Mad

We all sat in a circle in this small empty room, the only furniture a corpse and a hastily made crack pipe fashioned from a coke can. I wish I had never ran away, and it was all because I wanted to stay out all night and get into trouble at sixteen years old. All my parents ever wanted to do was protect me, and I ran away from the only sense of unconditional love I'd ever known. I felt like such a failure, and I guess I was. Three years ago today in my caught in the moment rage, I joined a reputable gang in my town. We smoked, drank, did drugs, and stole things for fun. We would do just about anything for an adrenaline rush, and we kept that in mind the day the cops found us out. We ran and ran until we were ahead of them but we came to a dead end soon enough. Our only getaway seemed to be a manhole, so we opened the lid and shimmied into a world of nasty sewage. As I sat I noticed a dead rat beside me that had the most horrifying smell. We heard the cops yell, "They ran...they're gone!" along with a varitey of obscenities. After that it seemed we couldn't roam the streets anymore because the whole community was searching for us. The sewer was our only safe haven, and none of us were especially happy about that.
"I've never been so pissed..." One of the more heavy built gang members ranted in a fit of uncontrolable rage.
"I'm mad, you're mad...we're all mad here," I shot back in defeat.