Okay, so this is a flashback chapter, featuring none other than our own Jay Hogart. I don't know when his birthday is on the show so I just made him fourteen and neglected to mention the year or whatever. Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing, I love getting feedback, as corny as that sounds. Keep going, and enjoy this chapter.

A fourteen-year-old Jay lay curled up in his bed, his eyes closed, trying to ignore the screaming coming from down the hall. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of them stormed off to blow off steam. Last time it had been his dad, who slammed the door so hard it woke him out of a dead sleep.

He knew his parents loved each other. The guidance counselor at school told him that they just didn't know how to explain how they felt in words, that they didn't know how to deal with their anger. He decided it was easier to go along with that.

There was an upside to the neglect that resulted from his parents' bickering. He carefully opened his bedroom door and tiptoed down the hall and out into the garage. Quietly positioning an old stepstool under a high shelf, he stepped to the top rung and felt around. When his fingers hit a box he stopped and brought it down from the shelf.

He set it on the work bench that had been unused for years and returned the stool to exactly the same position it had been in before. He didn't want to cause any fights. He opened the box, his pulse quickening in anticipation. He removed a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

As he sat under the porch, inhaling the heavenly smoke, he listened to his parents' latest argument. He could tell it was something about money, based on how loud his dad was getting. His dad had always had a short temper concerning money. If a fifty cents went missing from the food money jar, Jay was grounded one week for every day it wasn't replaced--even if he hadn't taken it in the first place. He had no need for money; once every few weeks he would steal a cigarette or two from his parents' secret stash and sell it to the highest bidder. Cigarettes were popular in middle school.

He dropped the cigarette butt when it burned his fingers. He realized that he had already smoked the entire thing, that it was getting dark, and his parents had called it quits for that night. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the side of the house, taking deep breaths of the cold night air. He could see his breath but he was not shivering; he didn't get cold easily. Maybe it was one of the many survival instincts that came with druggie, loud, violent parents. That way, he could stay outside as long as he need to in order to avoid becoming a target of his father's fists. He shuddered at the thought. He still had bruises from the one time he had gotten in the way.

All he had done was enter the room.

"Hey, Sam, you wanna come over tonight?"

Jay and his best friend, Sam, were sitting at their lunch table. Since Jay had left his friends to hang out with her, they had stopped including him in anything. That was fine with him, though, because he had developed a crush on her.

She gave Jay an incredulous look. "What about your parents?" She knew about his mom and dad--the only other person besides himself and the school guidance counselor.

"They won't be home. My dad's going to a poker game and my mom's probably spending the night with some other guy." He laughed when she raised her eyebrows, surprised that he would make such an accusation.

"She's cheating on him?"

"I don't know, probably." He paused, not wanting to believe it for himself. "She's been 'going out with friends' a lot lately."

She thought about it and smiled. "Okay, I'll be there."

Jay was nervous and anxious at the same time. This was the first time Sam had ever come over his house, and he wanted it to count. He had given her a brief tour and gotten them both sodas, and now they were sitting on the couch, watching a random HBO movie.

They were sitting pretty close together and he had managed to rest his arm on the back of the couch, just behind Sam. He kept on sneaking glances at her, trying to figure out what she was thinking, if she felt the same way he did. He eventually leaned away from her to grab the volume remote, causing his arm to slide off the couch and around Sam's shoulders. As he straightened he didn't remove his arm.

His heart skipped a beat when she looked at him, her face unreadable. He nervously began to move away but she proceeded to lean into him, her head resting against his shoulder and her hand on his leg.

Finally came the most cliché moment of Jay's life. The couple in the movie they were watching began to kiss, the camera angle showing everything that was happening between the two mouths.

Jay and Sam happened to glance at each other simultaneously, and suddenly their lips were touching. She turned her body to face him, leaning back slowly and pulling on his shirt to take him with her. After a few moments of not knowing what the hell he was doing, Jay opened his mouth slightly and began to use his tongue like he had seen on the movie. Everyone should watch that movie, he thought as she did the same.

The two were so lost in their kiss that they didn't hear the door open or a bottle crash to the floor. Jay felt someone grab him by the back of his collar and yank him off the couch, then throw him to the floor. He watched in horror as his dad seized Sam's arm and thrust her toward the door.

"So, my boy Jay finally found a slut!" he cackled drunkly, shoving her against the door.

"Shut the hell up!" Jay shouted, scrambling to his feet and stepping toward his dad.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up, kid," his dad roared back. "I can make you wish you'd never been born."

Jay laughed in spite of the situation. "I hate to break it to you, but I've been wishing that since third grade!"

He knew that stung his dad, but he had been counting on that. His dad whipped around and stumbled toward Jay, arms out, ready to strike.

"Sam, get out of here!" Jay yelled to her, grabbing the phone as he sprinted to his room. His hands trembled as he secured the three locks he had installed on his door, jumping at every fierce pound on the other side of the thin piece of wood. His profit from selling cigarettes had allowed him to buy the three best locks he could find.

Jay lit the extra cigarette he had kept in an empty glue stick canister. He couldn't care less if his room smelled like smoke--it's not like his parents would notice anyway.

He let out a small laugh as he thought of the word. Parents. He could hardly call his mom and dad parents. What had they done for him, besides give him the means and opportunity to try virtually every drug out there? And they had left out dozens of empty beer bottles that allowed him to experience his first buzz.

They weren't parents. They were just there.

Jay tried to hold back his tears as he booked a motel room with his mom's credit card, the card that he had stolen months ago and still was not missed.

Just like he wouldn't be.