If maybe Anthony didn't fucking try to steal, if he didn't steal, this wouldn't have ever happened. Anthony caused his own misfortune. He got greedy, and was caught. He tried to take more than he could hold, and it bit him back harder than he ever could. Now, he was stuck. Stuck in an endless cycle of sex and drugs. He couldn't have done anything else. He was useless, in and out—he knew jack shit. He doubted it'd give him any good money either. All he had to offer was his ass and his mouth. And it worked, it really did. He was steadily paying off the debt. But then a few months turned into a year, then into two years... and now three. His creditor was getting impatient, and every moment Anthony even thought about them, his heart filled with fear. Anytime Anthony spoke back, he'd be lucky to walk off with a bruise or two and some hurt feelings. But recently... recently they've been more violent. Promising things that Anthony cried at every night. He was terrified of those outcomes. So he kept selling and selling, those hands around his body became like a phantom touch, wherever he went. The slick smell of weed and the indistinguishable taste of alcohol kept their hold in his head every moment he lived. It was all he ever thought about anymore. Something to take for the edge, something to not make him feel. Maybe then, when they keep going after he refuses, he wouldn't feel it. Now, as usual like the low life he was, he was against the rainy, cold walls of brick. Several random bottles of Hennessey were displaced all around him, and he held one tightly in his grasp. He drank and drank, flicking his hand up and down trying to clench a thirst he knew that'd never go away. And upon that realization, his eyes watered. He couldn't stop fucking crying! No matter how much he tried to ignore it, the tears wouldn't stop. In a burst of pent up emotions, Anthony tossed the bottle of alcohol to the ground, splattering it across the alleyway grounds like a cheap lie. He watched as the alcohol seeped into a random drain, and his eyes struggled to turn away as he reached out to another glass. When the drink came into his hand, for a moment, Anthony thought he did not grab it. His eyes were blurry and it swam alongside the rain that drenched his clothes. Maybe if he paralyzed himself here on this trash-lined alley sidewalk, too incoherent to stand, his tormentor would be denied his revolting use of his body tonight. "Shit..." Anthony muttered softly as his hand instinctively reached to his cheek, already knowing there'd be a bruise there soon. "Shit...!" He repeated, shaking his head desperately and grabbing at the Hennessey bottle again, gulping it down desperately. As he finished, he placed it down next to him, although he almost fell over doing so. He bitterly twisted off each cap, raising the dark liquors in trembling succession to his parched lips. He really needed something to get rid of the impending feeling of hurt... of abuse... He was tired. He didn't have his coke, he was too broke at the moment to afford it. He was too broke to do shit! Not even eat. He didn't know the last time he had a refreshing meal. All because of his creditor. When the tears came, they refused to stop. Fat droplets trailing through his skin matted with grime. Anthony furiously swiped at the relentless humiliating flood even as his frame quaked with choked sobs. "FUCK!" A nearly full bottle crashed against filthy concrete, shattering in a violent explosion of glass shrapnel. He desperately grasped the remaining drinks, clutching a sloshing bottle with a vice-like grip. “Fuck...” He whispered quieter. Anthony knew that nothing would get better if he just got drunk off his ass. He needed to make money. In a lackadaisical movement, he shifted upward and pressed his palm against the grimy alley wall. His body swayed wildly, and as he moved up, he could feel the world seemingly motion upside down. A flurry of acidic feelings erupted within his body and without knowledge, a bottle he had no idea he was holding nauseatingly slipped from his lanky fingers, smashing onto the ground. He jumped at the noise, heart pumping as he pressed his head against the brick wall, feeling the rain pour down on him, adding extra weight. He could still feel the fear, the sounds, the touch. It wasn't enough. He hadn't drank enough. Suddenly, yet another loud, more blurred noise echoed across the alleyway in the sound of a boom... or was that a slam? A slam... of a door. Immediately, Anthony straightened out and he felt the sounds of heavy footsteps quickly approaching him, and his head flew back, seeing the one person that made his skin crawl. It's them! "Ah—fuuckk.." Anthony cursed under his breath, feeling the intoxicated fog catch up to him. He stepped backwards, "Listen. I ai—" He felt a piercing hot pain strike at his face as he was flung back against the brick wall. His head smacked back against the brick, and it sent him into a explosive world of colors. Anthony could feel the heat on his lips, dripping down fervently as he tapped his fingers against his face. Bruising. Of fucking course... What had he expected? "Please... I—" Anthony stammered before pausing abruptly, he measured himself, feeling his breathing becoming oddly quick and erratic. His fingers shook, and every step they took, he motioned back. "J-just—... I'm sorry, please... I'll try.."