Paxton had never felt like anyone cared.

He'd been tortured once again, beaten black and blue by someone he thought was his friend. He was vulnerable, bleeding, and he felt like he had no one anymore.

On his own in a dark alleyway, bruised and sore, he limped against a brick wall, fighting back tears - but he wasn't going to cry. He refused to give the last person he had left, that satisfaction.

“Dammit!” He muttered under his breath in a shaky pained voice, “I just wanted someone.”