Disclosure: I just had a birthday but wasn't given the characters so they are not mine L but one can hope right? I'll keep wishing "it could happen"

A/N: o ya this is © 2002 Ashlee B.

~ Chapter 2 ~

The year is 1980, I'm twelve years old...

*1980*

Chandler sits on his bed, covered in bruises, an open wound sits on his cheek. His mother walks into the room, knocking as she enters, "Chandler Bing!" she says obviously angry, "you were in another fight?"

He wants to tell her the truth so the beatings will stop, but he has been told that no one would believe him and the beatings will just get worse. He had every reason to believe that. His dad was the sheriff , a well-respected one, no one would take Chandlers word over his fathers, but the pain was too much. Chandler couldn't take much more he had to tell no matter what the circumstances.

"Mom, it wasn't a fight it was..." he stops. His dad has walked up behind his mother and gives Chandler a look that sends a chill up his spine.

"It was what?" his mother demands impatiently

"It was a fight" he sighed with defeat

"Chandler I honestly don't know what to do with you. I'll have to think of a suitable punishment, but as it stands you are grounded for two weeks"

"ok" he can feel his eyes watering up and wished she would just leave before he broke down in front of her

She backs away from the door and gives her husband a kiss on the cheek before heading to the living room. Leaving Chandler and his dad alone.

"Boy you better watch out" he stares at Chandler coldly, "you fuck up and tell someone you wouldn't live to see the next day... that's a promise" he slams the door as he leaves.

Chandler can finally breathe, something he hasn't been able to do since his mom left. He couldn't take it, the pain, physically and mentally was beginning to wear him down.

He could end it, with two swift cuts to the wrists. He would fall into a never-ending sleep, a thought that appealed greatly to Chandler. Chandler gave much consideration to the idea. He waited till everyone had gone to sleep, then he crept into the kitchen and got a knife.

When he got back to his room he put the knife to his wrist, the cold steel felt good on his skin. He began to drag the blade across his wrist, he stops suddenly and looks down at his wrist. The cut is about an inch long and seemingly deep judging by the amount of blood coming from the wound. Tears begin to flow as he realizes what he just did and was about to do.

He couldn't give in, he wouldn't give his dad that satisfaction. In doing so he would finally admit his defeat, his dad would win. He couldn't win.

He put the blade up and got a towel to wrap around his wrist then sat on his bed. He needed to think. He knew he had to do something his body couldn't take it. His chest was completely covered with bruises and he was weak all the time. He had lost a lot of weight and was pale.

He was suffering mentally just as bad. He had been put down by his father so much that he had started to believe him. Not to mention he was depressed all the time, a smile rarely graced his face. Plus his grades had dropped dramatically.

After a while of debating (and getting his wrist to stop bleeding) the best solution he could think of was to run. Pack up as much shit as possible and never look back. If he didn't he wouldn't live much longer, either his dad would kill him or he would push Chandler to do it himself.

He shuffled through the closet and found and old bag. He started stuffing it with clothes and anything he had he thought worth taking. He snuck into the kitchen for some food then left, hoping to never have to see his family again.

~*~

I lived on the streets for about two years. I got into drugs and started dealing.

I spent my thirteenth birthday under a bridge with a joint, heroine, and a syringe. I spent my fourteenth birthday… well I don't really remember my fourteenth birthday. I was too whacked out that day to remember anything.

Everything was going fine, well as fine as it could in my situation, until I didn't have the money to pay my suppliers. Which might not sound like too bad of a problem to you but you didn't know them, you'd never seen what they did to the people who didn't pay.

I had to pay, or my death would be a long and drawn out one. I had only one solution that was a sure thing, I had to go back home. Not to stay but to get some of my old shit to pawn. Believe it or not I had some valuable stuff and I needed it more than ever. Sure I could've knocked over a gas

station or something but I couldn't risk not getting what I needed. Pawning some of my stuff was a sure thing.

~*~

*1982*

'No ones home' Chandler sighed in relief.

He hadn't seen this house since the night he left, and hadn't planned on seeing it again. He crawled through his bedroom window. Suprisingly every thing was exactly like he had remembered nothing seemed to have been moved or messed with.

"Un-fucking-believable" he said out loud as he looked at his bed.

There was still dried blood on the sheets and blanket from when he cut his wrist. The fact that his parents didn't even care enough to remove the blood stained sheets and blankets from his bed would've hurt Chandler even a year ago but he just shrugged it off and went to his closet to find a bag.

"Fuck them" he thought as he searched through his closet.

He found his old book bag and started filling it with stuff, cds, and valuables. He finished and threw the bag out the window.

He could smell someone barbecuing and that's when it hit him, how hungry he was. He hadn't ate in what he guessed to be 2 days. He shook his head and put a leg out the window, he didn't have time to eat.

"Get in, get out" he said over and over in his head "Get in, get out"

He couldn't shake the stomach pain, he headed for the kitchen. He stopped half way down the hall and turned around looking at his bedroom. He knew he should leave, the risk of getting caught was getting greater by the second, but the hunger was unbearable.

He hadn't been in the kitchen long when he saw car lights coming up the driveway. He pulled apart the blinds just enough to see. Chandler's heart stopped, as his dad emerged from the car.

Chandler was scared to even move. He managed to crawl into the corner, hoping his dad wouldn't find him. The front door slammed, the wall Chandler was leaning against shook. He could hear his dads footsteps, and with every step Chandler found it harder and harder to breathe. (A/N: most of the house has hard wood floors) Chandler closed his eyes, brought his knees up to his chest, and prayed his dad would go strait to his room.

The footsteps got closer then more distant. His dad had gone down the hall. Chandler breathed a sigh of relief, and began to rise to his feet.

"Fuck"

Chandler froze.

"You've picked the wrong damn house to rob!"

Chandler groaned. He had left his bedroom door and window open.

Suddenly the kitchen light came to life. Chandler looked up, standing a few feet away from him was the man he feared more than death.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!?" his voice was slurred and angry

Chandler couldn't speak, he was breathing heavily

"Answer me!" he threw an empty beer bottle from the counter and it crashed next to Chandler.

"I… I… I uh" Chandler stuttered as he struggled to his feet.

"You… you uh what?" he stuttered making fun

Chandler stood still as his father walked towards him, he was paralyzed with fear.

CRACK! (A/N: sound affects heehee can't live without them)

Chandler crashed into the counter.

"Come on get up!" he kicked Chandler in the stomach

Chandler looked up at the counter, his vision blurry. The only thing in reach is the dirty dishes that liter the counter. Just as his dad was about to kick him again, Chandler grabs a glass, and brakes it against the side of his head. His dad stumbles back and grabs the side of his head, blood covers his hand.

Chandler leans against the counter trying to regain strength as he coughs up blood. His dad leans down and grabs a piece of the broken glass. Chandler looks up from the counter just in time to see his dad rising up with the glass.

Chandler's mind went into hyperdrive, he didn't even think. He did the first thing that came to his mind. He reached across the counter and grabbed a butcher knife. He turned around with just enough time to dodge the shard of glass, in his dads hand, that was coming for his back. Chandler didn't hesitate he jabbed the knife into his dads chest.

Gasping his dad fell to the ground. Chandler jumped on top of him and repeatedly stabbed him. All the memories of his beatings were flooding Chandlers mind as his anger poured out into the knife.

He was snapped out of his trance when he heard sirens in to distance.

"Shit"

Chandler jumped up from his dad and starred in disbelief. Five or six stab wounds covered his fathers chest. Chandler stood in silence above his father knife in hand, he was still alive but gasping for breath.

The sirens got closer and closer until finally the police cars pulled up into the driveway.

Chandler didn't even notice the police cars until there was a bang at the door.

"Mark! Mark open up! We got a call about a disturbance at your house"

Chandler began to panic, he dropped the knife and searched for a way out.

"Mark!"

Then Chandler remembered his window, it was more than likely still open. He took off towards the hall, he was at the opening of his room when he heard a loud crash. He stopped and turned around to see to front door come flying open and three policemen come barging in.

"Damn"

~*~

The next few hours are still a blur for me. I can remember getting to my window, getting half way out of it and having a cop pulling me the rest of the way out and tackling me to the ground. Then I was put into the police car and taken down to the station.

I only remember bits and pieces of the rest.

I can remember that none of my family came to see me except for my sister and my Aunt Nora. My mother had completely abandoned me, not wanting to hear my side of the story. I was dead to her.

My sister would tell me about our fathers condition. He was still in critical condition after a week, apparently he had lost a lot of blood and the wounds were deep. He had somewhere around one hundred stitches.

I hated myself for what I had done, I had sank to his level.

My sister would come every weekend until one weekend she told me that our father died. I killed him. One of the knife wounds had punctured a lung and it was too weak from the blood loss to recover.

I couldn't take the news I got angry and went off on her. I don't even remember what I said, but it was harsh enough to make her not come back

My Aunt Nora came to see me every once in a while. We would ignore the subject of my father. My mother was her sister so she couldn't help but bring her up every now and then even though she tried not to. Every time she did she would stop suddenly and an uncomfortable silence would follow.

Aunt Nora was always good to me. I would have never told any of my other aunts but Nora was my favorite and she knew it.

She was the only one who believed me when I told her about the beatings. My mom, sister, and other relatives thought it was ridiculous.

She brought me a cake for my birthday and was at my trial.

I staid in jail for a couple of months before my trial. I can remember every detail of the trial…

~*~

"All rise!, the honorable Judge Stuart Macher residing!" (A/N: heehee all you Screa|\/| fans know him)

The jury and spectators rose and sat respectfully.

The now 15 year old Chandler Bing was lead into the room in handcuffs. His mother, sister, and a few other relatives were scattered across the room. But the only one Chandler cared about being there was Aunt Nora and she was in the front row.

"Hi" Chandler mouthed to her as he was set in front of her

"Hey sweetie" She said

"How do you plead" the judge asked Chandlers attorney

"Not guilty with reason of temporary insanity" he stated

~*~

The trial lasted for about a week. It was the worst week of my life. My attorney told the jury that I was temporarily insane when I killed my father. He told them about the beatings. About how he used to drag me down every chance he got. But my father was a respected sheriff, who was going to believe my lawyer?

~*~

The trial lasted for five days. Chandler was waiting for the juries verdict. On the outside he looked calm, patient, collective but on the inside he was screaming. The wait was tearing him apart. Finally the jury filed back into the jury box.

"Have you reached a verdict?" Judge Macher asked

"Yes we have your honor"

"How do you find the defendant?"

"We the jury find the defendant guilty of 3rd degree manslaughter"

Chandler's heart stopped. A cold sweat came over him. He thought he was going to throw up.

"Chandler Bing you have been found guilty of 3rd degree manslaughter. I sentence you to six years in the New York Juvenile Detention Center, until you are the legal age of twenty-one. With the possibility of parole in four years. You will finish your high school education in the learning facilities available."

Chandler heard crying behind him and knew it was his Aunt. He wanted to cry himself but he didn't want to break down in front of all the people staring at him waiting for a reaction.

He felt Nora's hand on his shoulder, reached up and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Even though he was the one who needed the reassuring squeeze, being fifteen and being told that the rest of your teenage life will be spent in a jail cell is not an easy thing to process.

The bailiff walked up to Chandler and led him out of the court room to the holding area, where he waited to be brought to his cell. Where he will spend the next four to possibly six years of his life.

To Be Continued…

A/N: ok so what do you guys think? I tried to make this chapter longer its like 2000 words more so I hope you guys like it. I spent forever on it. Well tell me what you think. I love getting reviews be bad or good so keep 'em coming!

Ashlee