The car stopped, when they had been driving for about thirty minutes. Blake took off his leather jacket and looked at her, but he still kept silent.

Aliyah looked around. This wasn't a fancy rich neighborhood; this was the poorer suburb area of Chicago. Trash was piled around the corners. People were walking around in weird clothes and she even saw a stray cat walking across the road. She looked at him and saw something she had never seen before. That leatherjacket was worn down. Maybe he had worn it for years or it was his dads, but it wasn't brand new. His shirts were also worn-down and those "Nike" shoes, were rip-off. The logo was poorly painted on with a black sharpie.

"Where are we?" Aliyah asked.

"My house."

"You live here?" She couldn't believe it, even though he said they were going to his house. He nodded, but didn't speak. He got out of the car, with the stolen box of ibuprofen and walked into a front yard that looked like it had been growing with weeds for years. It almost looked abandoned. The windows were dark, no lights inside the house. There weren't any movements behind the glass either. If she would ever find herself in this neighborhood, she would feel uneasy, maybe even scared.

Hesitantly Aliyah got out of the car and walked over to him.

"I told you I could explain," he said, looking up at the front of the house. Then he walked through the door and stepped over the doorstep. She followed him into the dark living room, where a woman was lying on a bed, where the couch was supposed to be. "Hey mom," Blake whispered. He kissed her pale cheeks and showed her the ibuprofen.

The woman smiled and ran her hand through his hair. "Thank you, sweetheart." Then her eye caught a glimpse of Aliyah who still stood in the doorway. "Who did you bring with you?"

"Aliyah, a friend," Blake said.

Aliyah shuffled towards the bed and shook the cold hand of Blakes mom.

"Hey Aliyah, I'm Cathy. I'm sorry that you need to see me this way."

Aliyah smiled awkwardly and whispered: "I'm sorry you're sick."