Hi.

So, you may have noticed that Nobody's Listening, and a few other things were deleted. I might continue the multichaptered shit later, but I just I don't know...everything I wrote was stupid.

So, you may be asking why I'm starting this given my current track record, the answers simple. I actually feel good about this, and I feel like I can write it easier and yeah.

DON'T KNOW. ONLY THING I OWN IS THE PLOTLINE.

The sirens are getting louder now. The pigs are getting closer.

‘Smooth Shinoda, real smooth.’ I think to myself as I turn another corner, forever running from the donut munching, coffee drinking pigs. My sides burn, and my lungs are screaming for me to stop.

I guess I really should quit smoking.

‘Come on, just a little further.’

As the lights become few and far between, I begin to think I’ve done it again. Gotten high, gotten drunk, gotten busted, but not caught. In my arrogance, I slow down, giving my body a slight rest. My legs cry out when I stop, and lean up against another graffiti covered wall. The only thing different about this particular wall is, its ‘my’ wall. This is my neighborhood. It’s where me and my homies hang.

Drug deals, prostitution, extortion, murder. You name it, odds are its happened in this place.

No, I’m not a drug dealer. And, no, I’m not in a gang. I don’t fuck old married men for money, I’m just another fucked up, angry teenage stoner. People tell me I’m a bad influence, I can’t imagine why. I’m just another teen on the run from the cops. But a bad influence? Nah, not me!

‘Fuck, I need a cigarette’ the thought barely makes its way through my intoxicated brain before I see the cavalry. I groan as they stop. ‘Joy, another MIP.’

“Shinoda, when are you gonna learn to not come here?” The skinny one says.

“Around the time you fuckers stop chasin’ me,” I reply before grabbing my cigarettes and a lighter.

‘Already in trouble.’

The two roll their eyes at me before casually getting back into their squad car, no doubt to get their little notebooks to write down that they’re about to give ‘Shinoda’ another fine.

“Getting more donuts? Or, perhaps you’re running low on coffee?” I shout out mockingly, before taking a long drag off of the little piece of cancer between my lips. Just to piss them off, and to make ‘em work a little, I take off running again.

It took Dumb and Dumber awhile to realize I had taken off again. I was down the block, and turning the corner before I even heard the engine. Then came the sirens. Of course, waking the few residents in the area. Now their screams were adding to my headache. We all should be used to this ritual, God, I know all the cops by name!

I get away as often as I’m caught. Both happen quite frequently.

After another block, I drop my cigarette, and duck into the abandoned train station. I make my way quietly past all the clutter, before reaching the end of the lobby. Safe is the only way to describe how I felt as I climbed through the window, that allows me a clean get away through the over grown field that leads almost directly to Tom’s. He’s basically my dealer.

I can’t help but to feel slightly blessed as I crash into the messy house, because most people like Tom would’ve probably shot me on sight, but he’s always had a soft spot for me, and is basically used to me coming in at all hours. Day, night, or early morning, doesn’t matter. If anyone else were to do what I just did, the least that would’ve happened, would be getting kicked out, after getting several broken bones. I’ve seen it happen. Not pretty.

“Running from the cops again?” Sandy, Tom’s fuck asks.

“How’d you know?” I ask the blonde haired, blue eyed crack whore. She can’t call herself Tom’s girlfriend necessarily, because she just fucks him for drugs. Crack, meth, cocaine, weed. Anything that’ll make her forget whatever it is she’s running from.

A true crack whore.

“That’s all you’re ever doing sweetie,” She replies after a slight pause. No doubt so the few brain cells left could process what I said, and then come up with something to say herself.

“That’s not true!” I exclaim in mock dismay, “I also party, have a job, and do a half assed attempt at school. Well, when I can be bothered to go, and not eventually ditch.”

Another pause before Sandy replied, “But all that leads to you getting in trouble and running.”

“Guess that’s true,” I say, “But I gotta get exercise somehow!”

Winking, I walk to the ratty arm chair across the room from the blonde. After shoving a hoody, some plastic bags, that no doubt once held drugs, and an old, holey blanket off, I plop myself down and pull out a cigarette. After lighting up, Tom stagers into the room, high off something, and possibly drunk as well.

“Hey, Spike,” He slurs as he sits, well drops on the couch beside Sandy, “What they catch you for this time?”

Cocking one eyebrow I reply, “What? You just assume I dropped in here at four in the morning because the pigs were after me again? Gee, I could’ve just been in the neighborhood, you know!”

“Right. At four in the morning,” Tom counters while loading a bowl of weed, probably laced with a harder drug.

“Exactly!” I chuckle before taking a last drag off my smoke, then stubbing it out in the ash tray laying on the floor by the chair. Sandy, starts humming some song I don’t recognize as Tom packs his glass piece. After gazing around, I realize we’re the only ones here that I can see.

“Quiet night?”

“Hmm?” Tom looks up questioningly. I gesture around the room, before repeating my question. “Oh. Yeah, only a couple regulars, and one new guy.”

“Who?” I question him, as it’s odd for him to sell to anyone new unless a regular brought the newbie along.

“Said his name was Mark,” He pauses to hit the pipe before continuing in a choked voice, “Said he knew you.”

I sit quietly for a minute, racking my brain for anyone I know by the name of ‘Mark’.

“Tall, dark brown, almost black hair, green eyes,” Sandy fills me in, knowing how hard it is for me to remember people when I’m fucked up.

“Oh! Yeah, I know him. He’s cool,”

Tom passes me the pipe, and even though I’m already so intoxicated I can barely see straight, I hit it. Inhaling deeply, I can feel the affects before I even take my lips off the mouth piece. Eyes rolling, I croak out,

“That’s some good shit.”

I pass the pipe to Sandy. I’m partially aware of her fingers lingering over mine, and her holding the pipe a few seconds too long. Before a real thought can be formed, they’re gone. Sighing deeply to myself, I chock it up to her being high.

Minutes later, after smoking four bowls, in I’m sure record time, I find myself laying awkwardly over the arm of the chair. Slightly cautious of falling off, but too stoned to do anything about it, and not entirely comfortable, I begin laughing insanely at the view of the carpet.

“Shit,” I mumble, “Anyone else hungry?”

Gazing around slowly, I can see two hands raised, and Sandy struggling to get up. Grinning stupidly, I can’t help to be slightly shocked. She may have killed off half her brain, yet, she still can realize what her ‘jobs’ are in this house. She may be Tom’s fuck buddy, but that’s it. She knows it, just as the rest of us, she can be easily disposed of, and replaced just as quickly. Plenty of whores with addictions out there, and she knows it. Therefore, she basically has to prove herself worthy enough, or whatever to stay here.

Namely, that means grocery shopping, and getting us food and drinks when we need it. She doesn’t pull herself out of her drug induced heaven for basically anyone besides Tom. But, I get special treatment because I’m Tom’s favorite, so she of course offers to get me something, like usual.

“Nah, I should be going,” I reply.

“You ain’t stayin’? It’s like, six!” Tom exclaims.

“I really shouldn’t. My parents’ll be pissed enough,”

“So? You might as well eat, and get some sleep before putting up with the hypocrites,” He explains.

I grunt in reply, and attempt to get up. The effort of just pulling my upper body into a sitting position is almost too much, and I slump backwards. Tom laughs before gasping,

“You aren’t going anywhere for awhile, dude. Sandy! Get Mike some of whatever you’re getting me.”

Instead of saying something, I flip him off, causing him to break out laughing again. After a moment, I join him in laughing about something that isn’t even funny. Gasping, I again try to stand.

“No thanks man, I really gotta go.”

Despite my valiant attempts, as soon as I’m standing, I fall right back into the chair.

“Right. Well, as much as you ‘gotta go’, you ain’t going anywhere, Spike,” Tom says between laughter.

I try a few more times to just stand, and walk five inches, before finally accepting defeat and settling back into my chair.

‘At least I tried.’

Before Sandy can come back with food, I feel my body giving in to the need to sleep. Not bothering to fight the inevitable, I ignore the rumbling in my stomach, and allow my eyes to flutter shut. Before I can fall into dreamland, I feel a pair of cracked lips upon my own, and a warm tongue invading my mouth. I moan slightly, but before I can fully react, the lips are gone, and I’m aware of someone staggering past me.

“I take it he won’t be eating this ‘eh?”

“He’s not leaving either.”

“I can see that,” Sandy replies icily, “You could have told me he was going to sleep.”

“I know, I’m sorry babe. Come here, and let me make it up to you,”

The sounds of Tom fucking Sandy are the last things I’m aware of before slipping into unconsciousness.

Review. I'll update.

Thanks!

-Bitty-