Sugar, We're Going Down Swinging

Prologue

10 Years Ago
-3rd person POV-
Patrick ran as fast as his legs would allow. Behind him, he heard the sound of the other boys' shoes slapping against the pavement. His heart was pounding so fast, he thought it would burst apart. The rain poured down harder, making it difficult to see as the pale streetlights flashed by in a blur.

"Get back here, you filthy street trash!" one of the boys shouted after him.

He'd only wanted to get some food for his sister, even though she was older. How did things turn so bad? Patrick clutched the bread to his chest as he ran. Tears ran down his face and mixed with the rain. Ever since his dad had died, Patrick had felt like it was his duty to take care of what was left of his family. And everytime he'd bought food with an honest day's earnings working as a paper boy, the rich boys would chase him across the city. When would they ever leave him alone?

In his urgency, Patrick hadn't realized that the boys had closed him into a dead end alley. He turned around to face them, backing up until his back was pressed against the slick bricks. He was suddenly glad for the freezing downpour, because the boys couldn't see him crying.

"You think you're going to take our business?" the taller boy said.

Was that what this was about? Newspapers? Patrick shook his head quickly. He just wanted them to go away. They closed in, one slow step at a time.

Suddenly, a shape jumped in front of Patrick. It took him a few seconds to realize it was a boy slightly taller than him. The boy had shaggy black hair and wore tattered clothing.

"Get lost," the new kid growled at the other boys, "This is my area." The boys glared at the new kid, clearly unwilling to leave without inflicting pain on Patrick. "I said beat it!" the new kid shouted.

"We'll be back for you, Stump!" the taller bully yelled as he and his cohorts ran away.

The new kid turned around, giving Patrick a view of his face. He had tan skin and dark eyes that were mostly covered by his shaggy bangs. "You alright, kid?" he asked. Patrick nodded, wiping his nose along his dirty shirt sleeve. "What's your name? Stump?"

"P-Patrick..."

"Oh. Well, I'm Pete. Pete Wentz." Pete held out his hand. Patrick shook it. "Come on, Patrick. I'll take you home," Pete said.

Patrick gave him the directions. They walked down the wet sidewalks, wary of anyone who got too close. Patrick seriously doubted those boys would stay away long.

"So, tell me about yourself," Pete said, trying to strike up a conversation.

"There's not much to tell," Patrick replied, "I live in an old shack with Meghan, my sister. I work as a paper boy, then go buy food for the both of us. That's pretty much it."

"What about your parents?" Pete asked, looking at Patrick with a side glance.

"My mother died after she had me. My father died in the war. Ever since then, it's just been me and Meghan."

Pete put an arm around Patrick's shoulders sympathetically, and he decided to change the subject. "Who are those boys?"

"Oh, just some rich jerks that beat me up because they think I'm trying to take their paper route. It's not like they need it," Patrick grumbled.