"Fuck you! Stupid bullshit!" 

The boy cursed under his breath while whipping away the burning tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. 

His stomach once again painfully twisted up from all the pent-up frustration and anger, making him quickly get to his feet and rush to the bathroom. 

Just a second after he had lifted the toilet seat, his meager breakfast made its way up his throat and down into the water. 

After emptying his stomach he sank to his knees and let his throbbing forehead rest on the cold porcelain. 

Ever since his parents decided to split up a few months ago, everything had just gone down the drain just like the contents of his stomach.

It had been quite a shock for him when they told him that they were breaking up. 

Sure they never had seemed like the loving, caring couples you would see on TV, but they also didn't really seem to hate each other or something like that.

That's why it was still hard for him to figure out the reasoning behind it.

As far as he remembered, they never really had fought with each other or even argued that much. 

If they had done anything like that, he could have at least understood why they didn't want to stay together but without a reason, it just seemed stupid to him. 

What he found even more stupid was that he and his mom had to move out of the beautiful, big house into this disgusting, tiny apartment.

If it had been his decision, he definitely would have stayed with his father. After all, they got along way better or at least they used to.

But no, they never even considered asking for his opinion on the matter and instead just decided everything by themselves behind his back. Almost as if this whole thing had nothing to do with him.

The boy slowly got back to his feet and rinsed out his mouth with some water. 

Then he looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror above the sink. 

"Fuck man, you look like shit." He jokingly said to himself. 

_____

Ed could almost hear the echo of a beer bottle crashing onto the wall behind him. He'd learned the hard way how to duck quickly and even though he hated it, it did save his life at least a few times.

Even though the old monster had drunken himself to death nearly 15 years ago, he still sometimes managed to invade his mind and haunt him with pictures of the past. 

Thinking about his father always made Ed feel sick to his stomach. 

He still remembered the day of the funeral vividly. 

It had been a cold and rainy day. 

Thinking back, Ed was actually glad that it had rained the entire time because if it hadn't, everyone would have surely noticed that Ed didn't shed even a single tear over his father's death. 

It didn't mean that he had been happy about it, either. Instead, he just didn't seem to feel anything. 

Not when all those people, whose names he didn't even care to remember, said their condolences or when they lowered the coffin into that dark hole. 

Not even when he took a handful of dirt and threw it onto the remains of the man he used to call father did he feel anything. 

At least his mother had cried but that wasn't really a surprise to him. 

She always cried a lot. Sometimes she did it to get attention or to make people do what she wanted. But, more often than not, it was because her oh-so-loving husband had either beaten  her up again, cheated or spent all their money on gambling and alcohol. 

Ed still didn't understand why she had stayed with him till his death or why she always insisted that her husband was a good man. 

She even used to lie to people for him, telling everyone that asked about her bruises that she just was a clumsy person. 

He shook his head, not wanting to remember any of those old memories. 

Ed had already spent enough time getting over his anger toward his parents and he didn't want to spend even one more moment reminiscing over 'the good old days'.

"I need a beer." He mumbled to himself and went into his apartment again, leaving the still quietly sobbing boy on his own. 

With a groan, Ed crouched down in front of the fridge but when he looked inside, he sighed in frustration. 

There was no beer or anything really for that matter. 

All that was left inside was some old ketchup bottle, a few glasses filled with olives, pickled cucumbers and other things he didn't even remember when he had bought them. 

The distinct lack of anything that could be considered a meal made Ed realize that he hadn't gotten any groceries in a while. 

With another groan and the cracking of his knees, he stood up again and went over to his wallet laying on the kitchen table.

Twenty-five euros and a little bit of change were all he had left in it.

He usually knew better than to use his last bit of money on alcohol instead of buying something to eat but, at that moment,all he wanted was a goddamn drink, even if that meant having nothing else to eat for the next ten days besides instant noodles. 

Ed stuffed his wallet into the backpocket of his jeans with an annoyed grunt, and then pulled on his old, worn out biker boots.

He took his keys, locked the door behind him and went to the elevators.

As usual, only one of the two wasn't out of order. The blond pressed the button a few times and soon after, the doors opened with a squeaking sound. 

Ed took one last breath before stepping into the tiny metal box that had graffiti all over its walls and also for some reason always smelled like a horrible combination of vomit, piss and something he didn't even want to know what it was.

He held his breath, as he always did, and started to count down when the doors began to close. 

But then, he heard an oddly familiar voice yelling for him to wait.

For a moment he hesitated but then decided against his better judgment to press the button that opened the doors again.