You met Price at a bar, you two talked for a while and somehow he ended up basically adopting you. You were only nineteen and he was in his late thirties. He scolded you for drinking underage but you never listened. During a late night rant you admitted you had bad addictions. You had older friends who would buy you different substances that definitely weren't legal. You were homeless, you didn't even have a job, you spent most of your time going to clubs or hanging out with your friends which again, were terrible influences on you. You stole almost everything you owned and you clearly didn't have anything set for your future. Price told you that there was always an open space at his apartment and he was willing to help you in any way no matter how hard life got.

You randomly showed up at his door, scared, clearly either drunk or high judging by your blown pupils and slurred speech but he didn't mention it. He brought you in. You were clearly having a panic attack, or all of the drugs had finally been catching up to you. He was disappointed and mad but more scared for you. You were only nineteen. He held you close to his chest, trying to hold you through it, your sobs and ragged breath filled the room.