Ever since that afternoon, the voices ain't stopped once. It's givin' me a fucking headach.

Now it's half a month later and, as usual, my flashbacks'r gettin' worse, 'n the voices'r just adding to my suffering.

I. . . haven't realy wanted to do much of anything lately. In fact, a few times this week, I literally just stayed in bed all day. The only people showin' concern'r the punks in my gang, but it's only because those fuckin' idiots'r completely lost without me tellin' 'em what to do.

I've been gettin' skinnier, because I won't eat. It's not that I refuse to, it's just that. . . well, every time I go to eat something, my stomach just feels full, and I end up gettin' a virus. Luckily for me, (I guess) I'm able to force down some stuff a few times a day. Although, I do throw up if II eat more than a little bit at a time.

Today, I thought it was gonna be one of those days where I just slept it all the way through, but Curly made sure it wasn't.

"Wake up!" He growled as I continued to try and ignor him, "I know you can hear me you dick!" He got on my bed and kicked me in the ribs.

I fell off, groaning in pain.

"What Curly?" I say in a more distressed tone than a threatening one.

"Get the fuck up, Tim, yer dumbass gang needs you."

I just waved it away, "They need ta figure things out fer themselves fer once."

He jumps off the bed and kicks me again.

"Here's some fucking news, Tim, if yer gonna be the leader of a gang, yer gonna have to actually LEAD it!" I flinched from the harshness in his voice, "Those fuckin' idiots'r breathing down my neck 24/7 saying "Where's Tim?" or "Where's yer brother, ya' little runt?" It's pissin' me off!"

"Not today, Curly. . . I'm too tired."

I heard him growl, and I practically felt him roll his eyes at me.

"I dun'no what's gotten into ya' lately, Tim, but you've been actin' like a little pussy! Right now, I'm yelling at you, and yer just takin' it like a bitch! Just look at yerself, yer pathetic."

That. . . That realy hurt. I gulpped and took moment to hold back my tears befor I replied, "I. . . I-I guess yer right, Curly. . . You can just lead my gang now, you'r obviously better." He stares at me, I can feel it. His glare was burning the back of my neck, I could hardly breath. . .

It almost felt like Curly had somehow transformed into. . . him, and that. . . he was staring at my body, wanting to break me all over again.

He then sneers and walks out of my room, saying, "Fine. You wanna be a lil bitch? That's fine with me! I'd do a better job runnin' that stupid gang of yers anyway." He slammed the door behind him.

. . . He sounded so much like him when he spoke to me, I almost puked. . .

Damn, here comes the waterworks again.

As I laid there, crying on the floor beside my bed, I thought about what Curly said. Maybe I should actually try for once in a while. I don't realy wanna give up on life! I'm still young, I've got so much left to do, and so much time to do it!

Do what? You'r a broke, pathetic, lowlife, hood. What could you possibly amount to?

My enthusiasm was immediately shot down. Damn that voice, I dont like it, but it's always right. . .

But, I'll at least try to live.

You shouldn't bother.

"Fuck you." I absentmindedly say outloud.

I ignor the nagging voice in my head as I got dressed.

As soon as I take a step out of the house, I squint from the brightness of the sun. I bet it isn't even bright out, but I ain't been outside fer a while, so I guess I'm just bein' a mole.

Despite the irritating sting in my eyes, it's pretty nice out. Not too warm, not too cold. It's quiet, but not too quiet. . . Wow, what've I been missin'?

I make my way to the corner store hopin' they still got my favorite brand of smokes. Thankfully, I'm in luck, and it's on sale! . . . Woah, I sounded a lot like a broad right there. Just. . . forget I ever said that, okay?

I took two packs off the shelf, and that's when I realized, I forgot my wallet. All well, maybe I can get back to the good ol' days of shopliftin'. I make myself look casual and slide the smokes into my inner coat pocket. The cashier was already eyin' me suspiciously, I just pretend like I don't notice.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that the cashier's look of suspicion turned into one of concern.

"Are you okay, young man?" That realy suprises me. I look over at him, not bother to hide my shock.

"Huh?" I say dumbly.

"You'r shaking young man. And I don't mean to be rude, but you look a little skinnier than you should."

At look at myself. He's right, I'm definately shaking, and thanks to wearing nothing but an old tank top under my open jacket, I can make out the outline of some of my ribs.

My God!

I gasp and put my hand to my face. I nearly went numb when I fell that my cheeks were sunk about half a centimeter in.

Glory!

"Look young man, if you'r having money troubles, y-you can have anything you wnat here for free! It's my pleasure!"

That only shocks me more.

"Uh," I say, "W-Why would ya wanna-"

"I won't take no for an answer young man, you'r in need of help, and that's what I'm giving you. Anytime you come by this store, just take anything you want."

"A-Are you sure yer boss is fine with that?" Why am I talking like the little Curtis?

"Please young man, I own this store. Now, no more arguing. Take what you want." He gives me a sincere smile and sets a bag on the counter.

I hesitate at first, then I take the bag and startfilling it with a bunch of snacks. As I rush out of the store, I hear him say, "Have a good day now. Come back anytime!"

My breathing is ragged. For some reason, I just don't trust that guy. I bet he just set me up so he could call the cops on me.

But then, my thinking changes up a bit. Maybe he realy was concerned for me? . . .

I think this guy's gonna end up bein' my first real friend!

I was just five years old.

Everyday after school, I'd go to this candy shop that's closed down now.

The shop owner let me have anything I wanted for free! He said it was because I was his favorite customer. He even took a few pictures of me and put it up on the wall behind the counter and in his office in the back.

One day, he asks, "Would you like too see how I make that homemade chocolate brick you love so much."

My eyes twinkled with exitement. "Yes! Yes! Chocolate!" I said jumpping up and down.

"Than come with me to my house, I'l' even have you for dinner."

I stopped jumpping and furrowed my eyebrows, humming, wondering if that was a good idea.

"I'm making spighetti!" He said enticingly.

To which I replied, "Okay!"

Later that evening, after we had dinner, I asked, "When are we gonna make the chocolate?"

The candy shop owner laughs, "Soon. . . But, we should play a game first."

I tilt my head to the side, curious, "What game?"

"Come here."

He gets up from the table and motions me to follow him. He led us upstairs to his bedroom where he locked the door behind him and took out his camera.

"Take your clothes off." He said hungrily.

"W-Wha?" Is all I manage to say before a hand goes across my face.

"Do what I say!" He yells in my face.

I cowar in fear to the foot of his bed and start working off my shirt cautiously.

"Yeah," He moans as I start for my leans, "I like that."

After I slid my jeans off, I hug my knees to my chest.

"All of it!" He growls and smacks me hard across my face again.

I start tearing up as I push down my underwear.

"Yeah, That's it." He moans, sliding his hands down his pants. He grabs his camera with his other hand and whispers menacingly, "Pose for me."

I cried through all of this. The tears didn't stop as he had me do a bunch of messed up poses on his bed.

After he took I don't know how many pictures, he pinned me, face first, on his bed. He trailed wet, sloppy kisses along my spine, making me shudder.

I laid there, still, as he did to me what my father was going to do two years from then.

I was running when I finally came out of that memory. I didn't care to stop myself though, so I just kept it up.

I'd ran for five minutes until I grew tied and sat down at the end of an alley.

So, I thought, Dad wasn't the first one to do that to me.

Oh, so you remember what happened with the candyshop owner now?

That voice again. . .

"Shut up." I whisper.

You know what else you remembered, but were too busy running to register?

"Shut-up!" I say more demandingly.

Nobody in your family noticed you weren't there that night.

I was about to yell something when I hear a voice say, "Hey!"

I look over at the dead end of the alleyway and see a tramp.

"You wanna buy somethin' that'll make ya' feel good?"