(Elliot; Send Nudes by Allday) This is just to get a feel for where you guys are with this story idea so I'm gonna need a lot of feedback and a lot of patience because the next chapter won't be out until probably 2017. Here we go:

|1.| unprotected sex and the recovery kid.

School sucked.

From every point of view, every way you could interpret it, every single nook and cranny, school was shit. School was shit when Oliver attended and school was shit after he graduated and left behind his stupid ass legacy. He was the recovery kid, big man on campus who'd survived depression with anger issues and a whole lot of court cases.

Oliver Remmer was it. He was the end all be all of my entire high school career and he was what everyone expected me to be: a carbon copy of my brother. A broken kid from a broken past with trauma and hate, they wanted me to be that. They wanted me to get bad grades just so they could make me learn. They wanted me to get into fights so I could realize the meanings of life. They wanted me to be this little clay ball all disfigured that they could mold and finally shape to be a helpful citizen in society.

Oliver wasn't the best role model but he was that sliver of humanity that they saw and ever since he'd graduated, I became a tragedy awaiting their beacon before I was considered an individual.

"Elliot."

I was sitting in another filler class, bored out of my mind when the teacher had called on me. With my feet propped on the table in front of me, I'd had my eyes turned down to the book nestled right below my ripped knees. The sides of the pages were slightly burnt by the lighter in my pocket, I'd had a fun night with some kid named Parker that I'd met downtown and we'd burnt up a few letters that his dead dad had left him. The kid had issues.

My book had barely escaped the flame.

Looking up, I'd caught framed eyes behind glasses as the teacher drowned on and on about the importance of safe-sex. I'd been in this class the year before, I knew what safe sex was, hell I probably had a better sex life then the teacher sitting in front of me his narrowed eyes pointed at me. He was also the track coach, I believe, fast enough to catch me if I ran out and smart enough to know who I was without asking.

"Hm? Mister..." Looking at the name tag on his chest as if I wasn't sure who he was, I raised a brow with a false model-student smile giving the people the show they asked for, "Anderson? What can I do for ya?"

Tapping the board, he raised a brow, "You can start paying attention in my class."

Anderson was a young teacher, new to actually teaching when the decrepit health teacher retired and they couldn't find a replacement fast enough. Anderson didn't really know me besides the fact that I always had medical notes to sit out of his class and I was absolutely sure he knew that almost all of them were forged.

My therapist wouldn't write me notes that I didn't need.

"I know everything you have to teach me already." I shrugged, laying back in my seat a bit more and closing Ender's Game on my lap. I'd read this book a million times and it was still one of my favorites maybe it was due to the fact that I was considered the runt of my brother and I. Could really relate ya know?

Crossing my arms in front of me, he walked closer and I felt Anderson knock my feet off the desk before leaning on it. Turning to face me with his hands tapping on my desk, he plastered a small smirk on his face as if my disobedience was somehow amusing, "Oh really?" That shocked me... Teachers never really gave me a chance to explain before tucking me into detention and sealing the deal with a tiny goodnight kiss on my record.

"Bag then shag but if possible, do not shag. Yada yada STDs are harmful and could be deadly, yada yada don't have sex." Rolling my eyes, I provided a smile in return to the man in front of me, eyebrow raised in order to provoke a reaction but he simply stayed silent. "But the thing is: we're gonna have sex regardless and people in this room are still stupid enough to go bare, aren't we Valdez?"

Turning to the boy seated beside me, I clasped a hand on his tense shoulder.

Christian Valdez: had a baby on the way from a one-night fuck with a sophomore. The guy was a senior and on top of final grades and college applications, he had to worry about this sixteen year old who'd originally told him she was a senior and on the pill.

Pulling at his hair, he stared down at his paper with wide eyes. He, along with me, hadn't been paying attention to the lesson but more so this paper where he was drafting out how much money would go to baby things.

I barely knew the guy but I could tell he wouldn't be absent in his kid's life, he wouldn't be like my sperm-donor of a father. I'd sat right beside him so of course we talked occasionally... Some days he was ready for this baby and others, he was well... Like this. "So stupid." Hitting at his head, he threw his pencil down. The guy should've been in a childcare program or home ec or something, this was just a waste of time.

But honestly, I couldn't care less, as I've said before: I barely knew the guy. He didn't affect me and even if he did, that was his dick that went into her, not mine and I'll be damned if I'm worried about what another man does with his dick.

If only Anderson would realize that, hop off mine, and start worrying about his own kids.

"Why not just let me stay silent and not care? I've already been through this class and I know enough to sit here with these condoms in my pocket and know how to use them when I fuck a girl after school in the backseat of her car. I know what to do and I'll be sure to remember safe-sex, Teach." Pulling a condom out of my pocket, I leaned closer and held it between my index and middle finger.

Elbows on the table and eyes locked with my teacher, I flashed that smug smirk, reading the look on his face. Same system everyday, "Ya know after you give me detention for foul language which it says in the handbook that you can't do for more than an hour."

"Get out of my class, Remmer."

Standing and slipping my book in my bag, I saluted the teacher that had rolled his eyes already back up at the board. "Already at it, Anderson. Glad we understand each other." And exiting the class with a wink, I headed to the place I always went when I was kicked out, a short walk from the school in the opposite direction of my house: Inked.

• • •

"Remmer."

"Oh, what's up, Skid?" I'd greeted the big man at the desk in front, everyone here had referred to each other by their last names. I never really knew his first name, never really cared either. Skidmore wasn't really important just there to turn away any risky cliental. After the near bust a few years back where a snitch had almost gotten the shop shut down, they started to move the production down to the basement and in the back rooms only the smell of recently-legalized marijuana would be recognized up front. "You seen my cousin around here?"

Logan Whitney, paying off debt by working in this busted shop and not living up to his full potential. He had a degree in 2-D Design and wasted it away in this place, no wonder he was anxious to get out always expressing his disdain whenever I'd come to visit -which was fairly frequent.

"Yeah I saw him, he was in the back sketching out a remodel for the place, boss wanted to make it more friendly." Friendly as it could be with the quality drug dealers in town working here. Oliver wasn't involved in that kind of stuff, chose to stay out of it while I joined in, I wasn't really in it for the money considering I was more of a costumer than a dealer but he didn't have to know any of that and neither did Logan.

"Whitney! The kid's here for ya!"

I'd often lied and said it was a free period and Logan, being bad at time management, never caught me in that lie. Ever since Oliver had graduated and moved out to his apartment with his girlfriend -fiancée, I guess, still made me sick- I didn't really have anyone looking out for me... anyone besides Logan and my mom and neither were there with me 24/7.

Hopping up on the desk, I sat right beside some of new flyers for the place, it wasn't looking too bad now with the new stations and such, couldn't wait until I got my first tattoo here.

Logan, however, wouldn't do it without mom's permission and I knew she hated Oliver's ink... especially the ripping flesh and gears tattooed on his back, that was one funny family reunion. I wanted something simple, maybe a line from a song or mom's initials, that woman had done every fucking thing for me. From hospital bills to insulin funds, she was always there for me, always providing, scraping up coins to get the little things I wanted but didn't really need like the nicest clothes from the Salvation Army or books.

Despite how annoying she got, my mother was a wonderful woman and I appreciated every single thing she sacrificed for me and my brother, I really did.

"Yo, off the furniture!" Logan's voice had rang through the place and I smiled, turning around to catch eyes with my cousin. I was average height, around five ten but Logan was a skyscraper. He was about six foot five with shaggy black hair, lanky, with tattoos lining his entire body and if he wasn't my cousin, I'd be intimidated.

But I knew he wasn't a threat so I simply spun myself on the counter and put my feet in the seat Skidmore had previously inhabited before smirking. Eyebrow raised, I caught Logan's small smile he was trying to hide before he rolled his eyes and beckoned for me to stop being a defiant little shit before motioning towards the back.

Agreeing, my feet made contact with the linoleum floors and I followed, eyes trained on the back of his work shirt, a pair of tits with a bouquet of dead roses covering the nipples and the words 'Inked' written across the woman's abdomen. I was sure I knew who exactly came up with the design, Creeper Carlson, the one who'd been caught taking pics of the half-naked clients before he was fired and almost sued on grounds of sexual harassment.

I wouldn't blame the guy, I mean, some hot chicks did stroll into this place but he went about it all wrong, he'd sold the pics to gain a few bucks. We were all pretty broke here, some more well off than others but everyone was financially struggling if they had a job here.

Walking past Oliver's favorite tattoo artist, I sent a wink her way, Bobby was hot, she was. Her hair was at her shoulders, a jet black and I knew she'd be a fucking vixen in bed, but I also knew she was a close friend of Oliver's and wouldn't dare to fuck around with his brother so I kept my thoughts to myself.

Didn't stop me from a quick glance at her ass as we walked past, Logan talking about who knows what. It wasn't until we made it to the very back of the shop that he stopped walking, opening the door and allowing me to walk in and I settled myself on the bed in the corner of the room.

It smelled like sex and trust me, I knew what sex smelled like. Wrinkling my nose, I looked over at the table in the middle of the room, a mahogany, tags scratched into the surface and a pair of boxers flung over it, carelessly.

The drugs were hidden but I knew they were there from the frown on Logan's face and one look in his eyes, I could tell he didn't expect me to know anything. I wasn't supposed to know about the stash of loud hidden in the box spring or the bricks of cocaine shoved into the closet.

He didn't know I was one of the people who came here to get high when he was off his shift.

"How's school?" He'd asked as if it were normal and I rolled my eyes at that, he sounded just like Oliver.

Shrugging, I leaned my head on the wall the bed was pushed against, pushing myself back onto it and resting my elbows on my knees. I could see the little baggies on the dresser and I planned to snag one on my way out without him noticing. They rarely counted those and I was always thankful that Logan pulled me in here to get away from his commotion that was work.

He was stressed, about what? I didn't really know.

"Eli." His eyes were on mine and I furrowed my brows, bored look on my face, it was then that his eyes darted around the room quickly and rested where mine once were, he was staring at that same plastic baggie hat I was and my heart stopped.

He fucking knew.

"Lopez was looking for you." Lopez didn't scare me, he had no power in the system, just another messenger like Skidmore. He was there to scare me and I wasn't scared yet. "I didn't know you were fucking selling for them."

He thought I was selling, easy enough, he could think that. I let out a breath, knowing that selling was something he wouldn't chew me out for without sounding like a hypocrite, knowing that he'd done risky things for money as well. He didn't know I was using again, he didn't know that Oliver had stopped fighting my battles for me.

"I need the cash." And I mean, I did, I definitely did considering how much I owed them. I was selfish and I didn't care, my mom was struggling with money and I helped out the best I could but Oliver did all the heavy lifting. Mom's favorite, popping by every Saturday with groceries that he could afford.

Dude was a fucking model, could you believe it?

Growing annoyed at the thought of my better-than-me brother, I dug in my pocket fishing out my phone and pack of Marlboro. Taking one out the pack, I rolled my eyes at Logan's unimpressed look and reached over to grab a spare lighter off the dresser. Flicking my finger over the roll, I watched the flame light before passing it over the end of the cigarette. My eyes lingered on the tip of it, pushing the opposite end in my mouth and sucking in.

Everyone knew I smoked, Oliver did too, ya know, before he decided that he was too good for it. He quit, just like that, as if it was nothing when she was by his side and that was some annoying shit. Dragging in some stress relieving, I looked up at Logan, raising an eyebrow when he went to speak but never did.

He simply shook his head in disappointment and I almost laughed, they were all pretty disappointed with me, it wasn't anything new. We stayed like that for a while, my finger flicking the lighter to spark a flame before thinking over how it would feel to just light the stash on the fire.

I'd be in debt, insane debt if they caught me, but what if they didn't?

"That's dangerous stuff, Elliot."

And I smirked, acting as if I didn't know what he was talking about. Didn't matter either way, I was gonna die regardless and getting involved with the business was my problem, not his. Raising my brows, I spoke about the cigarette nestled between my index and middle finger and I watched the ashes fall to the sheets, burning them a bit before fizzling out. "It's just a bit of nicotine-"

Cutting me off with a roll of his eyes, he spoke, "not that, selling for them." And he stood abruptly, yanking the stick from my hand before putting it out on the coffee table. "Stop playing with death before they actually kill you."

He didn't know how close I really was to dying, no one really knew and that made me laugh bitterly.

"That was seventy cents that you owe me." I retorted, watching his face grow more annoyed as I glared. Things didn't come cheap for people like me and that fucking cigarette alone costed more than the change in my pocket.

I was gonna die anyway, it didn't matter.

Rolling his eyes at the way I didn't seem bothered, Logan dug in his pocket, still standing before tossing a crumpled bill at my face. Thanking him sarcastically, I watched as he gave up. "You're really gonna die? Gonna push Aunt Clara back into her depression just because you can't get a grip on your own fucking life?" His voice was filled with a coldness that I didn't expect, my eyes moving to gage his reaction.

Of course I didn't wanna fuck up my mom's heart any more than it already was, of course I didn't wanna leave her. I couldn't show that so my face stayed blank and I sat stoic, avoiding flinching back when Logan's rage set in on me. I hadn't intended on moving but my fingers had twitched of their own accord, picking at a hole in my brother's old Iron Maiden t-shirt.

"You're gonna fucking die, that easy, Eli?" He asked rhetorically before it seemed as if he had given up on me, chuckling humorlessly, he ran a hand through his hair and backed away. Closer to the door he went and my eyes trained on the dresser again. "Pay off your debt, no body else is doing it for you, that's on your own head but don't bring this shit around family and for the love of God, don't let the woman get a call that her son was killed in a mysterious shooting."

I wasn't sure when he'd developed an urge to actually be bothered with my problems more than he already was but it was undesirable in the least. Deciding not to speak for consequences of dragging this on longer than need be, my hand curled around the lighter in my pocket. Logan had seemed to notice my unwillingness to participate in conversation and sighed before glaring.

And then he was gone and I was pushing another stress reliever around into thin lines with a business card I found lying around. I'd been overthinking again, my heart wouldn't stop weighing heavy in my chest and I thought of my mother, thought of how she reacted when Oliver was put into juvie, thought about how different it would be if I were dead... If I couldn't come back home and make amends and fix my situation and hers and create a better life for us.

I didn't want to be Oliver, I wanted Oliver to stop being Oliver, I wanted to not have all this pressure, all this feeling so I lined the contents of the baggie as much as I could manage with shaking hands and I leaned over the dresser, remembering how my last high had felt.

Once it was in my system, words lost meaning and I found myself laying back on that bed and a dopey smile spreading across my face at the euphoric rush racing through my body.

Nothing fucking mattered, I didn't fucking matter in that moment, and that felt great.

A/N:
So, this is the first chapter, I'm unsure of whether or not I wanna rewrite it buuuuut it's a work in progress. This book is still coming in 2017, but I wanted feedback.

Updated: Thursday, Dec 1.

What do you/ did you expect Elliot to be like? Why do you think he's like this?