Not.

A Smirk, never a smile. Thats all she ever got. A smirk like, "Yeah, i know. Your so predictable." It drove her insane, and that probably helps explain it. Or maybe not? It all depends on how You see it- If you choose to open your eyes.

You could just sew them shut like the rest of the world, you know.

Her name was- is? was Sophia. Sophia Note. She called herself Sophia NOT- because thats all she ever heard from her parents. Sophia, Not the knives. Sophia not the stove, Sophia not the bed.. Maybe that helps explain it? Probably not, You and your sewn closed eyes. Did it hurt?

Sophia never really thought her body had anything wrong with it. Granted she had eleven toes, But she felt like it was her lucky toe that got her here. not all luck is good, right? She had Tiny breasts- she didn't have to wear a bra! Ever! Ha! Her fingers were long and skinny, and she danced them in the air when no one was looking- They got to dance like she never got to. Her lags were gangly and long, her knees knobby, and she had very tiny feet. Tiny feet, tiny steps, silent Sophia. No one ever heard her coming! She was like a ghost. A happy ghost. Who wasn't all the happy and quite alive. Most ghosts aren't happy. They play with her stringy red hair, and they were a little paler then Sophia. They were beautiful with their hollowed eyed and crooked jaws. But you can't see them through those stitches in your eyelids, can you? What made you do it? Mommy, Daddy maybe?

No one could ever understand what she said, except Murry. Murry had ripped open his stitched close eyes. She could see the string still hanging from his lids. When he blinked he seemed in pain, but by all that was good he could see like Sophia. She had made sure of it. If he could hear her, he had to see like her. She loved murry like a brother, a husband, and an uncle at the same time. She was protected by him, She loved him, and she was occasionally violated by him. Thats how that goes, Right? Why ask you? You don't know, you don't know anything. Who are you even? Go away you blind fool.

Sophia hated the walls of the place. She hated how she could hear the skittering bugs at night when no one was screaming. Or crying. Or talking. People talk too much. Not Sophia. Well, only to Murry. Murry said she talked to much. He said to only talk to him when no one was looking, and to be extra quiet in there closet time. Closet time wasn't fun, but it made Murry so happy. A bit messy though. But that was all normal, murry said. Murry would never lie. Murry didn't lie when he said the pills stitched peoples eyes shut, did he? No! She watched many other residents get changed that way. Some had such great sight and now they are all blind. Murry is so kind and caring for taking her pills. Evil Pills, Nasty pills. That stupid doctor wanted her to take them- Never trust Doctors. But you know nothing of trust, do you? After your eyes were closed you lost all trust. Its true.

That Doctor was vile. Always trying to get sophias secrets. She was the worst. Her eyes had a good ten stitches. Once sophia saw one pop, and the doctor took out a needle right in front of her. She plucked on of her tightly pulled hairs,and sewed them right up. She then asked the questions. They were like a sedative, sometimes. There was something in the air, there had to be. Sophias word came out like vomit sometimes. She told about Daddy, And Mommy. What Mommy Did to Daddy, And Daddy did to Mommy, And what Sophia had to do to both oh them.

Sophia felt so tired, like dead tired, except her pesky heart was still beating. This is what happened when she talked to that pesky doctor.

Random bullshit.

Her smile felt like it went for miles, a never ending beacon to the world that she was on top of them, beaming down. Her eyes gleamed and she gave a genuine laugh, the people around her cracking mixed jokes, and having side conversations. Reaching out, she tried to grab, touch, have, anyone, but it hit her like a train, a sick realization- she wasn't with these people, She wasn't with anyone. the people blurred around her as her sparkling eyes filled with tears, but she quickly blinked them away. They weren't worth this. She didn't need a hand to hold, and she sure as hell didn't need someone to joke with her, or whisper stupid nothings in her ear. Her eyes went blank, and her smile went limp, her posture got stiff, and stand offish. Her breathing became heavy, and she turned away from this group, and in a rush they seemed to turn to dust and disappear.


She woke up in a cold sweat, and curled into a small ball, gripping her head. a steady stream of tears poured down her face, her body quivering in pure distress. she thought, in a delirious moment, that he would be there, and she turned, and saw no one- Then she remembered, he was over a thousand miles away.

The Block Isn't Involved #1

Her knuckles were white hot, her cheeks scarlet red, and tears streaked down her face. She stood in between her mother and father, eyes clinched shut, teeth clamped on her lower lip. she felt liquid bubble from her innocent lips, and blood dripped as her small teeth pierced her skin. She opened her large brown eyes and looked at her father, and heard her mother sob behind her. She winced slightly, but stood her ground, showing no fear top the man that towered over her 8 year old body. Her hair rippled down her back in dark brown waves, and she felt her mother stroke it lightly. The little girl knew she was stronger then her mother in this moment- she knew she was most of the time. She had to protect her mom, and calm her dad. That was her role in life, and she knew her short life no other way.

Her large, crying, but strong eyes connected with her fathers angry stern eyes, and they stared each other down. She Challenged everything he stood for in that moment, and she was only a child. These were the moments that defined, and made the child whom she would be some day. Her mothers hand stroked her hair more, and stoked the fire in her heart, and the confidence in her eyes. The man grew angrier- how dare this mere child stand up to his authority. And in that instance the child saw his anger boil over, and her confidence fizzled, and her fear shown brighter then day in her eyes.

His hand struck her cheek in an instance, and she turned away from him, staring, blank. Her mother wailed loudly, and fell into his arms, knowing that now his anger wasn't directed at her, but at the child. She knew her child had once again self sacrificed, but did nothing. The child stopped crying, turned, and walked away. She didn't look back, but she heard her mother saying something about a horrid child, and her fathers muttered agreements.


I can't finish this.

Revisiting old works: DeVee: The Bunny

this is from a roleplay, over a few posts and all that. Also, VERY old.



DeVee had gotten out of the room, and was now coming back from the depths of Tortuga, with a large box. She held it slightly away from her as she walked onto the deck, and into the hospital room. She set it on the operating table, and it moved slightly. DeVee cracked her knuckles,” allow the experimentation to begin."

DeVee pulled on some crude gloves, and reached into the box. She pulled a white rabbit out of the box by the scruff of its neck, and set it on the table, and quickly pulled out twine, and bound its legs. she gave a laugh as it struggled, and she rose a scalpel into the air, the light gleaming off the polished metal,” For science!" she roared, loudly.

DeVee held the squirming, innocent bunny down. It looked up at her, almost as if pleading for its life, it’s large, shiny eyes yelling love and need- and DeVee plunged the scalpel into its skull, lodging it there. "awe shit!" she tugged at it, but was unsuccessful at getting it out, the poor bunny squirming, the knife hadn't killed it, but now it wished for death will all of its innocent heart, the pain to much.

DeVee turned away from the animal, and quickly found another scalpel. She smiled wickedly, and turned to the fluffy, cute, bleeding rabbit, and held it once again, and ran the scalpel slowly through the soft tissue that was its stomach, and once she removed the thin, sharp, precise blade, the blood sprang up from the neck to the hind legs, the thin cut instantly spilling the innocent blood.

DeVee smiled wider, and pulled her gloves on tighter, and she pulled on the skin on opposite sides, the cut being pulled open, to reveal it was a full on incision, the vital organs revealed, and the rabbit fell blissfully into the hands of death. DeVee plunged her hands inside, almost as if she was looking for something, as she muttered,” where is the damn thing? If its not here, my theory will be correct!"

DeVee squealed as she threw the vital organs to the ground, which was now red, and wet from the blood. DeVee herself was drenched from her crazed search, the rabbit now empty. She threw her hands into the air, and squealed louder, and ran out onto the deck, bloody, and extremely happy. She ran past the docks and into a bar, randomly saw Osiris, and yelled, "Birdie! I was right! I was right!"


Note: She was looking for its soul.

another note: this is when i was heavily medicated.

Revisiting old works: DeVee: The lost sparrow

Note: This was a very long time ago. Slightly sucks ass.

DeVee looks out over the Deck. She paced back and forth, her hands behind her back. A man stepped into her path and said," one of the traitors came back...” she stopped, turned and went below deck.

The man was being held down by three men, with there guns to his head. The pod was fine, and DeVee smiled at this. "Stand you bastard...” she growled, glaring at the man.
"mam.. We left... I’m sorry... Ill pay in any way possible... "
"Why did you come back?"
"We...we were attacked by... By... I don’t know what it was...”
"Well... You will pay. "
"Thank you-"
"With your life." she said the final words then shouted into the intercom "ALL HANDS ON DECK!" she points at the quivering man and says "grow some balls. Meet me on the deck."

She stood next to a man, surrounded by her crew in a circle around the two. "Face me." she said to him and he turned to face those cold, heartless eyes. as she came into view he felt something hard on his temple, and a click of a gun being readied.
"Last words?"
"I-"
"You are a traitor and get NO last words...”
She blew a hole his head; he fell dead to the deck.
"LET THIS BE A LESSON! THOSE WHO BETRAY ME WILL BE HUNTED DOWN AND KILLED!"

Revisiting old works: Rock Bottom: Chapter 1

Sophia Note put her face into the pillow and screamed her life away. She screamed for love, hate, life, death- she screamed because he didn’t want her, and she screamed because she still did. She screamed because no one knew what exactly went on in her head. She screamed because she was tired of being drugged, and she screamed because she needed the sweet embrace of sedation. She screamed because she was oh so young for all this, she screamed because her bones ached and her mind moaned with old age. She screamed for freedom and she screamed for structure. She wanted to be understood more then anything, and at the same time she just wanted to be left alone. Her world went black and her eyes closed tight, as she slowly let go to what she thought was the end.


Rock Bottom.
Devon Vee Anderson


Her eyes opened up to the view of Blue cement. A dark blue, she almost fell into the color. Her eyes burned, and she blinked several times. She looked over to her side to see a wall of the same cement. She sighed and turned another way- and opening. The oval she laid on had purple cushions for her body. All around there were hundreds of these little ‘human cubbies’. She saw many other people laying in them, they were several stories up, stairs leading down to the far down floor. She sat up, the cubby not permitting much sitting room, and she saw another person rise. The man looked like he was in his 40’s. He had a shiny bald spot right on the back of his head. He was dressed as a business man; his eyes were puffy as if he’d been crying for a very long time. He walked to the edge of the leveled cement, and looked down. He shook his head, and simply fell off the edge to what was obviously his death. Sophia rushed to the edge, and saw him hit the ground with a silent ‘thump’. A large foam pad had stopped his painful death. He sat up and placed his head in his hands, crying again. “Why?” he called out.

Right then a Boney hand grabbed Sophia’s shoulder. She almost screamed, but she quickly covered her mouth. She turned around to see a boney male, giving her a grim smile. He had the face of a model; except it was all sunken in. his eyes had a dark purple hue under them, as if he hadn’t slept for a long, long time. His eyes seemed too large for his head, but that was because he seemed to have absolutely no fat in his body. He had on what looked like trendy teenage clothes, right out of a magazine. He looked her over, and shook his head. “A new arrival, eh? And you already had to see a jumper. I guess its better you see that then an actual attempt.” His voice was raspy, and quite manly. It didn’t really fit his outer character too well.

Sophia was so confused. She looked at him as if he was crazy, and said, “actual…attempt? Where am I? What is this place? Is this hell? Heaven? Am I alive?” her voice quick, and frantic. She looked at him with anger in her confused blue eyes. She jerked her shoulder out of his clammy touch. His hand went to her hair, and touched it. It was a dirty blonde, and rather thrashed. She slapped his hand away, and took a small step away from him. She knew she was too close to the edge, but she would survive the fall if she had to.

“Well well well, aren’t we a lively one. You are in Rock Bottom, the worst place to be. Ever.” He shook his head sadly, and looked at the girl. “You got to the point where you couldn’t deal with it anymore. To such a point where you ended up here. So, Welcome to Rock Bottom.” He took a step back and held out his hand.

She shook it with a half heart. She was still very. Very confused, but at the same time she almost at home. She wasn’t going to have to deal with all that bullshit in her life anymore- what ever it was. She could barely remember those hard days. Now she just knew her sorrow and hate that filled her heart. She let go of the mans hand and looked at him with an odd eye. “What’s your name?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“My name? Oh i'm so very sorry. My name is Charles. And you are?...” he looked at her expectantly.

“Sophia… Sophia Note.” She said slowly. She hated her name. That name that had once meant something to some one- now it meant nothing. It was nothing but meaningless words to her, and that’s how it would stay.

He backed away from her, and turned. “Follow me Miss Note. There are many things you need to know.”

She followed after him almost obediently. He was the only thing somewhat familiar to her here, and she didn’t want to leave his side. He walked down the stairs for a second then stopped, causing Sophia to bump into him lightly. She gave a low apology and he sighed. He turned and started in on what seemed to be very much memorized. “Some people like to take the stairs, and to count them- while others like to through their selves over the side. It’s your choice!” he tried to sound enthusiastic, but simply couldn’t do it. He sighed once more and looked at her. He continued down the stairs, counting them out loud, just low enough so it seemed he was trying to be discreet.

Close at his heels Sophia caught herself staring at the sleeping people. She soon realized many of ‘sleeping’ people were simply crying in silence. Many of the occupants had their backs to the stairs, as if trying to find some privacy in a very public place.

Finally they reached the bottom of the stairs and she looked up. Beyond the pad, there was a net to catch those who tried to jump from the very top. The stairs were padded on the edges, and ended in foam on the bottom. It was all very full-proof. She looked at the male in front of her, who had gained some distance in her time of observation. She quickened her pace, and caught up quickly. He glanced at her, almost annoyed at her curiosity. He kept walking, quickening his pace. He pointed to a large archway. Inside stone benches, all a dark blue, to match the cubby holes. There was a counter, and behind it was a dark shadow. A few people ate at the tables. A man was dragging a tin tray along the cement, spoons coming out of the shadows, putting food on the tray. When he was done, he almost dragged himself to a table. No two people sat at the same table. They all sat in a silent sadness, making the cafeteria seem dead.

“This is the mess hall. This is where we eat as a community, and share our problems!” Charles enthusiasm was so forced it almost seemed to hurt him. Her tried to smile, but failed miserably. He turned and looked down the hall. He waved his hand in the general direction. “You know what? Go look at this shit hole your self. The public bath rooms are that way, the library, and the gym. And don’t go any doors with red frames. That’s it, kid. Have a fucking blast.”

His gentleman demeanor just washed away. She glanced down the hall and gave a slight sigh, and muttered, “I’m assuming you don’t like your job.”

He turned to her, and glared. “No, I don’t. I’m just as fucked up as anyone else here, and yet I have to be the happy greeter. I don’t know when the damn job was put on me, but apparently I can’t quit. So, you can go look around, and try and enjoy this god forsaken place the best you can. Now just leave me alone.” He turned around and without looking back went back to the cubbie holes- Sophie assumed he was going to go lay in his cubbie and sob silently like the other sad sights in the main room. Sophia gave a sad little look at the back of his head, then looked at the hall way he had so rudely pointed out.

She walked down the hall, taking in all the details. She looked up, and saw on the cement hall’s ceiling it read in white, “SMILE! BE HAPPY! IT WILL BE O.K.!” over, and over, and over. Her eyes glanced over everything quickly, when they settled on the bath room doors. The girl’s room sign was hunched over, as if she was crying, and the boy’s sign was holding his fists up in anger, screaming in agony. Sophia went into the girls, turning left into the light purple cement room. On the ceiling in large white letters it said, “THINK PRETTY!” She turned to the mirrors, most of which were cracked, only to see her frazzled blonde hair was a complete mess. She had rings under her eyes, and tear streaked cheeks. Her eyes looked hollow and sad, but almost…angry. She looked down at her jeans that clung to her. She forgot why they were so necessary to her, but she wanted to remember. Her Black wife beater showed off the tops of her teenage breasts, as if it was necessary. Around her neck was a chain, and on that chain was a little gold ring. Why didn’t she just wear the ring? She couldn’t remember. Her nails were painted a black that looked like it had started to scratch off. Her bare feet showed the same; also she now recognized the feel of a chain on her ankle. She looked at it and there was half a heart on it, oh so small. She felt an odd warmth inside her when she saw it, but couldn’t place her finger on this feeling. Her blue eyes blinked and water filled her vision, blurring it. Her hand slammed into the mirror and she gave out a cry. She heard a stall behind her close quickly, and some one almost ran out of the bathroom, startled by the crash. Sophia looked at her fist- she wasn’t bleeding, luckily. She felt dirty, after looking at her self for so long. She continued walking in the bathroom, almost dragging her feet to move. She just wanted to curl into a ball. The bathroom took another left, and she found the shower. One girl was in it, in the far back. Many shower heads lined the walls, curtains separating them. She closed a curtained area that was far from the other girl. She stripped her clothes off, putting them on a hook that was out side the shower curtain. The white curtain didn’t hide very much, as she could see the shape of the other girl, and could see her move. She let the water run over her, sighing once, and then felt the harsh tears streak her face quicker and quicker, the onslaught relentless.

She had stood in that shower for hours. She walked out, not caring about her exposed self, and found that there was a towel now hanging from her hook. She took it and quickly dried, putting her clothes back on. She walked out into the bathroom, looking for some where to put her damp towel. Next to the showers was a cabinet, which was a almost too clean white. She opened it. On the shelves were towels, and below it was a shoot, that said ‘DIRTY’. She let it fall into the shoot, shrugging lightly. Hanging on the doors were several brushes, which she used quickly on her hair. Soon she was down prepping herself, attempting to make her sorrow some what less, but to no prevail.

A large dark blue archway opened on her right, and a small room with one cement bench in it, right in the middle, and one shelf, that covered the back wall. the floor was padded with the same foam that was on the floor in the main room. The pathetic Library looked completely untouched. Sophia backed out, and continued on her quest to see what this place held in store. Her grand quest came to an end as she turned a corner, a rounded right. She dragged her fingers along the cement, when she saw the end of the hall, a red framed door at the very end. To her left another door frame, inside was a bunch of mats for exercising, all of which were white. There was a window, and she rushed to it, having to get on her toes to see into it, her small five foot one structure barely letting her see what she hoped was the outside world. Instead, there was a light, and what looked like an old painted hell side. She sighed and dropped down; turning her disappointed self to see what else there was for exercising. There were several pull-up bars, and a medicine ball. With plenty of space, It seemed they preferred exercising to reading in this strange facility.

She slowly backed out, and looked at the red framed door with some curiosity. It said ‘Closed’ on a sign, written boldly in black on the cheap white plastic. She sighed and turned away, believing it was best to just follow the rules and be obedient.

Revisiting old works: The child with old eyes.

The Child with Old Eyes
By Devon Vee

The small girl with her curly blonde hair was balled up under her bed. Her teenage brothers deep voice boomed through the house as he scolded his mother and sister. He was the man of the house. The father of the three children had died a year ago, when he Over dosed on meth.


The muffled voice couldn't be understood from under the eight year olds bed, the pink skirt like a fortress, protecting her from the cold cruel world the lurked beyond the thin fabric.

Soon the voices ceased- Obviously the drugs had kicked in. The girl rolled out from her pink fortress with no hesitation, knowing what she had to do perfectly, routinely. She opened her door which read "Ana" in pink Calligraphy, then closed it quietly. outside her room tables were over turned, glasses broken, needles on the run down beige carpet and mirrors and razorblades set carelessly on the beaten side tables. The finishing touch to the redecorating was her three heavily sedated family members laying around the house. She heard a burly voice say.
"Anastazia.....Your Hair!"
Her brothers hand reached up and tugged on one of her delicate curls, and let it bounce back into place.

His eyes were blood shot, his hands shaky, and his generally slicked back blond hair was hanging in his face. his neat demeanor had been wiped away by a high he craved in every sober moment. His white sleeve was rolled up, little needle marks in the bend on his elbow.

Anastazia, because she was distracted, stepped on his used needle. she quickly shook it off, and picked it up. she started to pick things up slowly. She didn't move quickly because it was dark-late. Almost 2 AM now. she looked at the couch with her mother and sister on it. Janice and Meri. Meri with curly blonde hair to match Anastazia's, and Janice the mother of the blondes, with limp black hair that was thin and dead. Both females were scrawny, Bags of bones, their minds destroyed my drugs and abuse, their bodies ravaged by the same. Both had a crusting around their nose, black rings around their weary eyes, and almost a deathly look to them.

Anastazia cleaned up the house and was done by 4 AM. she helped all three into their beds- she knew they wouldn't wake in time to take her to school- or to see she didn't go. The young girl closed her door, and locked it. she climbed under her comforter-The pink barbie family on it smiled so wide, Anastazia was sure every time she saw it that they were on some type of drug. She closed her tired eyes, eyes that had seen so much, handled so much that they couldn't possibly be an 8-year-olds- they seemed to be of a fretful old women. She didn't ever get to go play, she never went to school. She read from her text books when she wasn't cooking, cleaning, or baby sitting- the child inside her had died long ago.

Anastazia;s mother didn't have to work, because she got a check for $3,ooo a month for being a widow- And yet, they had barely any food. it was either spent on drugs or on clothes for meri and Janice- sometime her older brother Jack.

Anastazia woke up to a silent house. she slipped out of her bed, her pink night gown twisted around her. She had dreamt of daddy again , which was bitter sweet. She wiped her her big cheeks of tears- she hadn't quite grown into them yet. She walked out of her room into the house. Ever since daddy had died, the house felt dead. Anastazia didn't know why, or what made it feel like this. maybe it was her brothers explosive anger. Maybe it was her sisters decaying body, she was so sickly. What ever killed the house was killing everyone else inside it too- And that scared Anastazia.

The small girl went to the refrigerator to see if they had any food. Curdled milk, which Anastazia threw away, and a bottle of ketchup. She sighed, and looked under the sink. A pie tin was taped to the bottom, and she carefully loosened it. There were 2 nickels and a used needle inside. Not nearly enough for food. She sighed lightly and simply went back to sleep, hoping to sleep away the hunger.

This happened every night. every night Jack would Howl and Scream, Hit and throw, His anger lashing out at anything and everything. Every night they would all shoot up, or snort away all the sorrow and aggression, and every night Anastazia would whisper through the house, putting it back together to only be ripped apart again the next night- with no anger or hate, simply love for those who she picked up. She would look for food- and if there wasn't any, she would simply go to sleep, to be awaken by the muffled yells from the angry being that was Jack.

"Why is there never any god damned food in this Hell Hole?"

Woke Anastazia from her light slumber. Jack had awoken early, it was only 3 PM- and he was furious.

She stood and loekd at her door. Should she go take care of it? No one else would. So, the ever-so-brave eight year old silently went out her door, to find Jack shooting up already. Janice and Meri were peeking out their doors like children, acting more childish then the actual child. She looked at Jack, then at the fridge.
"We could go buy food."

By then Jack's eyes had drooped. This meant the other females could come out and play- and they seemed almost giddy. Jack had started the festivities early. Soon they had a mirror and a razor, a thin straw at their noses in less then 10 minutes. They snorted the day away, and more just kept coming. More powder, more snorting, more giggling. Meri's giggles went from happy to nervous, her eyes getting wider and wider. She started to convulse and shake- her eyes drooping and closing.

Anastazia scurried into her room, not knowing what this was. She thought it was just another bad trip. They happened every now and then. She fell asleep, waiting for this bad dream to come to an end- and yet it never did.

Anastazia started to drift and woke to sirens and Jack yelling out random obscenities. She peeked her head out to see two stretchers with two bodies, heads covered in the white sheet. They were bather in the red swirling lights from the ambulance- The windows were wide open, the neighborhood looking into their small home. The lights swirled, Jack yelled, The paramedics walkee Talkee's spoke of death, and now the house wasn't dead, but decaying. bugs munched at its flesh, and its brittle bones were cracking under the pressure of the event. Anastazia felt her head spinning and fell to the floor of her bedroom, passed out, head swimming, ears buzzing with,
"We have a 5150 in the LZ district..."
and Jacks hoarse voice chanting..
"No...No...No..."

When anastazia woke up, Jack was sitting in her room, staring at her. his eyes hollow, his voice weak, but his body language seemed strong- fake.
"So i guess its only you and me now, kid."
"You and me..."
She echoed, just as hollow as the man before her. her eyes were larege and watery.

Jack sighed and looked at his arm. The scared tissue made his addiction obvious. He got up and looked at the child. His eyes were sad, angry- confused? Maybe even regretful. He left the room, And if the girl had known she'd never seen him again, then maybe she would have said good bye.

Anastazia stood and looked in her mirror. He frail hungry body screamed sickly. She looked like her sister, her rotting sister.
"They're dead."
Her voice distant even to her own ears as she tried to convince herself of the obvious.
"They're Dead.
They're DEAD!"
She started to scream. She watched herself, she watched her emotion as she screamed to nothing. The house was silent as she ceased her speaking. She turned away from the mirror, no longer wishing to see the girl who was a whisper away from death. She walked out her door to see her brother body do limp, the noose around his neck doing its job. The draft from the open window made his body sway lightly in the wind, and for the firs time in a long time, he looked happy.

Anastazia closed her eyes and walked past, hands out so she wouldn't hurt herself. She stubbed her toe on another used needle, and she looked down. A large rubber band and many needles ready of heroine. Fury filled her small body, unadulterated fury, animosity, rage, and almost hellfire. What was so appealing, what made it worth their lives?! without thinking, she tied the rubber band around her small arm as she had seen Jack do it oh so many time. She looked at the crusty, bent needle, full of the thing that had killed her father, mother, sister, brother... Drugs, heroine, cocaine,- its all the same. The liquid taunted her,
"I'm better then you!"
It cried in her mind. She thrust it into her skin, and felt the pinch of her skin allowing the foreign object in. she felt the liquid flood her innocent veins, tainting them. She smiled and sat, watching her brothers body pleasantly sway in the wind.