I once again apologize for the wait, how many people are left out there? I couldn't have lost all of you guys.

Charlie's pov

The streets were dark, rain pattered against the windshield quietly, lulling me into a false sense of safety. I stared at the passing trees, at the deserted street before us. 
"Puff puff pass, Charlie."
I muttered a quick apology and passed the joint to Dylan. 
Dylan sat behind the wheel, rolling through the streets in my beaten up Honda, I didn't want to drive, it's not easy when you're high. 
"Having fun yet?" Dylan asked, he handed me the joint back, I took it, lazily nodding as I did. I inhaled deeply, watching the smoke curl around it, it the air where it spiraled into nothingness.  He laughed, pressing on the gas. I watched the gauge number rise, he was doing 68, then 69, 70. 
"Slow down."
He didn't hear me, or chose not too. 
That's when the blue lights appeared behind us, a siren wailing with it. 
"Pull over!" I hissed, suddenly very much awake. 
"Fuck, dude! I can't, I'm carrying!" 
"Carrying what, Dylan!?"
He pulled a small bag out of his pocket, showing me the large crystals inside of it. 
"Fuck, FUCK!" Dylan hit the stering wheel.
The sirens continued behind us and he showed no sign of stoping. 
76, 78, 80.
A different light flashed suddenly, I was sure it was a camera.
85, 89, 92.
I watched as the lights slowly got farther and farther away, my heart rate both quickening and slowing seemingly at once. 
94, 97, 102.
Dylan turned down a street, and then turned again.
The lights were gone; after a moment, he slowed and hastily pulled into an alleyway, putting the car in park and shutting the lights off. We both held our breaths, waiting for the cop to suddenly appear, but it didn't. 
I turned to Dylan, "What the fuck was that?"
"Did you not see the fucking ice!? We would all have been arrested if I stopped, I can't go too jail! I've got my mom to think about."
"Yeah, and that's why you have fucking crack!" 
"Look, it's not that big of a deal, he didn't catch us."
"He took a fucking picture, Dylan! Of my license plate!" 
He considered this for a moment and said "This is your car," as if that suddenly put him in the clear.
"No shit! Dylan, I just want to go home."
"Don't start whining," I fumed at that, "I'll take us home in a minute. I just... want to wait."
So we rode home, driving very, very slowly. Dylan drove to his own house, stopping the car. before getting out, he turned to me, "I'm sure everything will be okay, me and my homies run from cops all the time, they never come back. Uh, good luck, I guess." Dylan was never a man known for his words, but nevertheless, I thanked him, and got behind the wheel, leaving for my own home. 

When I woke up, the cops were already there, two of them. My mother was horrified, sobbing as she watched her son be taken away in the back of a police car. For the next week and a half, I was locked in a cell with two other people, waiting for my court date to arrive. I had my ass kicked twice, pinched once, then kicked again. I was ready to be shipped off to jail after they searched my car, finding weed, and a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. 
And Dylan got off scot free, the bastard... 
When I was at my lowest, dreading the days as they became shorter and shorter he came. Now, I'm not talking about me suddenly finding my faith again. No, I'm talking about the old man in the blue polo. He walked too my cell, a guard trailing behind him, and asked if I wanted a second chance. "Take him," the guard said, "There ain't enough room in the jail house."
I took the opportunity, off course. 
I was taken to a repurposed school building, it was a mix of a therapy class and a rehabilitation center. A place where bad kids go and do good deads to help other people. Redemption.
There was classes, a sort of a "How to be an acceptable citizen in society again," there were soup kitchens, and the classic picking up trash on the side of a highway with a long pointy stick. We weren't allowed to leave, smaller rooms were converted into make shift bedrooms, with bunk beds and mini fridges. This place was paradise compared to the other options, but I didn't belong here. These were cold hearted criminals, people who assaulted people and robbed banks. All I did was run from a cop, with the added baggage of liquor and greenery. Well, it was still bad, but come on! It's not the worst out there. 

I suppose I should talk more about William. I should start with saying that he never wronged me, not personally. He treated me as an equal and a friend, and I thank him for that. William thought that everyone was good at heart, he thought that all they needed was a little push in the right direction. I hate to say how wrong he was, people like us didn't change.
Sometimes, he would personally teach classes, or give speeches about how anyone can acomplish anything, and every sunday, he would preach. I liked to go to his sermons, even though I wasn't that religious, it was nice to think that there was this big guy in the sky looking out for us. 
I was new myself, I didn't really have friends or enemies. And soon, I found Dylan. But in the mere weeks I was gone, he changed drastically. 
I was in the kitchen, pooring soup into bowls and handing them out to other "inmates" as they passed in the lunch line. 
"Would you like chicken or tomatoe?" I mechanically said, for seemingly the hundreth time that day.
"Charlie?"
I looked up in suprise, "Dylan? What happened to you?" He was paler now, thinner, and his hair had grown wild and unruly, it was usually brushed and neatly pulled back.
"No no no, what happened to you? I didn't know you were a lunch lady now."
I frowned at the comment, 
"You know mister Terrel?" William was with him, a clipboard in one hand. 
"Yeah, I guess, we kinda knew each other."
You were my closest fucking friend, you dipshit!
"What are you in for?" I asked, sloppily pouring chicken noodle soup into his bowl, Dylan hated chicken. See I knew this because I was his friend. 
William started, "That's not really import-"
Dylan cut him off, "Sexual Assault."
I didn't say anything, not surprised. Dylan had a tendency to get touchy with girls, whether to was concented or not. 
"I wish you'd be more descrete, Dylan. You act like it's something to be proud of."
A smirk played on his lips, as if he liked what William had said. 
"Well, Mrs. Terrel, I'd love to stay and catch up, but I've still got to see classes A through D. Hope you enjoy the lunch lady business."
"Yeah," I mocked his fake joyful tone, "Enjoy your chicken, it's made with love."
Dylan sneered as he left, a dark leer showing in his eyes. 
What happened to him? We used to be so close, Dylan was a good kid, and so was I. yet here we both were for different reasons. 
"William," I stopped the man, asking him the same question. He sighed, "I know you two were close, so I'll give it to you straight, Jordon." Dylan got into drugs, hard drugs, it explains that night in the car, the fact that he was carrying. He changed since then, becoming an entirely new person. He was in here for armed robbery, assault (Physical and sexual), and illegal possession and distribution of narcotics. (I didn't find this information through William, but through a sleazy snitch later on who was looking for a quick buck.)
I later caught him outside, he was at the basketball court. At least that part of him was still there. He was with some other people, one was a man with gauged ears, who appeared to be arguing with him. 
"Dylan," I called out, cautiously stopping a few feet away from the two. Dylan turned, eyes blazing with anger, "What?" He hissed, "Can't you see I'm fucking busy?"
"I just, I-"
He snarled, pushing gauged ears guy aside and stopped inches from where I stood, "You what? The fuck do you have to say to me?" His voice was dangerously low, brimming with uncontrollable rage that threatened to spill over. 
"The fuck is wrong with you!?" I spat out, "This isn't like you, Dylan! You were a good man before, but now you've changed."
"Changed" He laughed, "I haven't fucking changed, I've only seen what this worthless world had to offer, I've stared the devil in the face and spit on his grave!"
"Grow the fuck up, Dylan! You snorted coke, shot yourself up with heroine. You're fucking pathetic." I shoved him backwards, "And get the fuck out of my face-"
I didn't register the pain until I hit the floor, he had cut me off by throwing a punch that made white hot pain explode behind my eyes. Dylan kicked and punched me while I was down, and I couldn't do anything about it. Dylan was a bigger than I was, despite the drugs thinning him down. I wasn't a fighter, I spent my days smoking weed and grilling burgers for gods sake! I couldn't throw a punch to save my life. Blood started to trickle down my face, it got in my eyes, got in my hair. Only when I stopped fighting all together did he stop, he stood over me, and threw one last kick before walking away. And I stayed down, on the verge of blacking out. I focused on breathing, keeping my eyes closed as I desperately tried to slow my quickened heart. 
"Jeez, that looks pretty bad, man, you might want to go see the nurse."
I opened my eyes, finding that the gauged ears guy was staring down at me, a smile on his lips. 
"fuh-fuck off," I choked on my own blood and spit. 
But he didn't, he kneeled down and hauled me to my feet, carefully leading me to a bench on the side.
"That kid deserves to get his ass kicked,"
"Why didn't you do it?" I asked.
"Are you kidding? And risk getting my ass kicked?"
"You look like you could take him."
"Of course I can," Gauge-Ears grinned, "But he's already made friends, If I jumped him, other, bigger, people will jump me. It's how the game goes, Scene."
"Scene?"
"You're new to the scene, Scene. Names J-Dog, by the way."
"Jordon. I mean, uh, Charlie."
"Well, which is it, Scene?"
"Charlie."
J-Dog chuckled, "I like it, Charlie Scene."

_______________________________
Instead of just explaining William, I'm instead going to tell the story through Charlie's eyes for a moment, bringing in some of the others along the way.