- A bar, I'm not sure where it is. Maybe on Maitland Street? - (Jackie's Bar on Maitland St.)

You ever had one of those dreams, where you feel like your watching something, not living it? As if you don't have any control over anything that is happenening in this new world?

Yeah.


I am having one of those right now.


I am back home. The family is at the dinner table, talking loudly, I can tell by the way the mouths full of food keep moving up and down in patterns. See, there is no sound. Just the whine you hear when there is only silence. But the rest of the family doesn't notice, and they still somehow communitcate through the fog of silence. They feast on the food as if they would implode if they didn't have food in their food in their ever silently talking mouths. My plate is empty.

They are in pain. I can tell. It can tell it hurts them to keep eating, and talking, and screaming. But they don't stop, no, they only speed up, eating faster and screaming louder. Except there still is no noise.

My sister is crying. I can tell because her mascara is running. Wait. Tha-


Then I wake up. Some dumbshit ran into me. Probably is as drunk as I am. Man this place is loud.

I must have passed out.

This place looked like a dive before; what happened? And how did I pass out? Fucking hell Greg, what have I gotten myself into this time.

Fuck, the bartender is looking at me funny. Smile. Just smile. Make your way to the bathroom.

Oh where is the bathroom, stumble to the left, it has to be there.


I puke my guts out.



When I make it back to the table, I feel better. Which is great, cause that means I'm sober. Time for another drink.

I make my way to the crowded bar. It's quiet again. Huh. Maybe I was more drunk than I thought. Or I have been in the bathroom a lot longer than I thought I Was. Maybe I passed out there too.

Damn it's quiet. I hope I won't have to talk to one of these people. I just want my drink.





I just want my drink.

"So how much was that?" The man standing in front of me asks as one hand goes to zip his fly and the other goes to his back pocket. I stand up and brush the dirt from my knees, work seems to be pretty lax today considering my first customer only wanted to get through third base. No skin off my back though. It's a hell of a lot easier on me than sliding down a pole or spending God knows how long with my ankles pushed over my head. Eh, maybe it sounds like a dishonest way to live but I happen to think it's more like community service.

"How much do you have?" I ask, covering my face with a mess of hair so that I can roll my contact back into its proper place. Today I'm a brown eyed blond, even permanent dye doesn't last long in my hair, and my white roots are already peeping out.

"Fifty." He answers as he leafs through his wallet. That's a lie, it usually is, but I don't say anything. It's my day off and making even fifteen bucks would be better than nothing.

"I'll take thirty then." I hold out my hand expectantly, for a moment I wonder if I'm being too haughty but I shake the thought off. There's no need to be nice to some shit wrecked sap who isn't one of my regulars. Quickly the man hands me the cash and slips out ofbthe alley with a guilty scribbled on his face in neon orange. Well, maybe not literally, though that'd be damn I interesting.

Casually I step back into the bar, looking around to see if my seat has been taken. Thankfully a good sum of the bar flys have up and buzzed off to grander pastures. Either that or they went home to prepare for an on coming hangover. No one stays at the bar at this hour. Well, mostly no one. Feeling like it would be rude to drink after what I just did in the alley, and also wanting to get the taste out my mouth I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Maybe not all shameless whores do this but I figure if I'm going to be irresponsible with my body for money I shouldn't lose the importance of personal hygene. When I come out my seat is taken.

This isn't much of a problem. I simply move to the next stool over. Out if the corner if my eye I inspect the man who's sitting next to me. He's young, and has this cocky look to him. Granted, anyone who gets as drunk as he looks is either cocky or has a serious substance abuse problem. A part if me, the part that could use the good karma, wants to make sure he doesn't drink himself into an early grave. Another part of me, the part that would rather try to find someone slightly more sober to get a quick buck off of before the night is over, wants nothing to do with the guy.

"You're looking a little worse for wear there." I comment with a smile. Perhaps I've come off as mocking. It isn't like that would matter. I'm pretty and he's drunk. It doesn't matter what comes out of my mouth. Though, perhaps I'm being too shallow. Thoughts like that are what got me here in the first place.

"You're looking a little worse for wear there."


Fuck.

Look, I don't want you to think I'm a loner or anything, but I'm not much of a people person. Ok, that's a lie. I was once. But with time, people started being less and less interesting.

Right, right. The girl.

Her hair was strikingly blonde, and she looked at me with deep brown eyes. Her smile was one that was carefully rehearsed. Or maybe I'm just being cynical. I guess she could be the most innocent girl out there and I'd think she was a whore. Maybe I'm drunk. However I could tell that, whether I was drunk or not, she was very attractive. When's the last time I've been with a girl? Not since the band I guess. And I don't like pretendings those count either. Groupies and sluts who didn't even know the name of our band, much less my name.

Shit, she's looking at me wierd. I've been thinking too much. Maybe I'm a bit more drunk than I throught. Say something. Make it witty.

"Yeah, I feel only half as bad."


That was witty? You idiot.




"What's your name?" I asked.

"Yeah I only feel half as bad."

I spare a laugh at this. He's surprisingly articulate for someone in his shape. Perhaps he isn't as drunk as I think he is. However, this statement only reaffrims my previous assumption that he's cocky. I cock my head to the side as he asks me my name and tuck a strand if hair behind my ear. For a moment I almost answer with 'Harley' but I stop myself before the name comes out.

"Name is Avery." I smile again, my face feels tired. Probably because I'm tired, hell, I'm always tired. Thoughtlessly I chew on my lower lip as I think of what I want to do next. He alreadybhas my name, I'm already halfway to taking him home. I almost sigh, so I'd be snatching up some good vibes then? I mentally sighed this time. So help me God I better not get puked on.

"And your's?" I try not to add 'if you can remember it' at the end of my question. Now that would be a bit too snide. Once I get his name I can work on moving us out of the bar. A small hiss of a voice tapping at the back door of my mind suggests I take him to the alley and bash his head in. I frown for a moment. Old habits needed to learn how to stay dead. Quickly I shake the thought out of mind. I don't need any blood getting on my dress.

She seems interested. Why? Oh god I am not sober enough for this. This is going to end badly.


"Greg. My Name is Gregory Trest."

Stop.

"I just finished touring this side of the country with a band called Metal-lips."

Dude. Don't.

"I've wine'd and dine'd all over, and laid many a good women."

Seriously, Greg. We know where this is going. . .

"Yet all I feel is emptyness. I've hopped bar from bar, not recalling doing so, trying to find meaning in my life."

Shit.

"The funny part is that it is all bullshit. I'm just looking to find meaning in a life without one."

This is fucking ridiculous.

"It's like I'm looking for something, and the only thing that will stop the acheing is at the bottom of a glass."


Ok. Wow. What can I say. You've fucked shit up. You idiot. 'Let's throw our emotional turmoil at the first girl who talks to us tonight!' Great plan Greg.

I didn't tell her, but that last part was a bit true. I mean. It's like I'm always looking for something. The only times I'm not is when I'm drunk. Though I don't mean I get too drunk to care, it's just as if the urge to search goes away.

I take another sip of the beer. I turn shamelessly grin.

"What do you do?"

Sometimes I think the one of the only talents I have that's worth having is the ability to tune people out while looking like I'm actually listening. I catch a few words like 'band' and 'tour' you know, enough to piece together and explaination on my own. This guy is lucky he's talkin to me and not some other bimbo. Anyone else would have left by now.

"Right." I begin as I hop down from the bar stool. I give the man a looking over, it's going to be a pain in the ass to help him walk if he can't stand on his own. Bastard is lucky I need a few good deeds under my belt. Though, I'm still feeling kind of selfish. Maybe I'm not approaching this right.

"How well can ya stand Hun?" I place a hand on my hip, but only one. If this guy falls I'm going to need to make an honest attempt at catching him if he goes tumbling to the side. I also conviniently ignore his question. "You need to get away from this bar and back somewhere where you won't drink yourself to an early grave." I chew on my tongue for a moment. Maybe this is tactless, oh well, so is he.

Oh great. I've stopped forming words.

You know that moment of drunk, the exact moment when you know your going to regret everything? Yeah. That's what just hit me.

The world is s p i n n i n g. C a n ' t t h i n k s t r a i g h t.

I grab the counter for support. Air. That's what I need. Why is she still here? She's looking at me like she knows me. Or is that concern in her eyes? Am I passing out? No. Not yet.

"I need."

She tilts her head a bit, as if waiting for a response.

"Air."

I stumble towards the exit. I nearly knock over someone on the way out. Is this the back door? Then why isn't there anyone out here? The fresh air hits my lungs. It helps. But it's not what I need.

What do I need then? What do I need?

I close my eyes, and it feels like I'm dreaming again. The family. The dinner. The food. No noise. My sister is crying. I can tell. Mascara is running down her face. Wait. That's not Mascara. It's coming out of her eyes. What is-

But when I open my eyes. I'm still on the street.

I follow the guy, Greg, out of the bar. He looks like he's two steps away from kissing the floor. Abruptly he bumps into someone and they're knocked into me. Standing my ground I reach out and grab their arms in order to steady them so as to make sure they don't topple onto me. Despite the fact that I essentially stopped them from sending the two of us to the ground they still scowl and exclaim something vulgar. I grunt and walk off, I've already chosen one drunk to concern myself with.

I walk outside and find him on the concrete. Beautiful. I walk over to him and press mu skirt against my thighs as I crouch down next to him. I pause for a moment to wonder just why I'm doing this. I just want to go home. But I can't just up and vanish into the night. If I leave this guy here it's going to way on my concious. I fucking hate my concious.

"You need to get up." I state dryly. I could've said some snappy little quip but something tells me now isn't the time for humor. I look up at the sky for a moment, surpess a yawn, and then look back at Greg. "Let me help you." The sentence come out sounding more like a stern command than a reassuring suggestion. I wonder of I'm visibly vexed.

Taking one of his arms I hoist up part of he torso. This body is stronger than my old one, maybe stronger than a girl of my stature should be. I hope he doesn't notice. He shouldn't. I mean, it isn't like I'm throwing him over my shoulder and carrying him. In fact, I'm not sure I can even do that. A part of me wants to test it out, if I could do that maybe I could do worse things. I shake off the thought. Those ideas are neither here nor there.

For a moment, Ethan though someone had been thrown from the bar, before realizing that the man's momentum came solely from his own body. He hit the pavement with a smack and didn't move, before a woman in a skimpy outfit followed him out.

He switched the cigarette to his other hand and pulled the phone out of his pocket, checking the time. It was much too early for him to start seeing people like this. But surely enough, he could smell the booze on him as if he had been bathing it it. He wrinkled his nose, but couldn't help but feel some pity.

No matter how stupid it might be, everyone came here for a reason. The man had something to escape from.

Normally, he would stay out of the situation. After all, the back door would usually be littered with bodies awash with their midnight nectar--both from the glass, and regurgitated. But, it had been a lonely night.

"Do you need some help with... uh... that?"

Paige ran her hand through her hair. It was greasy and a little gritty from going too long without a shower, but it was hard to tell that from just looking. She had been waiting outside a bar to ask for some change, hopefully a ride, when she saw a very very drunk man stumbling out, followed by what she was pretty sure was some kind of prostitute. She watched as she tried to help him up and another man nearby tried to help her help him. She smiled at this. A cycle of people helping. Perhaps if she helped too, she could get a ride or crash on someone's couch. She straightened her dirty clothes and ran over. "Hey can I help with anything?" She stood up as tall as she could, in case she had to lie about her age.

You ever been to a circus? You know when all the clowns get out of the car, one by one? ,As if they have someone unknown purpose which coincides without everyone else's? As if they all just happen to think "Hell, your going downtown? I got eight friends who are too! Let's carpool!"Yeah. Same idea. Although that's in hindsight I guess.


But right now I can't think about anything too well, so that witty thought escapes me. In fact all I can hear is that girl talking to me. Asking me to help her help me. Damn what was her name? I had it a minute a go. I can tell by her tone that she's getting tired of me. Why is she still here then? What am I to her and her to I? Fuck. I'm getting close to quoting Shakespear.

Then another voice. A man this time. Asking her if she needs help with 'that'. Thanks asshole, I guess I'm just an object now. Ugh, I can smell his cigarette. When your as wasted as I am right now, you can freaking smell everything. EVERYTHING. Was he smoking in the bar? That's illegal, which must mean he knows the owner. Maybe I should ask. The girl is helping me to my feet. Damn she's strong. I thank her. I think I do at least.

My god. Another one. This time a girl. Am I a freaking spectacle? That's a stupid question. I obviously am. She doesn't come out of the bar though. She looks more hopeful than the other girl, though that doesn't say much. I still haven't seen the guy though.

I hear another question, something about where I live or something. I'm not really paying attention anymore. I now have three people come out of nowhere to help me.


Fuckin' Clown cars.

The homeless girl moved in under the man's other arm to support him, not that it did much good. She was far shorter than the other woman. "If you tell us where you live we can get you home." she said it slowly and clearly. She'd seen people this drunk before, even worse. She grunted a bit under the man's weight as she tried to support him with her slight frame. "I hope he doesn't live far." If he was this drunk she could probably just stay at his house after they got him to his room. The prostitute probably wouldn't give a damn as long as she got what she wanted. She didn't know about the other guy though.

This guys is beginning to be more like a sack of potatoes and less like an actual person. Nonetheless I think I like him more when he can't form coherent sentences as opposed to before when he was babbling on about some failing band. I'd like to say his inability to speak makes him more attractive but the fact that he looks like he's about to pass out puts a damper on things.

"Do you need some help with... Uh... That?" A voice from behind me asks. I turn my head to catch sight of a brown haired guy standing over me. He smells like cigarettes, I bite my lip as the taste of tobacco forms on the back of my tongue. I'd love a smoke right about now. I like to think of myself as being independent enough. As in if someone offers to help me I'm more than likely not going to turn tune down. Tonight is no different.

"Yeah." I mutter as I bring Greg up to a semi-standing position. "Can you keep him steady for me?" My tone has changed now, probably because a good portion of the stress has been aliviated. I'm not sure I like my tone when I'm not under pressure though, its airy; like I'm not all there. And, hey, maybe I'm not all there. Still, I don't need other people being aware of that.

Out of the alleyway a girl comes around to the small group myself and the two men have formed. She looks young, to young to be anywhere near a bar. I furrow my brow at her and frown slightly. She asks if she could help. I'm not sure there's anything she can help with. My gave shifts from Greg and the new guy and then back to her.

"Aren't you a bit young to be hanging around bars?" The question comes out before I even realize what I'm saying. I heave a sigh and grit my teeth. Why am I squeezing myself into someone else's business yet again? Before I can say much else she weasles her way under his other arm. "We're taking him to my place." I answer flatly as I reach into my purse for my keys. "He's too drunk to speak, there's no way I'm dropping boozer here off at his place and leaving him there."

Ethan nodded and reached down to hoist the man up, but hardly had he touched the man when a small girl slipped in under his arm to hoist him up.

It was a little strange for one drunk guy to get this much attention out the back of the bar... Had everyone suddenly become completely caring and charitous all of a sudden?

Wow, that sounded pretentious...

"It seems like this guy's pretty popular tonight... Here, I got him." As the girl trembled under the dead weight, Ethan shuffled in to alleviate the load.

The woman said they'd take him to her house. Hmm... A bit of journey for him tonight. That's good... he was feeling like walking anyway.

Avery. That's what it was. The smaller girl gets under my other arm, and they help me walk. She seems almost excited. The man's still at an angle that I can't see him. I can still smell his cigarette as I try not to think of smoke and grease and bile.

Damn.

The wind shifts though, and I pick up some fresh air again. Why do I feel like I want another drink? I should hate alcohol right now.

They are moving me. Towards someone's house. Avery's? That was her name. I'm sure of it. She's pretty. I'll give her that. But there is something about her. Something cold. Or maybe she just feels cold. How'd I get myself into this situation again?

Again? Oh yeah. I guess I've been here before. Dozens of times. Only this time there are people here with me. Makes me feel less alone. Less like I'm dying.

Like I'm dying.

I'm dying?

Who's dying?

"My sister is dying."

Whoa. Said that one out loud. But they all keep talking, no one heard me. Why the fuck did I just say that? What's... What's going on with me?


Fuck it, I gotta stop thinking. I'll start humming a tune to distract myself.


Do-do da-de-da, gently down the stream. . .


merrily. . . Merrily. . .










Life is but a dream?

Admittedly, not holding onto Greg makes me feel a bit useless. What am I expected to do while the other two drag him along the sidwalk? Stand behind them and supervise? I mentally chastise myself. One minute I've got my panties in a bunch because I've talked myself into being a good Samaritan with no help, now I'm all hot and bothered because I feel like I'm not doing anything. I suppose I just can't be happy.

"Well." I begin, feeling a bit awkward. After all, I'm leading our little expedition. "My car is that way." I motion down the block. It isn't really down the block, no, but I'm not about to make more hand gestures for 'down the corner and across the street'.

I reach into the side of my bra and pull out two keys. Yes, there's only two. I only have two things worth locking: my apartment and my car. Both of which are rather cheap. It isn't as if I expect to stay in the area much longer now. If stay in one place for two long someone is bound to find me and I figure I've nearly over stayed my welcome.

"Follow me." I chirp. As I begin to walk rather briskly down the block I wish I had brought my purse with me that way I could have a cigarette. Now that my hands are I could smoke one. Maybe if I bat my eyelashes and ask real nice the brown haired guy will let me bum one off of him. Mid way through my stride I stop and glance at my two helpers. I narrow my eyes fir a minute and chew on my lip. I should probably know the names of the people helping me. Fantastic, more names to remember. Damn, I'm being a pesimisst again. I have to stop that.

"Whatter your names?" I ask, I probably should annunciate my words better. 'Whatter' probably just makes me seem like a dumb prostitute. Oh well, I'm tired(though I digress, I'm always tired) that's my excuse.

Man, this guy was heavy... He didn't know what it was about it, but the actual weight of a person didn't seem to matter if they just didn't want to be lifted. Or didn't care. You couldn't really tell which when they were unconscious.

"Whatter your names?"

He looked up at the woman. She looked tense. He couldn't really read what she might have been feeling; whether she was annoyed or worried. Not that he was good at reading people, but... She also may have been very good at creating a facade.

Ah, who was he kidding... He shouldn't try to read into things too much. There was enough to worry about anyway. Let's just focus on the matter at hand.

"Ethan." Pause, gotta catch a breath. "It's... nice to meet you."

Man... Why did he have to have so much trouble talking to people lately? It wasn't always this awkward.

"I'm Paige," the thin girl managed to get out between heavy breaths. "Can I get your name while we're askin'?" Inside she swore she would never try to lift someone this drunk again. It seemed like the car was only down the block from the prostitute's motions so for that at least, she was grateful. She smiled and let out a breathy chuckle as the smoker helped her carry the drunk down the street, being led by a prostitute.

As they shuffled along she wondered what this lady's house would be like. A lot of prostitutes spent the money they earned on drugs instead of other stuff, but sleeping on the floor inside was way better than sleeping on the ground outside at any rate, on most nights anyways. She looked up, only being able to see a few stars through the street lights. Sometimes spending a night outside away from civilization was amazing, but it was slightly chilly tonight, and she wasn't in the mood for anything amazing.

So a scrappy teen and a smoker are carrying a drunk to a prostitue's car. . . That sounds like a horrible beginning to a joke.

"My name is Avery." I answer the scrappy girl's inquistion. She didn't answer my question. If she went walking behind me I'd have narrowed my eyes at her. The walk to the car is short, thank god, and I look behind my back every so often to make sure I'm not too far ahead. I worry a bit about what will happen once we get back to the car.

Will Paige and Ethan expect a ride? It doesn't matter to me either way. What bothers me is that I think I've forgotten how to talk to people. Well, normal people. I can talk to my clients, and Seekers, and that fucker Japeth. However, these (seemingly) normal people make mr uneasy. I could say something that sounds off. Or my contact could fall out or my lip color could come off and they'd see how white my lips are and that would lead to questions and-calm down. Nothing is going go wrong. Everything will be just fine.

I get to the driver's side of my car and open up the door. My car is nothing impressive. It's just an old clunky Honda. It isn't falling apart but it sure isn't anything to be proud of either. That's just fine though. I use the money on making my apartment look half decent and buying clothes. I suppose it's typical woman priorities to put myself and my home before my car.

I roll down all the windows before stepping out of the car. "Just put him in the back."

With one hand, Ethan opened the back door, and he and Paige both managed to shove him in the back seat. Then, he stood back, thinking.

"Hop in, we'll all go have a party at my place!" Is that what he was expecting? This had already gotten incredibly weird with this guy getting so much attention. But what if she still needed help?

But why would she want two random strangers to come to her house, even for helping out this guy?

He stood awkwardly by the car door. "Well, since you don't even know us, I don't want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already are... But he's still a lot to handle for one person."

Paige tripped and tumbled into the car with the drunken man, landing awkwardly over his lap. She quickly scrambled out of the way before he puked on her, and so she could get further into the car. It was kind of a crappy car, but at least it was one. Not that Paige could talk, she didn't have a car, or a lisence or....well anything really. She went about buckling the drunk in before settling in herself.

"Yeah, you'll totally need some help getting him inside," she added after Ethan's comment. She motioned the smoker into the passenger's seat, checking herself out in the rearview mirror as she waited for the prostitute to get in. All she had to do now was get inside the house and hopefully she would get a nice couch to sleep on for her help.

Ethan's first thought was, Who does she think she is? Avery never said we could ride with her... Who was this little girl anyway? She looked really dirty, now that he looked at her better, as if she hadn't showered in weeks.

"Y'know," he said between a few drags of his cigarette. "That's really up to her."

He looked up at Avery, waiting for a reaction to the street girl having hopped right on in after the drunkard.

I close the door to my car and start it up as the other two throw boozer into the backseat. I don't notice that the girl is seated in my car until she starts talking. Jaw clenched instate daggers at her from the rear view mirror. I don't particularly like people who have no business telling me what to do ordering me around. I get enough shit from customers everyday, I don't need it in m down time.

The murderer in me reminds me that there's a gun under the front seat. The side of my mouth twitches slightly as I think of using it. It sure as hell wouldn't be the worst way I've killed someone. Still, it wouldn't be smart either. I can't expect to live like a normal person if I'm up and shooting people all willy nilly. Normal people don't blow other people's brains out.

"Well." I begin, I have on a smile as if my tone will follow my face. However, it just sounds sarcastice. I don't care much though, and instead continue to go with the same tone. "I think that I'd do a better job of carrying him than you." I turn in my seat and face the girl. "In fact I never asked for your help you kinda just jumped in. Kinda like how you just jumped right on in my car." I clench my jaw tight so as not to say anything too vehement.

"So now you tell me why I should let some twelve year old looking kid, who at this
point should probably step out of my car, that's hanging around bars at some questionable hour into my car and then into my apartment?" I turn around and buckle my seat belt before slumping back into the seat. "Ethan if you don't mind helping me a bit more then get in the car." My tone still sounds a bit testy. I know I didn't yell, I didn't even raise my voice, but I still feel like I lost my temper which is probably the closest is gotten to feeling something that wasn't 'neutral' Ina while. I don't like it.

The girl stared at her with her child like eyes and blinked for a second before narrowing her eyes a little bit. "Look, I'm just trying to make myself useful. I'm hanging around at this hour because I like to be out at night. I'd also like a place to sleep if you don't mind. Unlike SOME people I'm not willing to suck a stranger's cock to get that so I decided to do a good deed instead." she looked over at the smoker. "Obviously you're not done working for the night but I can wait outside if you let me stay over." She grinned at the prostitute, but kept her hand on the handle of the car door in case she needed to make a quick escape.

Avery's voice was harsh, but at her permission, Ethan quickly slipped into the car. He hoped she wasn't too pissed at him, even if she was at the little girl. Well, maybe he could help make things better later on, as long as--

"--SOME people I'm not willing to suck a stranger's cock--"

At this point, he latched onto the conversation, and his jaw dropped open. What the hell was she saying? She let herself into a stranger's car and was yelling at her?

He could almost feel the horrible tension rising in the driver's seat.

Shit.