Your mom was a drug attic. She spent all of your hard worked money on meth. She normally had men over for intimacy. You sat in your room, unbelievably tired from the beating you just got. You then heard your door open, the only man that she brings over that you like, Andrew. He was 20 years old. He walked in and closed the door, sitting next to you.

“Do you want some of these? I can tell you’ve got a headache.” he had a bottle of headache pills in his hand.