Paul Blackwell

January 12, 1992 New York City

Young Paul looked up at his father. He had turned six only just a few days before. His father was raging at him for being late. His mother had died in his childbirth. People said his father was once a nice man but his mother's death had ruined him. His father was highly abusive to his son. Now was one of those times.

"Paul! Didn't I tell you to come home at four?" his father shouted in his face. Paul was crying and could only shakily nod. "Then why didn't you come?" Father roared. "I-I-I forgot-" Paul stuttered and sniffled. "GO TO YOUR ROOM! NO DINNER FOR YOU!" his father shoved Paul into his room and locked the door.

Paul could only cry. His skinny body shook with sobs. His whole life had been this way. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a family which loved him. Paul stood. His father didn't want him or love him. So he would go. Paul slowly began to pack his meager belongings. His father wouldn't care at all.

So that night he left. Paul disappeared over his windowsill. He ran into the night. He wouldn't see his father for a very long time…

February 9, 2006 New York City

Paul laughed with his buddies at the bar. This bar was his second home. His drunk eyes roamed through the bar. Tomorrow he had to be up early for his job. He worked at an airport. He had a second job too. Paul had to steal the cashier money. It was so he could afford more drugs. Many people had tried to get him to give up taking illegal drugs and getting drunk. But their tries never worked.

They said that was so because of his father, though no one knew for sure. They whispered that his father had taken drugs and gotten drunk on daily basis. It was also said that Paul had been abused several times. These rumors were said right in front of him. But he was always too drunk to care. If he had told the truth, these rumors would be right.

For how would a young man like him go so wrong if there hadn't been a tragedy early on in his life? They said Paul had turned up on their doorstep when he was ten. He had stayed at the bar until he was old enough to care for himself. When he arrived at the bar he had already been addicted to drugs and alcohol. Which that rumor was true too. Paul was never sober unless he was working. His past was a mystery.

Paul stood. He had no more money for wine so he was leaving. His friends called drunk goodbyes. Paul left and went down the street. It was midnight. He walked downtown and settled down in an alley. He had no apartment or house. He lived on the streets. Being sober was something he hated. He had lost all memory of his past. All he could remember was that he had a job and where. That was all that was important. Even that was no longer as important as it had been.

Life was beginning to hold no appeal to Paul…

Okay so this is the first chapter to a dream I had last night. Boy I have NEVER had a dream like what I am writing down before. My other story is on hold so I can write this before I forget it. ENJOY AND REVIEW! Also listen to sad music while reading. It helps the mood.