He was always the person that could pull me back from the edge, away from the insane humanity I so desperately needed to escape. Unfortunately, this never lasted long, and I was plunged back into the mad world that was my life. My mother was a drunk, and my father had passed away when I was seven. This left me to take care of myself, which I didn't usually do on a regular basis. I got into drugs and alcohol, and had sex with a few too many men to care anymore. He did drugs, and drank as much as I did, but he was a little more down to earth. He was special though, and I have always loved him.

I leaned my head back, resting the back of my beanie against the dank brick and took another drag off of the cigarette dangling from my pale, lanky fingers. Another car passed by the dark alleyway I stood in, casting shadows onto the stone in eerie fashions, and I lazily watched them dance. A dull pain began to bother my middle and pointer fingers as the cigarette began to approach the filter, and I snuffed it out on the wall next to me.

Straightening up, I stretched out my limbs, and my heavy combat boots made loud thuds and splashed through after-rain puddles. The cool night air was thick with city smog and a sort of half mist. The streetlights were lit, throwing yellow light onto passersby. This was a calm street with hardly any traffic, a back road of Chicago, you might say. I didn't live here, I just liked the serenity and away-ness that it had.

My apartment was further uptown, in a decent neighborhood. I had left home after two minutes of being 18, and now, three years later, here I am. This, of course, means most of what I do is legal. I have an okay job as a waitress in a small café, but my real money comes from passing drugs. I know it's probably not the best way, but it's serious cash.

About halfway through my walk home, it started to drizzle. I tightened my sweater around my slim shoulders, trying to keep as much heat in as the small, fragile body of mine would let me. By the time I had completed my journey, the light drizzle had turned into huge tears of rain, and I was soaked.

I reached out with a cold, shaky hand and unlocked to door, letting the old wood creak open and welcoming the warm inside air to my wind bitten cheeks. As I walked through my entryway into my living room, I caught a look at myself in the hall mirror. My hair was limp, the thick blue streaks stringy against the black, and my make-up was smeared around tired green eyes.

Sighing, I shed my sweater and hat, hanging them on the central heater to dry. I pulled my cell out of my pocket, noticing the voicemail and two text messages that I had missed. The voicemail was from my boss, telling me that he didn't need me at work tomorrow, and the messages were from him. He wanted to see me. So, naturally, I texted him back, telling him I wasn't busy right now, and if he wanted to see me, he could.

Twenty minutes afterward, I was curled up in a chair with a book when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find him standing there in all of his unintentional perfection that heroes have. Yeah… He was my hero. He was the one that always pulled me back from the edge, as I mentioned earlier. He was my saviour.

I scowled. "Good evening, Kayle." He was exactly the person I needed to see, but at the same time he was the person I needed to be away from. His dirty blonde hair had just been cut, feathering out to just above his ears in that weird skater look that was acceptable on him. Kayle's eyes were a perfect shade of milk chocolate, with a golden hue that spread faintly toward the edges of his irises, and sparkled just then.

Kayle grinned, pushing his six foot one frame past me into my apartment. "Nice to see you too, Snitch." Snitch Elissabethe GraDelle- that's me. God, my parents had an imagination to call me that. I'm not saying that I don't like it, however. It gives me a sense of standing out, because I'm pretty sure that no other woman in the world is named Snitch.

I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm, closing the door behind him and sitting back in my chair. "What did you want?" I asked, staring at his back as he surveyed my walls, none of which he was unaccustomed to. I studied the back of his jacket, with the small, latent drops of rain trailing down the back, shaking and dripping down onto his worn jeans' legs as he turned to face me.

"Just checking in on you.." Kayle had a look of pure concern on his face now, the goofy smirk gone. "I don't want you to end up somewhere you don't want to be." He sat across from me, sinking into the couch, letting his lean body fall back into the cushions. "There are so many good things out there for you, and I don't want you to destroy them."

I shook my head, "I know, Kayle. I really do." I stood up, moving into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of Vodka and a glass. I stared at the bottle for a moment, lost in thought before ignoring the impending thoughts of yet another suicide attempt that he was again going to banish from my mind. "You want some?"

"Uh, yeah." He called to me, leaning across to grab the book that I had been reading. "What's this?" The cover was a pastel colour, with lines criss-crossing in a silhouette of a person. I guess you could call it a map.

I spun the bottle expertly to catch any spare drops of liquor before they spilled into the glasses, "It's Kind Of A Funny Story." Kayle glared at me as I gave him his drink and sat back down- the title was evident. I grinned, "It's about a kid who was going to commit suicide, but checked himself into the hospital before he did."

"Ah." He said, handing the novel back to me and taking a sip of the alcohol. "Mmm... Just what you need to warm you up on a cold day." Kayle held his glass out to mine for a toast, and I kind of just stared at it.

"Kayle… You should leave." I twisted my face, trying unsuccessfully to hide my emotions. I loved him. He was like the brother I never had. He was honestly and purely my lifeline, but I just needed to be alone.

He frowned, but understood. Well, sort of. Kayle sighed, and stood up, leaning down to give me a hug before leaving. "You know I'll always be there for you, right, Snitchy?" I growled slightly at this nickname that he simply could not get rid of, but I did know. And I believed it with all of my heart.