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no, not my family. They saw it as a betrayal of the family name. How pathetic. I worried that I couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to help Jonah, he was in too deep, and every time I’d tried to help him in the past he threw it in my face. I felt like I owed him because of things with Alex. I’d been behind his back when it came to her but you can’t fight fate and I didn’t want to. I couldn’t because my soul gravitated to hers. We revolved around each other; I needed her and she needed me. Nothing made sense if we couldn’t be together. I had so much wrong in my life that when she entered my life I knew it was right. She was my right. She was ten years old when I first saw her, and although we were only young, something clicked inside of me. I felt home, content even, for the first time in my whole life. People who have a shitty upbringing and get dealt bad cards are used to the bad but not the good, and when something as good and precious as Alex comes into their life, they need to realize it’s fate, a gift, something they need to hold onto with both hands. Maybe with something so amazing and good in their life they don’t have to repeat the cycle of what came before.
    I’d seen just about everything bad you could see in life. I thought it was normal, my Dad beating my Mom, but when he eventually killed her, I knew this wasn’t how other people lived, and not how I wanted to live.
    There were kids in my school who didn’t have a great home life, but mine seemed to be in the extreme. I owned it though. I was who I was but it didn’t define who I could be, and I wanted to be a pro hockey player with Alex by my side.
    It was hard for me to make friends. I was a lot more mature than my peers but on a team, playing hockey eclipsed all the shit in my home life. I was a part of a brotherhood there. I felt invincible on that ice.
    I struggled in school; I think it was communication issues. My vocabulary was pretty much grunting in acknowledgment when being spoken to and head nodding to shit I wanted from the dinner menu. It wasn’t that I was incapable or behind for my age, it was the simple fact that I wasn’t used to being asked my opinion or a question of importance. I also wasn’t used to being heard or taken seriously. My family wasn’t conventional or sane. It made it hard for me to relate to my peers and make friends. I was pretty much a loner unless I was on the ice with my teammates or with Jonah, and I didn’t care. I wasn’t raised on love and hugs so I didn’t expect it or look for friendships. I looked for a way out, a way I could count on just me and do what I loved doing.
    Most kids raised with the parents I had would have followed them down the dark path, but when you’re not fucked off your face on drugs but watch others lose their identity from them, it’s the best form of ‘just say no’ you can get. The message I got from drug taking is that it scars everyone around you, washes dreams away, and if it doesn’t kill you, it keeps you captive in its grip for life, or sends you to prison.
    One thing about my Dad; he didn’t use his own product or keep it on our premises. That being, said he didn’t stop my Mom from using it.
    We lived in a nice house on the outskirts of town, and despite being raided regularly, the cops never found drugs there. It didn’t stop them from seizing our shit all the time. I must have been through ten cells and five laptops over a two year period. We got the things back when they didn’t have enough evidence to arrest Dad. He was clever and had been raised in the criminal world by his father, whose name muttered was enough to cause fear amongst the dealers and thieves. He eventually got caught for a speeding ticket and just happened to have an underage hooker with him. Caught red-handed, dick out and cum running off her chin and everything. He lasted two weeks in prison before he was murdered by a twenty-year-old who was trying to impress another inmate. He