(A/N) this is a long chapter. Also, the language gets a lil rough. You have been warned. 

Every night when Alex went to bed, his mother left for work. She never told Alex what she did for a living, she was too ashamed. No other employers would hire her. Although she hated every minute of doing what she did, it was the only way she could provide for her son. Nearly everyone in the small town looked down upon her, on what she did. She didn't pretend to not hear what they were saying about her when she walked by.

 'Rachel Hamilton. Such a shame. I don't understand how she can show her face around here.' 

'That woman is such a disgrace, selling herself for a stranger's pleasure.' 

 'That whore should just die.' 

 Each and every day she heard whispers like these. The only thing the woman could do was put her head down and keep walking. She knew defending herself would just make things even harder on her, maybe even on Alexander. She tried as hard as she could to shield him from the glares and hatred the town threw at them whenever they left their bungalow. 

As he got older however, her son began to ask questions as to why the townspeople seemed to hate the both of them. He asked about her job. Deciding ignorance was bliss, Rachel continued to try to keep him oblivious for as long as she could. She couldn't hide herself forever though.

      •••

Alexander rarely paid attention to the voices he heard on the streets. His mother had always told him that whatever they were saying wasn't worth listening to. Alexander knew his mother was a wise person, so he taught himself to tune out the voices. One day, however, he heard something he couldn't quite ignore. 

He had been in the market one evening, trying to find a gift for his mother, as it was her birthday the next day. He had found a bracelet made of shells that he knew she would love. His mother had always loved jewelry. When Alexander tried to make his purchase, the cashier ignored him completely. Other customers were served, even though the boy was standing directly in front of the man.

"Excuse me," Alexander called, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the conversations happening around him. "I would like to make a purchase, sir."

"Are you sure you can afford that bracelet, boy? Your slut of a mother doesn't make enough money to pay for anything at this stand." The man's attitude surprised Alexander. The fact that this man knew who his mother was surprised Alexander. What the man called his mother surprised Alexander.

"My mother isn't paying for this, sir." Alexander said, mustering up all the courage he had. His mother had taught him not to talk back to adults. The boy felt a bit guilty, for he typically tried to obey his mother.

"Who is paying for it then? You certainly won't be able to pay for it. Whore's sons don't make this kind of money." The man said, turning to wait on another customer.

"Sir!" Alexander yelled. The market went silent at the sound of his voice. "I am paying for this. I have a job. I am not a whore's son, and my mother is not a slut!"

Alexander could feel the eyes of every person in the market on him now. He had just yelled at an adult.

Oh my God. I yelled at an adult. Mother is going to be so upset. Alexander thought, his eyes going wide at the thought of disappointing his mother. The man behind the counter quickly interrupted Alexander's anxious thoughts, when he calmly began to speak.

"Kid, if Rachel isn't a slut, why did I bring her home with me last week? If she isn't a whore, then you could tell me where you're father is. Why don't you go home and ask your mother how she makes her money? She can tell you herself that she's a slut. Now get out of here before I drag you out myself."

Alexander had alway had a quick temper, but on most occasions he had been able to keep it under control. This was the last straw for the thirteen year old. 

He finally snapped. 

Before he even knew what was going on, he'd lunged across the low counter, his small fists swinging at anything they could make contact with. Alexander saw red as he continued to swing at whatever he could.

The man, furious, grabbed Alexander by the back of the shirt and lifted him off the ground like he was nothing. Alexander continued to punch and kick and scream incoherently at the adult. Alexander saw the man's other fist coming towards the side of his face just in time to jerk his head backwards. Even so, there was a crunch as the man's fist met Alexander's eye socket and the side of his nose. All Alexander remembered before he passed out was seeing the look of pure anger on the clerk's face.

When Alexander awoke from his state of unconsciousness a few minutes later, he was dumped in in alley. The boy soon realized it was the alleyway a couple blocks away from the market, a good mile away from his home. 

His head spun, partially from the blow to it and the pain, and partially because of the thoughts that were running through his mind at top speed. He gingerly placed his palms to the ground and used his arms to push himself to a sitting position. Once he was sitting, he raised a cautious hand to the side of his face. He could feel the blood still dripping lightly from his nose, and when he brought his hand back down from his nose, it was streaked with red. He tried to wipe his hands on his already dirty jeans, and reached up again to assess the other damage. The excruciating pain coming from his nose indicated that his nose was most definitely broken. The area around his eye, he knew was going to be blackened with bruises by the morning, if it wasn't already. His eye was swelling already, he could feel the persistent throbbing.

Alexander's head continued to spin, so he sat for a few minutes just trying to stop the world from seemingly revolving around him.

 He prepared himself for the disappointment he was sure to see on his mother's face when he made it home. 

He began to prepare a story, something that may make him sound like the victim rather than the instigator. Shakily, the boy rose to his feet, leaning against the dumpster beside him to steady himself. 

He took a few steps and found himself on the ground again. He took a deep breath before rising again. This time he was able to walk out of the alley and down the street, breaking into a run when his legs stopped shaking. 

He arrived home just as the sun was setting. 

So, um, that was chapter 2. Lemme know what you think! 

And, as always,

Stay fiery!