A/N- -Hey guys! This is my first fic so let me know what you think! Review’s would be greatly appreciated. I know it’s a slow start but I promise the story isn’t completely horrible!

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It was forever his drug. His quick fix, what ever you wanted to call this obsession he had begun to develop over the adolescent years of his life. It began to control his life. He never knew when it would be time to suppress the urge of getting more of the special liquid under his skin. The feeling began to take over his mind and body whenever an event happened that would remain in his subconscious throughout his existence. He couldn’t resist the feeling he got when another fragment, another piece, another part of his body would be scarred by the needle.

Today was another day when the urge to go to the shop was overcoming his soul. It had all happened earlier when he began his morning routine as normal. He woke in his cluttered bedroom of his small apartment located just down the block from where he worked, Blazin’, the CD shop his best friend owned. The alarm clock that was set for 10:00 had been going off for the past five minutes. He ran a hand over his buzzed, brown hair. His bright blue eyes were red from lack of sleep and his yawn showed off straight, white teeth. He climbed off the mattress he called a bed and threw on the closest shirt he saw, an over-sized black, wrinkled shirt. He had fallen asleep in his jeans after a long night of partying; which mainly consisted of drinking endless amounts of alcohol and picking up random girls at his friend’s, Steven, house. Not bothering to look in the mirror, he slipped on his beat-up sneakers and left the apartment. After walking down three flights of stairs, he stopped to observe today’s weather. The sun was shining and people roamed the street, occasionally going in to the small shops. He sighed and pulled down his hat above his eyes. “Something’s going to go wrong,” he said to no one in particular.

Any passerby who roamed Fifth Street, who would have happened to glance at the boy who was straight out of high school, would not have noticed anything out of the ordinary until they took a glance at his skin. His once white, flawless skin was now decorated in black ink. Any show of flesh that was visible to the wandering eye had markings lining the curves of his well-defined muscles. Writing and outlines ran the lengths of his arms. Most of the pictures, though, were of the smaller size and it wasn’t visible to a short look to make out what exactly they represented. Though, if you managed to see his right forearm, you could clearly make out a large cross and written across the middle were the words “R.I.P Trust”.

Just as he was about to open the glass doors to the shop, they burst open before him. “Justin, man, your mom’s been callin’ non-stop all morning. She keeps yelling into the phone but I can’t understand what she’s saying.” The boy who opened the door was 5’6”, which was a drastic difference to Justin’s height of 6’4”. He had bright red hair and deep blue eyes. He was well toned just like Justin yet it was obvious that they were nothing alike. Despite their differences, the two had been best friends since third grade. They both dealt with difficulties at home. His name was Malcolm Gavin Duerse III, but everyone calls him Gavin. When Gavin was growing up, his father abused him and his mother. Therefore, his mother succumbed to the distraction of drugs to forget, leaving Gavin to fend for himself. Justin and Gavin shared many unspoken-of moments where Gavin would show up at Justin’s home in the middle of the night, needing a place to sleep. No words spoken, no questions asked, he stayed as long as he wanted.

“Alright, alright, Gavin. What is it this time?” Justin followed Gavin into the back room. He proceeded to pick up the phone and call his mom. Justin’s dad had left before he was born; thus his mom raised him by herself. That is, until she started having loser-boyfriend after loser-boyfriend. Each and every time his mom and her current boyfriend broke up, she went on an all-out drinking binge for days. She has been known to be arrested more then once for numerous offenses. If she weren’t always getting into trouble, Justin would be off at college; he knew not to dwell on this though, for the option of going to USC had been forgotten long ago.

He dialed her number and it rang twice before he heard sobs that weren’t unfamiliar to him. “Jus-Justin! H-h-he l-l-eft me again-n.”

“Mom, calm down. What happened?”

“He…he said th-that he c-couldn’t be…be with an alco-alcoholic.” And at this point she burst into uncontrollable sobs. “Just, I-I need you to-to come home.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, he knew she was drunk also, “Mom, I can’t. I have a job now and if I came home I couldn’t work. You’ll get over this you didn’t need Rob’s broke ass anyways. All he did was use you for money for pot.”

“That’s not true!” The sobs had ceased for the moment and she had forgotten all about her dilemma and was now fixated on yelling at her only son’s judgment. “He loved me! And I love him! And yes you can come home! You will come home! I need you! You just don’t appreciate your own mother! This is the thanks I get for raising you for the past 19 years of your rotten life!”

“Mom, you know that’s not true.”

“Yes it is! You don’t appreciate me! This is why you are a good-for-nothing son! You’ll never get anywhere in life. You’re stupid and worthless!”

With those final words, before Justin could open his mouth to respond, there was a click at the end of her line. He slammed down the receiver and leaned up against the counter. Putting his hands over his eyes and taking deep breaths, he felt the urge come over him. It was what he needed; it calmed him down in times like these. He stood up and called out to Gavin. “Gav, I’m taking off. I’ll be back soon and just work an hour later.”

Gavin came out of the back and nodded while continuing to the back to restock. No words spoken, no questions asked, he knew what it was like. Justin took off out the door and stuck his hands deep down in his pockets and turned toward 7th Street. He tried to clear his mind of all the thoughts racing through his head. He recited the same monologue he did every time he is upset. He wished he were born somewhere else, to someone else, and destined to do something else. He wished it with all his might. He found himself doing this often and scolded himself. Justin realized he was never going to make it through the rough times thinking the way he does; it was just impossible. So, he made a plan. He would work at Gavin’s shop until he had a fairly decent amount of money. He split it with his mom and then take off. He wasn’t exactly sure where he would go, but somewhere far, far away was good enough.

He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice that he had passed by Ricky’s. Ricky’s was a tattoo parlor owned by the infamous Ricky himself. Justin has gone in there many times and knew each person by name. He would soon know all their life stories as well.

He smiled slightly to himself, for missing the store. He turned around to go in. He entered and heard the familiar tinkling of the bell. He saw Ricky sitting in the back behind his large mahogany desk. Justin always made fun of Ricky for having such a desk in a tattoo parlor, but still, Ricky wouldn’t get rid of it. Ricky was a big man of about forty-five years old. He had long black hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck and was sporting his famous aviators. As soon as he saw Justin, a wide grin spread across his chubby face. “Back for more, are we?”

Justin, despite his horrible start to his day, couldn’t help but smile. “Mom’s at it again. Heart’s been broken once again.”

“Ah, I see. So what are we thinking of for today?”

Justin sat down in the cushioned chair and took a second to think of something clever that would portray not only his anger, but also his frustration. “Today, I think we’re gonna go small. How about a Bacardi bottle with a price tag saying “LIFE” on it?” Justin prided himself on the different images he could come up with. It was his own secret talent in a strange kind-of way.

“I’m never going to understand how you come up with these things, Lil man; but your wish is my command.” And with that, Ricky pulled out the needle and continued to get the ink ready.

Repeating Ricky’s comment in his mind, pain flickered in his eyes. Quietly Justin mumbled, “If only life were like that.” But Ricky didn’t hear him because he was already outlining another one of the million tattoos covering Justin’s body.

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There we are! Remember..Review! Mucho Thanks!

Lala