*****

Dawn woke up with a pounding headache. The damned sun was shining in her eyes. She hated the fucking sun, why couldn't it shine on somebody that fucking needed a headache, she already had one. She didn't sit up immediately, knowing that the movement would only strengthen the pounding in her skull. Fucking sun. She opened her eyes and recognized Jakey's morning breath on her cheek.

"Fucking lazy bastard," She muttered, getting out of bed and making it to the bathroom in three steps before she emptied her stomach into the toilet.

This place was a mess. She'd clean it but what would be the point. There was no one to keep it clean but her and she didn't care what it looked like. Ryan. Ryan used to keep the house clean.

She shook the image out of her head. She wouldn't think about Ryan today. He was gone. He was out of her life. It was for the best. She wouldn't think about him today.

As another wave of nausea took her, she failed again. She was thinking about him. What he'd say if he knew that she still started every day puking up the alcohol from the night before. That she still stuck needles into her veins every day. What he'd say if he knew she'd been living with Jakey three weeks but still didn't know his last name. God, he'd be so disappointed in her.

She shouldn't care what he thought. She shouldn't care. She was the grown up, she was the adult and he was just a fucking kid. His opinion didn't matter.

She got off the floor and brushed her teeth. Her hands were shaking. She needed a hit. Just one to start the day. She couldn't stop shaking if she didn't get something in her system.

She had to get Ryan out of her system. She'd cook a fix and then call him. She'd lie, tell him that she had a job, tell him that she wasn't drinking, that she'd been clean since she last talked to him…she didn't remember the last time she talked to him, but that was irrelevant. She'd make him proud of her. Even if it was all lies, he'd believe her and he'd be proud of her. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

She grabbed the mostly empty bottle from the previous night and took a swallow for inspiration. She sat down in her chair and her tray was still there. Who would've moved it, she lived here alone, well not counting Jakey. He was a man, he didn't clean. Ryan would always clean up after her. He took such good care of her, making sure her gear was put away safely and all the illegal shit wasn't obvious to anyone who might stop in. He looked out for her.

As the familiar sting brought her mind back to an even keel, she felt better. That was all she needed. Now she could focus. Now she could deal. Now she could call Ryan and wish him a happy birthday. It couldn't have been yesterday, it had to be today. He'd be so happy she remembered.

She couldn't find the paper she had the day before with his number on it but after a few minutes of rummaging in the drawer of the table beside her, she found a number with his name on it. It didn't remind her of the numbers from the day before, but her memory was shit most of the time. She dialed it. Her hands were steady.

"Hello?"

"Can I speak to Ryan?" Dawn didn't recognize the woman's voice. She sounded happy. She should be, living in Newport with more money than oxygen, she should have a fucking perma-grin.

"Can I ask who's calling?" Not as perky. Suspicious. Could these people sense 'poor'? Who the fuck was this bitch to interrogate her?

"It's his mother," She replied quickly.

"Oh. Hello, Dawn. How are you?"

Now she was nice again. Polite. But Dawn could tell that she was talking down to her. This woman thought she was better than her. Well she could go to hell. "Fine. Is my kid there?"

"He's still in bed…"

"You let him sleep all day?" Dawn snapped. It was nearly noon by the clock on the VCR.

The woman paused. "He's been a little under the weather…"

"You let him get sick? He's never sick," She said immediately.

"I'll get him for you."

Dawn waited as the phone lines lapsed into silence. She thought those people were taking care of her baby, that they were making sure he would be okay, but if he was sick, what the fuck were those people doing to him? What if they were making him clean the house, drive them around, be their fucking slave? What if they were mistreating her baby? Why would he be sick?

She waited for someone to pick up the line.

What had she done? She didn't know those people and she just left her kid there to die. They could be abusing him, beating him, making him prostitute himself, they could be evil to him. What if he needed her?

She lit a cigarette and listened to the silence.

He was fine. He had to be fine. Ryan was a strong kid, he was a survivor. No matter what those people were doing to him, he'd come out on top. He was an Atwood. He could make it through anything.

"Hello?" Ryan. He sounded just like his father. She didn't speak. She opened her mouth but she couldn't speak. It was so good to hear his voice.

"Hello?" He repeated.

She hung up the phone. She closed her eyes and let the sunshine warm her skin through the blinds. He was okay. That was enough. Her baby was okay.

*****