The scars you can't see are the hardest to heal. Astrid Alauda. This is a story honoring my family, friends and those people who lived and died with me on the streets of Los Angeles in the early nineteen seventies and eighties. It is about the dangerous times and experiences that we shared, while growing up in an overflowing environment filled with abuse, drugs, and violence that lead to overdoses, suicide and murder. Most of my friends died of unnatural deaths. A lot of years have passed and masses of healing have taken place, but the scars are still present. Every word you are about to read is indisputably true, with the exception that names have been changed to protect the identity of the innocent, as well as the guilty. For every one of my friends and family who lived it and for all of those who have died, this is your story.