Ever since you were born, you were forced to live in a cramped house… with two addicts for parents who were nowhere near fit to raise children. You lived in a crappy neighborhood where getting jumped was always a risk… in a town where gossip spread like wild fire.

Your Dad was a traditional man… who drank alcohol like it was selling out in every store. Your mother was quiet, having you at only 17, but smoked her lungs out. You were dealt with a bad hand unfortunately… luckily you had a pit-bull your dad kept in the lawn and the neighborhood kids.

One cold morning, you were lying on your stomach in cheap sheets, trying to sleep off your headache from the previous night. You slowly woke up… hearing your dog Brody bark and your parents already arguing.

“Where the hell is the rent?” You could hear your mother ask, likely pacing back and forth.

“It’s fine… I’ll get it dealt with- Jesus.” Your father replied back harshly.