Drunk, Drugs and Living in the Dirt.

Matt's life is wasted, he is poor and drunk. Not to mention dealing drugs.

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2. Drugs

A punch sent Matt stumbling towards a wall, his arms stretched out. Trying to find a place to lean against: Trying to find a place to hold him, to make him feel safe. Another punch sent him sprawled on the floor. "Just give me the drugs and i'll leave." His cracked and croaky voice spluttered out into the darkness. A tiny packet full with pills landed in the dirt next to Matt and he reached out to snatch it up but just as his fingers closed around the packet, a huge boot came crashing down and crushed his fingers. His hand shot back to his body as his fingers curled up, blood gushing out from them. A tear rolled down Matt's face as heavy hands pinned him to the floor and greedy fingers rumaged around in his pockets. He felt what little money he had being taken from him.

"Now get lost!" Rough voices echoed around the street and a kick sent him skidding, dirt collecting on his aged jacket. Footsteps ricocheted everywhere and cruel laughter filled Matt's ears as he ran in the opposite direction to the drugs gang.

He reached the abandoned alleyway that was his home and sat down against a wall, burying his head in his hands. Shoving a snow coloured pill into his dry mouth he took a swig from his nearly empty bottle and burst into tears. His howls echoing down the alleyway. They had taken more money than the drugs were worth, he knew that. He was just too scared to get the money back.

He was always scared, as if terror was permantly sketched into his mind.

 

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