A/N: Sorry about the lack of updates, I'll try to do better but I can't guarantee anything… But reviews do make me want to update faster. Don't really like how this one turned out, I'll try to make the next one better.
Disclaimer: Don't own them
And thanks for the help, Mrs. Heidi. 

Johnny ran blindly through the rain, not paying any attention to where his feet led him. He was soaked, his black hair was sticking to his forehead and his shirt was sticking to his back, socks soaked through his shoes. Where could he go? He didn't know anyone but the Curtis's, and he'd just left their house. How would he explain being out in the rain again? He continued to run, trying to get as far away from his house as he could. Finally, after a few minutes he sat down on the rain soaked grass under a tree. He looked around and realized he'd run to the lot he'd been playing football in earlier that day …

Looking around, Johnny saw it was very dark out. He didn't remember it getting dark, but he wasn't surprised because it had been such a long day. He liked it, in a way, because he got to know some people, maybe even made a few friends. But he hadn't liked his father, not much at all… With those thoughts in mind, tiredness overcame him and he laid down under the tree with only the branches as shelter from the rain, and fell into a deep sleep.

The light was pouring through his eyelids, the wind blowing softly in his ears. Johnny opened his eyes, thinking maybe last night had been a dream and he'd wake up in his slightly uncomfortable bed, but the one he'd grown used to. Feeling his wet clothes all around him, he knew that last night had happened and that he was sleeping in the one place he had good memories of; in the lot.

Johnny stood up, feeling his feet squish in his soaked shoes. They'd had quite a rain the night before, and he needed some dry clothes or he'd get sick and he knew it; so he started to walk home and was relieved when he saw his mothers' car in the lane, but his fathers car wasn't there. Johnny smiled to himself before entering his house.

"Mom?" he called out, walking into the kitchen looking for his mother.

"Mom?" he called out again, but still got no answer. He walked around the house for a minute, looking for her … It wasn't a big house, so where could she be?

"Mom!" he said as he saw his mother sitting on the chesterfield, watching the television with a blank expression on her face as though she didn't even see him. "Hi," he said, jumping onto the couch beside her.

In reply, she stood up and walked away, turning off the television as she passed it, leaving a very confused Johnny on the couch.

"Mom?" Johnny asked, standing up and following her out into the kitchen.

"What do you want, kid?" she asked him, very plainly, ignoring the hurt expression on his face at the word 'kid'.

"I'm cold, I had to sleep outside last ni-" he started to explain, but she turned her back to him and started busing herself pouring something into a glass from the refrigerator.

"I don't care, Johnny."

"But I'm cold…" he said, but his mother didn't answer once again. "Mom?" he asked, but at 6 years old he didn't realize how annoying his questions were to his mother.

"You know how to change. Get away," she said, and turning around she left a very sad Johnny in the kitchen.

Ignoring the cold engulfing his body, Johnny walked up to his bedroom and laid down on his unmade bed and fell into a sound sleep.

He woke up later to voices- he didn't know how much later, it could have been minutes, hours or days- he wouldn't have told the difference, yelling in the kitchen.

"Fuck Dor, I'm asking you where he is!"

"And I'm telling you, Chester, I don't know!"

"I know he was here, the kitchen floor is all wet! You calling me stupid, huh Dor?"

Johnny was coming to full awareness and realized what they were talking about; him. Him and his mother were fighting over him.

"Damnit Chester, you know I ain't calling you stupid! I don't know where the kid is, I ain't seen him around since he was down here pesterin' me!"

"So he was home, then?" Johnny's father roared.

"I already told you, the damned kid was home and annoying me to all end, then I left and I didn't see him since!"

"How do I know you're not hiding the fucking kid?! You always liked him more than I did, I never liked him! Hell, I don't even think he's mine you little whore-"

"You know he's yours! It's you that was sleeping around, not me! He looks exactly like you!"

"Like hell he does!" Johnny didn't know what they were talking about, something about him, so he stood up and walked towards his door and stood in the doorway so he could hear what they were saying more clearly, maybe it would allow him to understand what they meant more clearly, if he heard the whole thing …

"He's a god damn bastard! Ain't like we'd have gotten married had the kid not been born, fucking world going to shit around here!"

Johnny heard a door slam somewhere in the house, and heavy hurried footsteps hurrying up the stairs. He quickly ran back to his bed and pulled a blanket over him, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't see him. He held his breath when he could sense that someone was at his door, and he knew it was his father.

"I know you're there, kid," he said, his voice cruel and cold.

Johnny didn't move when he heard the footsteps coming up to his bed; he didn't breathe when he felt the blankets being ripped off him.

"What do you think you're doing, kid?!" he screamed loudly, and picked Johnny up easily by the shirt at his shoulders.

"What?" Johnny asked in a quiet voice, only to be thrown to the floor.

"You-never-going-to-be ANYTHING!" he screamed, punching Johnny in the face between each word with a stinging noise that, leaving fist marks on Johnny's face.

"Stop!" Johnny cried, lifting his hands to protect his face.

"You think I'll stop that easy, kid?" he screamed and lifted Johnny by the shirt again, this time throwing him against the wall, watching with a smile on his face as Johnny hit the floor with a thud.

"Don't let me see you again, kid," was the last thing that was said before he left the room, leaving the lingering smell of alcohol behind, and a thoroughly broken, sobbing Jonathan Cade laying on the floor.