Tw: , Suicidal thoughts, SA, Child abuse, Domestic violence, drug use.

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Song: Dagger slowdive

Relationships:

His Father – James. Jays's father was a violent alcoholic. He would physically, verbally and sexually abuse Jay. He would leave porn, alcohol, cigarettes and drugs around leading Jay to become addicted early in his childhood. He would bring around his friends that would also abuse Jay. Committed when Jay turned 18

His Mother- "Kayla." Was just as much of an alcoholic as his father. She usually lay passed out on the couch. Was constantly beaten and abused by Jay's father. Ran away from Jay when he was 10

The bartender- "Roxy". A pretty 25 year old bartender. Blond hair, dark eyeliner, wears punk clothes. Talks with a valley girl accent. Likes gossiping with Jay. She was also abused by her father. Ran away from home and now works as a bartender

Jay won't admit it but she's the closest thing he has to a friend. He finds her annoying and uninteresting but still listens and engages in conversation with her. He thinks she's the only person who can slightly understand him.

Jay grew up in a small southern town. It was a typical small town where everyone knew each other. One school, one pool, one church that everyone would meet at on Sundays. Jay knew from an early age he was different. It wasn't hard to tell. His family didn't live in a shiny suburban house with a picket fence. His mother didn't call him home for dinner. His father didn't play catch with him in the yard. His family didn't go to church on Sundays. He never stood a chance really.

They lived in a small rotting house on the edge of the street. The carpets and walls were stained yellow from cigarette smoke. The yard was full of cans, and the floors full of broken glass and the walls had the occasional hole in then. Jay knew they were poor. A lot of people in town were. But his family was different. Not poor like the Johnson's next door, the ones with six kids that played in the yard, that got free lunch at school, Not poor like the Lindsleys, who's mother died and who were given donations in church. His family was at the bottom. The dirt underneath everyone's feet. They weren't looked upon with those patronizing looks of pity, they weren't met with the "I'm praying for you, May god bless your heat" lines, they weren't apart of the Christmas play or the summer barbecues. They were the animals on the edge of town, the the house that kids weren't allowed to play by. Jay couldn't blame them really

Everyone knew what went on in his house. Everyone knew what the men showing up at the Spear's house wanted. By the bruises on Jay's body it was obvious. At first the townsfolk pitied him. A blonde woman, Martha, with shiny blonde hair and shiny teeth took it upon herself to drag him to church. "can you believe it, His own father! Poor kid" they'd say. They'd gossip right in front of him as if he wasn't even there. All the pity quickly dissolved when they found out their own husbands would frequent his house. No one took him to church after that. No more "poor kid, how could anyone do that to their own child". It was now "Filthy fucking creature. The devil sent him to tempt us"

His father- scum of the fucking earth, was tall, big, strong and violent. When he wasn't busy with his mother-Kayla, he'd beat Jay with a belt, his a bottle or with anything he got his hands on. It didn't matter if he was drunk or not. Jay was used to it. Besides there was nothing he could do. There was no point in resisting, in crying, in asking for help. Everyone already knew and did jack shit. Other people began coming over. They'd pay his father and then have their way with Jay. He didn't resist this either. He got used to it. This wasn't anything new, at least in his life. He always felt filthy, disgusting.

He had no interest in other kids his age. When he was six he was already taking care of the house, cooking, doing the laundry. He didn't give a if the other boys didn't want to play tag with him. He didn't give a if the girls didn't like. He had bigger things to worry about. When he got older, not much changed. The kids at school were just as immature. They weren't what he liked. At 15 he began to sneak out to a dive bar on the edge of town. Well, he didn't really sneak out, no one really gave a shit if he was gone. He would walk for an hour, past the highway and the forest. There stood a small bar that reeked of sweat and cigarettes. There, the men that weren't liked in town gathered, criminals, drug-dealers, anyone that didn't fit the image of a hardworking christen man. He sought them out. old, rough, creepy, fat motherfuckers. Anyone who didn't mind sleeping with an underage boy. And there were lots like that there.

One day, he came home from school. He saw his father hanging in the bathroom. He packed his bags the same hour and ran away across the country. He didn't hope for a better life, he just didn't want to deal with the burials cost. Now he lived in the city. It was a rat infested, crime ridden city that was falling apart. He was still poor, he was still being fucked by men everyday. He still smoked and drank. Nothing really changed in his life. Different place same shit.