I dunno what's wrong with me and what possessed me to start writing a new story, but this idea has been bugging me for weeks and I just had to get down. I am also not aware of what possessed me to write something like this. I think I got bored with all the good girl Mitchie fics, and this is just a new challenge. I'll update IIWIN at some point, but for now, I'd appreciate feedback on this, because I'm very unsure about it since it's so different from everything else I've written. It's gonna be rated M for just about everything under the sun, so be warned. Not all chapters are gonna be this dark, I promise, but they're necessary.

Disclaimer: I do not own Camp Rock, just the random characters I create that will pop up in the story.

Prologue

There is nothing worse than being this dump of an apartment, Mitchie Torres thought bitterly as she climbed through the fire escape that led into her shitty excuse of a bedroom. She hardly spent anytime in there. Most of the time she was sneaking out of it. All that decorated it was a bed and a few random pieces of clothing that she had either borrowed or stolen. Mainly stolen. She didn't have too many friends to borrow from. The people she associated with couldn't even be given the title of acquaintances. Just random people who could get her a quick release whenever she needed one. Of course, it seemed like she was always needing one of those.

It was nearing two in the morning and she was tired as shit. As soon as she shut her window after climbing in, she collapsed on her bed, trying desperately to ignore where she was. The place that she was supposed to call home. She always tried, but it never worked. The place reeked of drugs and stale alcohol. If you weren't used to it, it would more than likely make you nauseous. But Mitchie was used to it. Spent most of her life trying to get used to it, or at least get to a point that she could just block it out. It got a little easier to stand when she started using the drugs herself, and she was familiar with it. But her mom always got pissed when Mitchie tried to steal some of the drugs that she brought home. Mitchie had once found a packet of cocaine in her moms room. She had been ready to shove it in her pocket and sneak out so she could do it without worrying if her mom was gonna bust her with it. But before she could smuggle it into the pocket of her worn jeans, the door flew open with her mom on the other side, absolutely fuming. And totally high. She had started yelling and screaming, but she was so high that she was completely incoherent. But Mitchie didn't need ears to feel the pain of the slap her mom hit her with across the face.

It had been the first time her mom had ever hit her, Mitchie recalled. And the last. Mitchie had been fourteen at the time, but she wasn't just gonna stand around and get the shit slapped out of her by her own mother. So Mitchie had slapped back. Harder. It had been easy to overpower her. Mitchie had been clean and sober at the time, and her mom was about as high off her ass as she could get. After that, Mitchie had ran from the apartment, down the fire escape as usual. She always ran. But she always came back. As tough as she was, she wasn't stupid enough to camp out on the street in the middle of the night in the wrong side of Baltimore. But she always stayed away for as long as she could.

And that night was the night she had met Brian James. The first of many steps in the process of nearly getting herself killed for good.

She was seventeen years old now, and her life wasn't any better than it had been three years ago. It just seemed like the older she got, the worse and more complicated her life got.

It had become a regular thing for her to go out and get stoned or high or basically whatever the hell she wanted. She had pretty good connections now thanks to Brian.

Mitchie had been lying in bed now for a good hour, trying to force herself out of this world and into sleep, even if it were just for a few hours. It was an escape. And she'd take all of those she could get. Then she heard the door slam open. She didn't think to much of it, figuring it was just her mom, pathetically drunk after another one of her binges. The hysterical laughter proved it. But then she heard something else that made the muscles in Mitchie's stomach tighten. Another voice. A male voice. Mitchie never liked it when her mom brought guys home. Because they were either drunk or stoned as well. She never knew what they would do if they got bored with her mom and wandered around the apartment looking for another form of entertainment. Mitchie's breath caught in fear just at the thought.

"Shit," She said and realized she couldn't stay.

She immediately staggered off her bed, trying to find her shoes and shoving them one when she did. It only took her seconds to shove her window open and climb down the fire escape to get to the alley behind the apartment building.

But now she was pissed because she wasn't going to be getting any sleep. She sure as hell wasn't going to crash in the back of any alley. All the gangs were out at this time, and if you ran into the wrong one at the wrong time, you were screwed. Mitchie knew this almost better than anyone. Even if she had connections with Brian and his gang, it still scared the shit out of her to be out this late at night in the part of town she was in. She may have been cool with Brian's gang, but she sure as hell wasn't with the rival gangs who were always looking to start some sort of turf war. It was the worst thing in the world getting caught in the middle of one of those.

"Yo, Torres," She froze for a moment before the raspy voice finally registered in her brain. Sje sighed in relief and turned and saw Brian walking towards her. She knew his gang wouldn't be far behind him. They hardly ever split up during this hour.

He looked the same as he always did. His blond, greasy hair hung down his forehead and over his dark green eyes. He looked a few years older than his age of twenty-two, but that had never really bugged Mitchie before. He had more connections than anyone in Baltimore, and she considered herself lucky just to be on his good side.

"Brian," She acknowledged and took notice of the purple bandanna that was wrapped around his head. All the gangs had different colors so everyone knew who belonged to who. Mitchie always though that was stupid. Putting it out there just got you shot by a rival gang member.

"What are you doin' out her, huh? Told you it was stupid to be out here during war time." Mitchie never knew why he watched out for her. He had no reason to. A part of her actually thought that maybe he really cared about her. But she knew that was the stupidest thing she could come up with. These guys didn't care about anything but themselves. They lived to survive. It was all a game of survival. They had no other choice.

"Got fucking tired of my place." She used as an explanation.

Brian just scoffed. "Shit, Torres. It can't be half as bad as it is out here."

"I can take care of myself, Brian."

He scoffed again. "Oh yeah? And what if Tony's gang showed up? You're tough, but you ain't no match for nine guys with guns."

He had a point. Tony had one of the toughest gangs in Baltimore. You mess with him or his crew, and you were dead. Point blank, no mercy.

Mitchie shook her head. She knew he was right, but it's not like she had any other choice. She sure as hell wasn't going back to that damn apartment.

"Whatever, Brian. I can't worry about that right now."

"Come on, Torres. I can't be worrying about my girl getting shot down by some lame ass trying to steal our turf."

Brian seemed to have this notion that Mitchie was his girl. Yes, they had a thing. But it wasn't serious. When you were stoned, you would have a thing with just about anybody. But Brian had this weird attachment thing to Mitchie now, and she didn't know what to make of it. But she wasn't about to get on his bad side. If Tony had the toughest gang in Baltimore, Brian had the second. She had to stay on their good sides no matter what.

"I'll be fine, Brian."

Before he could say anything, the rest of his gang stepped into the alley. Mitchie was always intimidated by the full gang. There were so many of them, and most of them had guns or knives. Some of them had both. They wouldn't hurt her, since she and Brian were sort of a thing, and that went against their rules, but still. Anyone would be intimidated.

"I ain't gonna tell you what to do, Torres. Just watch yourself." Brian said before grabbing her chin and forcing their lips together. He tasted of drugs and alcohol. But she didn't mind. She had gotten used to it. Figured it was normal.

He pulled away and gave her a look that she couldn't quite decipher before turning his back and heading towards his crew.

That was when she heard the squeal of tires. In this side of town, that was never a good sign. She whipped her head towards the street, where Brian's back was turned to, and felt her heart slam into the throat at the sight of the black SUV, with the windows rolled down and guns sticking out of them, aiming right for them. All of them. There was no hesitation when the shots went off. Coming from all the guns at once.

She felt the unbearable pain seeping through her, the shock and fear pounding into her system harder and faster than the bullets. Everything was going in slow motion. She could hear the guns over everything else. Could hear Brian's crew screaming and shouting out orders in the background. Soon they were taking their guns out and shooting back.

But Mitchie had already fallen onto the cold concrete. Feeling the pain and desperate need for death to take her and just be done with it already. She knew it was coming. It was inevitable. She could feel it taking her, dragging her under until she felt nothing at all.

At first she didn't feel anything. When she opened her eyes all she could see was a blurry image of white so bright it hurt her eyes. Was she dead? Did it finally happen? But then the pain came, almost as excruciating as before, except now it was more controlled. She feel the pain in her chest and side when she breathed. Lung. She had definitely gotten capped in her lung, or else it wouldn't have been so damn hard to take in a breath. Her shoulder ached and she knew she was shot there too. Everything ached. It took an extreme amount of effort to even blink. Why couldn't she have just died? Why are they continuing to put her through all this pain and suffering. Making her suffer through this life that she so desperately wanted out of.

She glanced down at her wrists, wincing when that one little move made her whole body ache. She could still see the marred skin, where she had once put a razor blade to it over and over again. That was when Dylan and Cam were still around. She had been at it for months before Dylan finally caught her and threw out all her razors, though he knew it was a useless action seeing as she would always find more. But she had promised him, and Cam, that she would stop. That it would be wrong to end her own life. To ruin her own potential. Though that was a stupid excuse. What potential did she have?

But she couldn't focus on that. Her heart was aching at thinking of Dylan and Cam. Her brothers. One escaped as soon as he turned eighteen and the other one was dead. She forced herself not to think of her late baby brother, but it was impossible. She missed him like she would miss her own arm. Dylan had a hard time dealing with it. That was another reason why he left, she was sure. He was so much older than her. He'd be nearly twenty-six by now. Cam would have been fifteen.

Her heart ached considerably.

Then the door opened and Mitchie felt her aching heart slam into her throat again.

What was going to happen to her now? There was no way her mom was gonna take her in now. She had sworn that one more screw up from Mitchie, and she would never take her in again. Fucking hypocrite.

The doctor that walked in was a lady, late thirties at least, Mitchie could tell. Had a nice, friendly smile. But Mitchie was scared shitless.

"Michaela," Mitchie winced at the use of her full name. "My name is Denise Gray. I'm a doctor from New Jersey on assignment here for a few days. I heard about you, and am willing to give you another option."

Mitchie stared at her for a minute, like she was crazy. She had to have been fucking mental.

"Huh?" Was all she could get out.

"You can either go back and stay with your mother," Mitchie shuddered at the idea. "Though your mother has made it known that she isn't all excited about that plan." Figures. "So it's either that, get thrown into the system and maybe find a foster family for you until you turn eighteen, which if I'm not mistaken, won't be for nearly another year." Well, yeah. Mitchie had just turned seventeen last month. Not that anyone had cared. "And your final option...you can come stay with me and my family in New Jersey."

Mitchie had thought the lady was fucking insane. Who the hell took in a seventeen year old from the bad streets of downtown Baltimore with countless drugs, alcohol, and three bullet wounds in them?

Nothing could be worse than that apartment though, Mitchie thought. And that was when she made up her mind to go to New Jersey with a complete stranger.

She was out of her fucking mind.

Well, that would be the prologue. I'd love it if you told me what you thought and if it's worth my time to keep on writing this. I wrote this at like, three in the morning, so forgive me for any errors or anything like that. I was too tired to go back and proofread.

So, thanks for reading, and please take the time to write down what you thought, it doesn't have to be much, but I really need to know. :)