Jacob... I never liked the name. It's too formal, especially for a red. Anyone that has lived, knows what red and white roses are. The roses were made by the creator to separate us. Reds are low class, whites are high class. In short, us reds do all the jobs while the whites sit pretty. I hate the system... It's not fair. White roses are only high class because they are stronger, smarter, and better-looking. (But to be honest, even though I'm a red rose, I'm pretty hot compared to white roses) If a red and white rose touch, they die, and that's why red and white roses are so separated. There are only red and white rose families, no mix. It's absurd.

Some times I wish I was born as a white rose but they are all so obnoxious and rude. I don't understand how anyone deals with them. It's stupid. Being born as a red rose means money is tight... I've done some things I wish I didn't do, but if you live on the streets, it becomes second nature. if only I had some extra money for my dad's hospital bills, I would've stayed away from drugs, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

Anyways, here I am sitting in my room. bored out of my mind. 
"Jacob!" my older brother, Danny, calls up the stairs, sounding a little loopy.
"What? I'm busy, and don't call me Jacob, Daniel." of course I wasn't busy but I really wanted to piss him off, have a little fun for once, you know? Danny hates being called Daniel just as much as I hate being called Jacob so we'll bug each other every so often. I hear him yell up, "Urgh!!! Just come down, I know you're not busy."
"Fine..." I grunt at him. I never get a minute to myself...
"Hurry!" He says in an unusual, sloppy sounding voice.
"I'm coming!!!" I yell, annoyed by him, as I run down the small stairs.

Our house is small. One big room with a kitchen, table (with only 3 chairs), and a small couch facing an old, broken tv. The floors are dirty and the pint on the walls is chipping off but it's home, and we can't really afford anything else. The upstairs isn't much better. Three small rooms that fit a bed each. We have a closet for all our stuff in the hall, but it doesn't all fit so we mostly just throw our clothes on the little floor space we have beside our beds. The stairs are weak, spiral metal rods melded together (weakly). They aren't that reliable but they do the job.

As I get to the bottom of the stairs, I take one look at him. He's high. His so-called friends must've dropped him off. Yes, I deal drugs, but I don't use them, even though my brother does. Even though Danny is my older brother, we both take turns using that role. Right now, I'm the older brother. 

I guide Danny upstairs and rest him on his bed. I grad a glass of water from the kitchen and put it near his bed. I all of a sudden am going down the stairs, unable to feel what I'm doing. I grab my leather jacket and bolt out the house, I don't wanna ever see this place again.