Harley Jacobs sat up from her bed. She looked out the window, rain pouring down, beating against the glass rhythmically, and let out a sigh.

Why hadn’t he come yet? She had thought to herself. He could have at least called. It wasn’t like him. Although, it was raining pretty hard, so perhaps he was just running a little late.

She glanced at the clock beside her bed. 2:15 A.M. Fifteen minutes past time.

“He’ll be here,” she said aloud, trying to push aside that gut-wrenching feeling she had in the pit of her stomach.

Meanwhile, Mitch was in his room. His walls were covered with posters of his favorite metal bands. He tried to relax, listening, death metal escaping through his stereo speakers, which, in turn, caused vibration throughout the apartment. He had been trying to drown out the noise booming from the living room. Cole and his father, John, argued, apparently feeling the urge to express themselves to each other at the top of their lungs. What did they have to argue about at this hour in the morning? They should have been sleeping! He had to leave soon to meet Harley before she started to worry, and he was already fifteen minutes late.

“I own this goddam house! Don’t tell me to get out! You are the roommate, not me, John!”

“And what do you suppose I do? Take my fifteen year old son, who has spent his entire life growing up right here, and just hop on a bus and leave?

“No. Mitch can stay if you’d like.” Cole shot him an icy glance, amused at his own witty remark.

The truth was, Mitch didn’t care about either of them. He didn’t want to stay in the apartment, nor did he want to go off in search of a new life with his father. He hated his father. He hated his fathers life style. He hated this apartment. He hated his life. Mitch felt trapped. He was becoming more and more like his father with each passing day. And with each of those days, he had begun to hate himself more and more. The only thing in his life that had any significance to him, the only thing he truly cared about, was Harley.