~This is part two, Javi's story~ I saw things, things no child should ever have to see. I saw my mom shoot up, I saw her almost overdose multiple times. I saw her fucking men, I was forced to watch her get raped more than once. I saw drug deals, I saw people get stabbed, get shot. It was south central Los Angeles, in the late 90’s and shit was just always crazy. The woman who gave birth to me, Lydia, had left Mexico when she was 17 for a better life. She came with a pimp, who promised her the world and then left her as soon as she got pregnant from a john. Lydia should have never have gotten pregnant, and even after that, she could have put me up for adoption, but she was selfish. 

Things were pretty good for the next eight months or so, I lost a couple fights, but I won about a dozen. The problem you have when things are going well, is that someone is going to want what you got. Drug dealers for example ... their problem is they get a little cash and want everyone to know it. I did everything possible to hide it. I didn’t want anyone to know what I had. I had nearly $11,500 saved now. I didn’t spend my money on anything. Guys from the boxing club invited me out to eat all the time, let me go home with them to crash sometimes. I was making them a fortune. If they were willing to pay, I always let them.I started thinking about the best way to keep the cash, especially if I was going to travel. I couldn’t risk travelling with that much just on me. 

As it turned out, Candy was pretty much the nicest person I could have ever encountered. She had been abused by her step-father and ran away to escape it. We ended up having a lot in common and I did my best to help her around the house. I wasn’t much of a cook, but she showed me a couple of basics. After a few days, she asked if I wanted to stay longer. “I didn’t have any ID or working papers when I started at the diner. The owner, Cal, he’s real nice, doesn’t ask a lot of questions as long as you show up on time and do your job. Want me to ask if he’d hire you to wash dishes and bus tables? We actually had someone quit last week.” I thought on that. I wasn’t the washing dishes type and I wasn’t sure how well I would do having a “boss&rdq

Gary really came through, he got me into a small fixer upper studio apartment, it wasn’t much but it was furnished and it was all mine. I just had to agree to keep it quiet and not draw attention. I don’t know what they normally charged for rent, but I didn’t care, $1,500 bucks bought me three months with electric and water included. I still kept most of my money in the bus locker, I didn’t trust leaving it in my apartment. I got myself a library card and took out all kinds of books. I got to know the ladies there and they were all in love with me. I took out everything from math and science books to cookbooks and just soaked up as much as I could.Over the next couple of months I was a regular at the fights and I started working

Tilly got me some clothes to wear home, and she picked me up in a fucking Mercedes SUV. Yeah, I should have known she was loaded. Turns out, she wasn’t just an ER doctor, she was a director, and only 33 years old. “I got you a few outfits just trying to guess your size … oh, and some toiletries. I want to give you a couple more days to take it easy, then I’ll take you shopping,” she said, pulling into a long driveway. Holy … shit. These guys were seriously loaded. I’d only ever seen houses like this on TV, but never in real life. What the hell did I do right in life to deserve this?"You’ll meet Scott tonight, he is pretty much at work about 14-16 hours