social work department tomorrow. It won't be the first one. I must have gone through at least five probation officers in the last five years.

"Lucy!" Hearing my name, I turn to see Shaz and Chris at the corner. They hurry towards me, or rather Shaz does. Chris is slower these days since the chemotherapy really took it out of him. "I can't believe you got out!" she says, stopping in front of me.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I say, squinting at her.

"It's just that….we spoke to your solicitor and…"

"Yeah well," I interrupt, looking down at the pavement.

"I'm pleased," she continues, but her tone is guarded.

I look up, "Are you?"

"Of course I am," she says, "we both are, aren't we Chris?" As usual, she doesn't give him a chance to respond. "But Lucy, you have to listen to what the judge said."

"I did."

"I mean really listen."

"I did!" I reply like a petulant child. "I'm not stupid, Shaz, despite what you might think."

She looks hurt and a very small part of me instantly regrets what I've said. "I've never thought you were stupid, Lucy, you know that. You've got the best of both your parents. You could be anything you wanted to be if you put your mind to it."

"Like what?" I ask. "A police officer like them? Like you?" She doesn't reply. "I didn't think so." I reach into the clear bag containing my belongings and pull out a packet of cigarettes. Lighting one, I take a long drag and then blow the smoke out into the air. "I should go," I say, suddenly desperate to get away from them.

"Are you going back to your flat?" she asks.

"Where else would I go?" I reply sourly. To my satisfaction, she looks slightly embarrassed. I should feel guilty but I don't. She was the one who told me to leave her house after promising me that she and Chris would always look after me. If she feels bad about it now, why should that be my problem?

"Have you got money to get home?" Chris speaks for the first time. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet.

"I'm fine," I say. He holds out a tenner and I'm tempted. Not for bus fare, but for a hit. "I said I'm fine. But thanks," I add quickly. I can see the number eleven bus coming down the street towards us. "This is my bus so…"

"Will you come and see us?" Shaz says. "It's Julie's birthday next week and…"

"Maybe," I reply, holding out my arm to stop the bus.

"She'd love to see you."

"I'll try," I flash her a quick smile as the bus stops beside us. "Bye then." Before she can say anything further, I hop on board, drop some change, grab a ticket and head for the back of the bus. I glance out of the window in time to see Shaz and Chris's faces disappear out of view before taking a seat right at the back next to a woman who looks at my bag of belongings and then at me, disapproval marrying her middle class features. She clearly understands where I've come from.

When I get back to my flat, I find two weeks worth of junk mail behind it and a terrible smell from milk long soured. I scold myself for not being better prepared, then I remember that I didn't have a chance to come home between being arrested and being remanded. I kick the mail to one side and move through into the living room where dirty dishes still lie on the floor and overflowing ash trays litter the coffee table. It momentarily disgusts me that I live like this, but it is short-lived.

I need a hit.

It is summer and the dealers don't care who sees them. To a passer-by, they might simply look like people lounging on the estate in the afternoon sunshine. Those of us who know them, know better.

Despite the sunshine, I'm cold, another sign of my need. So I wrap a sweater around me before venturing outside again. Johnny is waiting only a few feet away from my door. He must have seen me come back.

"Lucy," he greets me warmly, "welcome back."

"Thanks," I reply.

"Tenner bag?" he asks casually. I nod and he reaches into his pocket, lifting out the magic drug. I scrabble in my pocket and wish I had taken the tenner from Chris. "If you haven't got it…" he says.

"I do," I say quickly.

"Look, I know you're just out of Holloway. You can have this one on credit." He holds it out to me. "Pay me tomorrow." I look from him to the bag and back again. You can never trust dealers. Owing them a tenner today means you owe them a score tomorrow. But I know that I won't be able to get through the night without something, so I reach out and take it, trying to ignore my trembling fingers. He smiles knowingly. "Don't use it all at once."

I nod my thanks and hurry back to the flat, closing and double-locking the door behind me. You can't be too careful on this estate and after what happened to my parents…

I hurry into the bedroom to prepare. As it hisses away, I lift the belt and wrap it tightly around my arm, surprised to actually find a useable vein. As I draw the liquid into the syringe, I think back to the first time I ever tried heroin. I couldn't bring myself to inject, so my 'boyfriend' did it for me. I'm not sure I ever thanked him for putting me on the road to hell.

As I touch the needle to my arm, I look up briefly and catch sight of the photograph of my parents on the bedside table. It was taken at the annual Metropolitan Police Dinner Dance three months before they died. Mum is wearing a navy blue velvet dress and Dad has on a tuxedo. They look happy together. I wish it was how I remembered them, but every time I close my eyes, all I can see is them on their knees, Dad begging the gunman to shoot him and spare Mum. I try to block it out, but all I can hear is the screaming.

The needle slides into my arm like a knife through butter and it takes mere seconds for the drug to enter my bloodstream. The feeling is indescribable, like I'm floating, as though all my problems are far below me. It always amazes me how people can say heroin is so bad, when it makes me feel so good.

I can feel myself sinking into the welcoming darkness. I'll sleep tonight and I can think about the future tomorrow.

A future where I will free myself from this drug.

I am sleeping when they come. It's the bang of the front door that wakes me. I lie in bed, clutching Barney Bear and listening to the raised voices. I hear a strange man's voice and then Daddy shouting and Mummy's high pitched scream between them.

Another bang. The smash of glass.

I push the covers off and climb out of bed, still clutching Barney. Tiptoeing to the door, I push it open. Light spills into my room from downstairs and I can hear the voices more clearly.

"Get on your knees."

"Piss off."

"I said, on your knees!"

"Do what he says, Gene."

I move to the top of the stairs but I can't see anything so I slowly move down, one step at a time. My heart is thumping in my chest. Halfway down, I stop. I can see into the living room. Mummy is closest to the door. She is on her knees.

"You think you're so clever, don't you Hunt?" I hear the man talk again. "Well you're going to regret it."

"Look," I hear Daddy again, calmer this time. "You can do what you like to me. But you let my wife go, do you understand?"

The man laughs. I don't like the sound of it.

"Please…"

"Please…" the man is making fun of Daddy. I slide down another stair and now I can see Daddy. He is also on his knees. "I'm in charge Hunt and I can do whatever the fuck I want."

"Shoot me."

"Gene…" Mummy's crying.

"Let 'er go and shoot me!"

I hear a strange sound, like metal being pulled back across metal.

"Oh God…" I see Mummy start to shake.

There is a loud bang.

And then another.

My head is thumping. I cannot believe the pain. My limbs feel so very heavy and when I try to open my eyes, it proves impossible. They appear to be glued shut. I take a breath and am relieved that I am able to. There is a moment, after every hit, when I wonder if I will wake up or whether it will be my last hit. So far so good.

At first there is peace, silence but then suddenly I hear a rushing in my ears and I am assaulted by noise. Cars, people, birds…they all seem so loud. With enormous effort, I am finally able to open my eyes and see nothing but blue sky above me. The light hurts my eyes and I screw them shut, rolling over onto my stomach to get away from it and my face meets cold, hard concrete.

"Bloody 'ell, are you all right?"

The voice is familiar, but I can't place it. The concrete is cool and inviting against my skin and I don't want to roll over again, don't want to open my eyes again.

"Can you 'ear me?" The voice comes again. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I mumble.

"Well you can't lie there all day. You'll catch your death." A hand touches my shoulder. "Can you get up?"

My body feels unfamiliar to me. It doesn't seem to want to do what I ask it and it therefore takes a good thirty seconds before I am able to force myself onto my knees.

"That's it." A hand goes under my armpit and gently pulls me upwards until I am standing. I sway slightly as the blood rushes to my head and I feel myself being steadied. "Careful. Don't want you falling down the steps."

I know the voice.

"Shaz?"

There is a moment of silence before she speaks again, her tone guarded. "Yeah? 'ow did you…?"

I open my eyes and am rewarded. "I'd know your voice anywhere," I say. "But you…" I break off as I take her in. She looks different somehow. For a start, she's wearing a police uniform and her hair is darker. She looks younger too, as though the harsh realities of caring for me haven't yet touched her. "You look different," I say.

"What's your name?" she asks, frowning at me.

"What?" I ask her stupidly. "What do you mean, what's my name?"

"I mean, what's your name?" she repeats.

"It's Lucy," I say. "Who do you think? God sake, I only saw you a couple of hours ago." I sway as my head starts to pound again.

"You look like you could use a cuppa," Shaz says.

"I could use a hit," I reply, half-jokingly.

She looks at me curiously. "Why don't you come inside?" Putting her arm around me she steers me through some doors on my left and I find myself in a small reception area with another policeman standing behind the desk.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"Fenchurch East Police Station," Shaz replies.

"Fenchurch East?" I echo, "but…" I break off as the door at the far end of the corridor flies open, slamming against the wall behind it.

"Shaz, I need you to go through the files on Kevin Donnelly and see if 'e's got any known associates still out and about. There's a few doing long stretches but there might be another couple 'anging around that we don't know about. And do it before my missus asks you. Makes me look efficient."

I think I am about to faint. I know that voice. I know that face. I would know them anywhere.

"Yes Guv," Shaz replies, her arm still around me.

I stare at him. He stares at me.

"Who the 'ell's this?" he asks, his comment directed at her, but his gaze still on me.

"Dunno Guv. Found 'er lying on the front steps. Says 'er name's Lucy."

"She a tom?"

"Oh shit…" is all I manage to say before I hit the floor again.