It's Complicated

Prologue

"Mitch! Mitch Grassi, get over here!" My mom yelled, and her loud obnoxious voice could be heard throughout the house. I sighed and stiffened, clenching my teeth as I slowly stood up. I had been lying on my bed with my eyes shut, awaiting sleep. Yet my mother was downstairs getting high and drunk off her ass, making as much noise as possible. I swear she did this on purpose.

"Cosa vuoi, mamma?" I asked her what she wanted in Italian, smirking slightly. She absolutely hated it when I spoke Italian around her, saying it was a cursed language. Only because my dad was Italian. The old ballsack left us when I was younger, maybe 10 or 11 and a few years later she took up drugs and alcohol. I blamed my father and only my father for all the shit I go through from my mom. What I have to deal with everyday.

"I told you not to fucking speak in that foul language," She snapped. Her eyes glinted with anger and I couldn't help but giggle slightly. She didn't scare me, and she knew that if she hurt me, I'd stop sneaking out to meet drug dealers and pay them with my body for drugs that only she used to ruin her own life.

"Che cazzo vuoi," I said, not backing down at all. I had asked her what the fuck she wanted, and I was implying that I already knew what she wanted. Wasting my fucking time.

"Heroine. The good kind, with the guy behind the alley," She demanded, snorting another line of crack. She knew perfectly fucking well how poorly Allen treated me, how rough he was with me when he took his payment.

"I'll be back before 3 am," I snapped, turning around and rushing upstairs. Tears threatened to spill out of my eyes. I know she has a fucking drug problem, and she's fucking addicted, but can't she ask for the easy stuff? I thought in resentment. I threw on some light clothes, knowing Allen, he'd probably rip them off anyways.

When I walked back downstairs, I glared at her. She met my gaze but didn't turn away in shame or anything. She was just like me, not backing down from any sort of challenge. "Why don't you get a fucking job," I muttered. I didn't want her to hear me, because that would make her laugh harder when I got home. Unless she was asleep when I got home. In which case I'd just leave the shit on her beaten up, scratched wooden coffee table for her to use once she woke up. Not that I gave a fuck. Not that anybody else gave a fuck about me.

-

I rounded the corner, trying to make as little noise as possible. I knew Allen would be there, he always was. Everyone knew him, hell, even a few cops were buddies with him. I looked to my right, seeing an alley. I immediately knew I was in the right place because there were loads of kids my age there, and they seemed to be having a good time. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else.

I walked to them cautiously, not knowing exactly how drugged they were, and kind of scared to find out. Actually, I really didn't want to find out. But dissapointing my mom wouldn't be the best option for me. At all.

I cleared my throat and they all turned towards me. I blinked in surprise- it was my friends. My friends were all here, and the assortment of drugs they were doing was unimaginable. Hell, these people weren't even my friends. They were people I hung out with so I wouldn't be a loner. People that I stuck with so I could feel less vulnerable, so I wouldn't feel the same fate as the kids we bullied and pushed around.

Some friends.

"Mitch, bro, is that you?" Jonah exclaimed. Jonah was tall, with dirty blonde hair and green eyes. He had slept with nearly every girl in our junior class, and even a few seniors as well. He had looks you could salivate over. Even if you were a straight guy, like me.

"Yeah. Hi, Jonah," I said, averting my eyes. I was in no mood to talk to him, I just wanted to get my mother's illegal substances and get the fuck out.