Trick could see Punk contemplating her question. His gaze swept over his attire, and she could tell he was unsure of how he would answer. After a moments, he finally did. "Uh, I could use some new britches... I don' sleep with a shirt." There was that accent again. Has he been speaking like this all night? Did I just not notice until now? She was slightly confused, but it didn't really matter anyway. The boy continued, "'Sides, you'll need to have easy access to the bandage, right?" That was true. Trick shrugged and nodded, deciding it was best that he did change. Maybe she could get the blood out of his jeans... She knew she had bought bleach sometime recently... Well, within the past few months. That was only if he wanted to keep them however. Trick shuddered. I certainly wouldn't want a constant reminder of that around...

"Alright. Would you prefer jeans or sweatpants?" Trick looked him over once, then remembered the time of night it was. She decided for him. "Sweatpants. No sense squeezing into jeans to be uncomfortable for the night." Trick made her way to a small closet. It was built most likely to hold utility items, but Trick kept her apartment clean without ever needing enough machinery to fill the closet. A large box rested on the upper shelf, which Trick reached for after locating it. She stepped back and placed it on the glass coffee table in front of the couch. Removing the cardboard lid (which notably had no dust over it), Trick rifled through the contents. Different colors and fabrics were thrown aside until Trick finally found what she was looking for; nicely sized black sweatpants. As she lifted it from the bottom of the box, a few papers and photos fell out. Trick's hand lashed out and swept up the items, stuffing them into the bottom of the box. Unknowingly, she had missed a photograph, which was laying on the floor next to the table. Trick cleared her throat.

"Yeah, you can wear these. They should fit you just fine." Trick held the pants by the hem, and the pant legs dropped down in between the two. She took a step towards Punk and pinned the pants to his hips. "Yeah. Definitely." She mumbled to herself, before placing the pants on the coffee table. After a moment of starting at him awkwardly, Trick shook her head.

"Right, privacy. That's a thing now." Trick turned away from him and walked back to the corner of the apartment containing the kitchen. Grabbing the bottle, she took a swig as she stared at the wall with her back facing Punk.

I told myself I'd never open that box again... Trick took another gulp of the liquid, before biting her inner lip and waiting in silence.

Punk had watched her get the box down, and watched as she put the sweatpants against his hips. When she left mumbling about privacy, he gave a slight chuckle. He slipped out of his blood stained jeans and bent down to pull the sweatpants up his legs. He happened to see a picture on the ground, halfway under the couch, half not. Punk pulled the pants up and picked the picture up, examining it. His blood ran cold first, then boiled hot at the picture of Trick and Angel kissing in front of his eyes. He stomped into the kitchen where Trick was.

"What in the fuck is this?" He asked, throwing ththe picture onto the counter in front of her. He was enraged. He felt he had been tricked, this was a set up to get him caught slacking off by Angel so that he could get killed or some shit. "You know what? Fuck you! I can't fucking trust you!" His drawl sounded menacing now, his voice a growl. "Angel's girlfriend over here taking care of me! This is probably some fucked up little trap." He paused in his rant, looking down at the sweatpants. "These are his, aren't they?!?" He asked. He was ddisgusted, and he pulled them off, stripping down to his boxers and throwing the pants back to the living room.

Punk was feeling a bit irrational, so he went back to the living room and picked up the sweatpants and put them back into the box. He went back to the kitchen and put the box in the sink. He then went back to his pants and dug around. Eventually, he pulled out a lighter and stalked back to the kitchen. "You feel like tricking me, Trick?" He asked in an enraged voice. "You want to burn me? I burn you." He lit the lighter, then threw it into the box. He quickly ran to the smoke detectors and disconnected it, then got lighter fluid and poured it into the box, making the flames a bit bigger. Maybe this combination of withdrawal, alcohol, and this new discover wasn't such a good thing. He didn't even mind that he was down to his boxers now. He waited for her defense, for her to attack him yet again. This time he would be ready.

Lost in her own thoughts, Trick did not notice Punk until a photo was thrown down onto the counter in front of her. She jumped, and her eyes darted right to the enraged boy’s face. His expression was... Terrifying, at the least. His eyes seemed to burn into her, and his jaw was stern and tense. She quickly moved her vision to the item he had thrown down in front of her. It was... A photo. Shit. Trick immediately knew what had been printed on the photo paper without studying it. Already intoxicated, her emotions went haywire. Trick had never been the angry drunk, so first her mood changed to fear, and depression. Her throat choked as she tried to speak, and she couldn’t form words until after he had dumped the box’s contents into the sink.

“You... You fucking egotistical bastard.” The moisture that had formed in her eyes originally from sorrow were now simply blurring her hateful glare at the boy. Yes, the boy. He was no man. “Are you eleven?! Where do you get your kicks throwing these fucking temper tantrums all the goddamn time? Everything I’ve done for and to you I’ve down for your own goddamn benefit, because I couldn’t leave a pathetic little boy in the street. But you couldn’t just be fucking grateful could you?! You’ve called me horrible things, tried to kill yourself on my floor, and now you have the audacity to fuck with my stuff?!” The flames on the box of memories grew.

“I’m not Angel’s girlfriend. Hell, I might have even told you the story if you hadn’t reacted only out of rage like a child. But you know what? I don’t owe you shit. Angel is the reason I’m still stuck in this godforsaken place. I have more reason to hate him than you do, you fucking prick. Why do you think that shit was hidden in my closet? Everyone has their past. I have a goddamn right to my own privacy.” Trick was done with being nice to this kid. She had certainly tried. She had kept her temper, tended his wounds, fed him, clothed him, housed him. But what had come to show for it? Smoke was filling the room. Trick’s eyes burned from standing so close to the flames. Grabbing the box quickly, she darted towards the door. She just barely got it open before the flame reached her hand. It burned like a bitch, but her inebriated self didn’t care. Trick flung the box out into the alley her apartment laid on, turning away from the flames and not looking back. Her gaze quickly fell on the boy by the sink.

“There. It’s gone. Does that make you happy? Do you think you’re going to stop with your fucking temper tantrum?” Her voice cracked again. Shit, not with the tears goddamnit. Trick’s eyes began to water. She walked towards Punk for a moment, but refused to look at him anymore. She grabbed the bottle she had left on the counter, and walked back into the crisp outside air. The emotionally distraught girl dumped some of the alcohol onto the flames. The heat grew more intense. With a deep sigh, she walked back to her apartment and left the door open. Trick climed the ladder to her bed and laid across the matress-leaving her back to Punk. The only sounds from her were strained breathing and the occassional movement of a bottle.

“The door’s open.” Trick had come to the point where she didn’t care if he left. Her horribly burned hand clutched the cool bottle beside her, tipping it to her lips every few seconds. The alcoholic that was suppressed in her could finally show. All Trick could feel anymore (or cared to feel, for that matter) was the burn in her throat.

When it was all said and done, Punk could honestly say he felt like a complete Dick. He wasn't raised to act this way. What had he done with himself? He couldn't even remember how he used to act, but he knew it was a hell of a lot nicer than this. He despised himself in this exact moment, but there was no ti.e for that right now. He had to attempt to fix things. To help the girl who had helped him. It was the right thing to do, he knew that. He had to deal with his wrongdoings.

He sighed and went around the room, picking up the mess that he had made in the process of getting everything done that be did before. He took the money and the ring out of his pocket, knowing that he didn't deserve to have any of it. He found a sort of piggy bank on a shelf, and stuffed the money and ring in there. It was the least he could do to pay this poor girl back. This poor, strong girl, that be had reduced to tears. He really was scum. He couldn't deal with that, with knowing that. He used to shun men who made women cry. And here he was, doing the same thing. He might as well be hitting her! Which he remembered that hhe also threatened to do. What was happenings to him?

Punk walked silently over to the bed, standing behind Trick nervously. "I... I wanted to extend my apologies, ma'am..." He began in his drawl. "See, I'm not usually like this. I used to look down upon men who did this to women... and here I am doin' the very same thing." His voice wavered slightly, but he was determined to stay strong. "This business has taken its tole on me, and it ain't even my fault I got sucked into it... not that there's any excuse for the way I been treatin' you, miss." Punk sighed a bit, knowing that none of this was probably helping. "Now, I'm sure you don't want to see the likes of me again. Just say the word, an' I'll be gone, I swear it." Punk stood there, awaiting the response from the young girl in front of him.

”I used to look down upon men who did this to women... and here I am doin’ the very same thing.” The same thing Angel had done, and the same thing Trick’s father had done. Trick blamed her father for where she was now... He was an abusive psychopath. The reason she had asked for money from the Saints was to escape him. When her father had finally come after her, Angel was in the area. Angel took the man down-and Trick was left with a far less harsh beating than her faher had planned. Trick had thought Angel as her savior... An actual angel who was sent to help her, actually. Only later did she realize that Angel had come after her for her money; he wasn’t just passing by. Trick had been surrounded by abusive men with extreme tempers all of her life. The fact that Punk displayed the same characteristics simply reminded her of her pathetic childhood, and as strong as she was, that little girl inside of her was frightened, and Trick was forced into an emotional breakdown. All she wanted now was to be held, and to be told that everything was going to be alright, just like Angel and her father would say after they had hurt her.

“It’s sick isn’t it? Broken people always find their way back to the ones who broke them in the first place...” Trick mumbled, unsure if Punk could hear her at all. It was then that she heard his words. “Just say the word, an’ I’ll be gone, I swear it.” No. Please don’t leave me here alone. That was the last thing that Trick wanted at that moment. Unable to form words, Trick flipped over and studied his face again. Her eyes were wide; partially with fear, partially with hope of acceptance. She couldn’t stand being this weak in front of anyone. When she didn’t see any animosity on his face, Trick made her way down the ladder. She stood directly in front of him, looking up at him due to his height. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words would come to her. Instead, she bit her lip, and moved forward.

Trick's arms wrapped around the man's neck, and her face buried itself into his shoulder. She took a deep breath; inhaling his scent. Her eyes closed and she tightened her arms around him.

I just don't want to be alone.

Punk actually winced at her muttered words. So he really had broken her, hadn't he? He was more low down than he thought he was. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand himself. All he wanted to do was go back and let the radiator burn his face off. Maybe the pain would help this girl. To watch him suffer as he made her suffer. Maybe if he were dead it would help her. Honestly, it'd be easy. Find an empty needle, fill it with air, and inject it in his blood. The bubble in his heart would kill him pretty instantly. He was certain it would help her.

He was about to turn and go do it when Trick crawled down the ladder and looked at him with fear in her eyes. Fear he had put in there. His eyes began to water a bit at the thought. What had he done? He knew what he had done. And it was unacceptable. Trick looked as though she would speak, but instead she hugged him. Punk was quite shocked to say the least. He didn't expect something like this from a girl who he hurt so badly. Who he broke. Who he put fear into.

Punk gently pulled the girl off him, his watering eyes looking to the ground. "I don't deserve any sort of affectionate touch." I don't deserve your help. Your friendship. I deserve nothing from you. His thoughts went on and on, but he merely took a step back, away from Trick. "I hurt you... I don't deserve anything from you. I should just go and rejoin the scum of the world. Or help the world by removing this bit of scum that is standing in front of you." Punk squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, fighting the emotions inside him.

Trick's heart nearly stopped when he pushed her away. Instinctively she turned her head and closed her eyes; protecting herself if he were to strike her. When no hand came, she opened one eye to see Punk looking at the ground. "I don't deserve any sort of affectionate touch." Trick opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. "I hurt you... I don't deserve anything from you." That's where you're wrong... "I should just go and rejoin the scum of the world. Or help the world by removing this bit of scum that is standing in front of you." Punk, no! Don't think like that... Trick's breath caught at his words. She shook her head and whispered a, "Shh..." softly. The man closed his eyes and set his jaw; remaining silent.

"You've met with a terrible fate..." Trick cooed, stroking a hand over his face, which was still tilted towards the ground. She leaned up on her toes and pressed her forehead against his, breathing in his air. After a few moments of silence and steady breathing, her eyes flashed to his face. Punk's eyes remained closed, as if he was containing whatever thoughts or emotions he was feeling at the time. Trick's gaze slowly scanned down his face to his lips. So close. Her inebriated self wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on hers, and to pull him tighter against her. But Trick still had an ounce of self control left in her... Her face tiled closer to his, and her lips were a mere centimeter from his. She closed her eyes, reveling the moment. Her hands were placed on either side of his face, and her thumbs stroked his jaw... His masculine and defined jaw. It was just a bit more defined than his cheekbones, and Trick's insides groaned at the sight. Self control.

Shifting slowly, Trick kissed the right side of his face tenderly. Her lips lingered on his skin for a moment, and she held his face in place with her hands. When she finally released him, she planted her feet back on the ground, tilting her head under him. She was searching for a reaction. Trick was unsure if that gesture of affection would be accepted by him, or thrown in her face. A bit panicked, Trick nuzzled her head under his chin and slid her right hand to hold his neck. Her left hand lingered on his face, stroking his cheek slowly and comfortingly with her fingers.

Punk stood absolutely still when he felt her touch his face. Her hand was warm, and sending little shocks, like electricity, through him. The image of the cozy room by the fireplace flashed in his mind again, but he shoved it back down. That wasn't going to happen. Those things didn't happen to prostitutes. They just fucked everything with legs, got either sick or hooked to drugs, and died at an early age. He already knew all that was gonna happen. So why did he keep hoping for this romantic lifestyle? The peaceful life? He knew it would never come to him. It would always be out of reach for him. And he resented that.

When her forehead pressed against his and she cradled his face, he wwas a bit afraid to open his eyes. So, he didn't. He kept them closed and listened to the steadiness of her breathing, felt and smelled how close she was, the alcohol on her breath hitting his face. But it wasn't an unpleasant smell. And the warmth of having her near was somewhat nice as well. Having a woman's soft and smooth skin so close to him, so warm, so comforting. He was a bit surprised when he felt her lips on the skin of his cheek. He briefly wondered what those lips would feel like on his own, then cast the thought aside. He wasn't looking for romance. That wasn't an option in his life anymore. The Saints took that away too.

When she put her head under his chin, Punk wound his arms around her waist and held her tightly but tenderly, burying his face in her neck. "Thank you." He managed to breathe out, hardly making a sound as he held her close. This is what he needed. A friend to be there for him. Could he call her his friend? He didn't know. Well, that wasn't true. He knew she was his friend. He didn't know if he was her friend though. He wasn't quite sure if she had accepted him as a friend, though he very much hoped she did. After a moment of embracing, Punk gently slid out of Trick's arms.

As he was moving away, he caught sight of her burned hhand, and his eyes immediately showed his concern. "Did you burn yourself again?" He asked, taking her gently by the wrist and examining the hand in front of him.

With her head pressed against Punk's chest, Trick was sure that she had felt/heard his heart rate increase. Either that, or she was listening to her own heart, which was most definitely racing as well. Arms slid around her waist and she sighed with relief. Her eyes closed softly. She didn't want this moment to end. It had been awhile since she was just... held. You'd think that with such a physical job someone would hold her. That wasn't the case. Her looks were way too harsh for anyone to try that. Most were simply intimidated by the thought, so they wouldn't dare.

But Punk... He dared. Sure she had initiated it, but right now... His arms were around her. And that's all that mattered He's holding me... Why? Do I deserve this? ... Since when? Trick's heart was in her throat. She didn't know what it was about this boy, but his touch was electric. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, and she found herself tightening her grip on him. "Thank you." He whispered, his voice strained. Her heart broke. I should be thanking you. The embrace seemed to end as quickly as it began. However, that feeling was most likely because Trick didn't want to be anywhere but in his arms right now. Punk's eyes shifted to her hand, and his face contorted with concern. She was confused for a moment. "Did you burn yourself again?"

Trick's eyes slowly made their way to where his hand was holding her wrist. Her hand, was in fact, a pinkish color. It appeared swollen, but only slightly. Her wrist had a streak of the color, but the rest of the burn was mostly on her hand. It wasn't until she had observed the wound that the pain settled in. "Fuck.." She growled. Trick hated burns.

"Must have happened when I... When I was throwing out that box." Trick started to feel dizzy. She could handle all sorts of pain (god forbid, she is a prostitute), but not burns. Burns were the worst thing in the world for her. Swaying a bit, she staggered over to the couch. Her focus remained on her hand, and her face contorted into that reflecting agony. "It hurts..." Her drunken self mumbled. Trick held her limp right arm in the air with her left. The pain settled in further, and the girl cursed under her breath.

God this hurts like a bitch... Where's my bottle?

When he heard that the burn was from the box, Punk's face contorted in agony and guilt, horrible guilt. "Oh God, I'm so sorry!" He cried out, on the verge of tears because of what he had done. He pulled Trick up into his arms, cradling her and carrying her into the bathroom. He had already sobered up by now, due to everything that had happened recently. When he got to the bathroom, he sat her down on the edge of the bathtub and began rifling through her cabinets and closets and everywhere he could look. He was frantic. For someone who got burned so often, so must have some!

Finally, he pulled out a tube of aloe vera. Takes the heat out of burns, including sunburns. There wasn't much left, just enough to cover the wound on her hand. He would have to stock up on the stuff for her. He squeezed the gel out of the tube and ever so gently rubbed it over the burn, putting on a thick coat of the stuff. All that was going through his mind was that this was all his fault, he had hurt her again. As he worked, finally, a single tear escaped and slid down his face, landing on Trick's wrist. Punk simply pretended it wasn't there, that it never happened. He didn't need her trying to take on all of his problems for him, and he figured she probably would do that too. He wouldn't let her.

After he finished treating the burn, he sighed and picked Trick up again, fearing that she was still faint from the burn. He brought her to the couch and sat her down, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You should probably get some sleep." He looked into her eyes, his hand resting g on her shoulder. "I'll go and get some aloe vera for you. You're going to need to stock up on that stuff. And I'll get some burn ointment and bandages too. Sound good?" His voice was gentle and sweet, still holding hints of the southern drawl here and there, but it was going away, fading like his drunkenness. He didn't want to leave her alone without her consent, but he really needed to get those supplies. He could pull a quickie job on the way to the store for some money, and get everything they needed for the burns.

Trick was hoisted into the air and against Punk's chest. Her breath caught, and before she knew it she was set down on the edge of her bathtub. Punk applied Aloe Vera over her hand, and it felt heavenly. Trick sighed, closing her eyes with relief. "Thank you..." she cooed. When her eyes opened she saw a tear escape the young punk. It landed on her hand, and she frowned. Seeing as he didn't say anything about it, Trick didn't want to embarrass him, so she pretended that she didn't notice. Suddenly she was in the air again, and after a few seconds she was laid down on her cough. Still slightly hazy, she simply watched as he brushed hair out of her face. "You should probably get some sleep. I'll go and get some aloe vera for you. You're going to need to stock up on that stuff. And I'll get some burn ointment and bandages too. Sound good?" The man's tone was soft, but Trick's heart rate still increased. He couldn't go outside, not with Angel out there. Plus... She couldn't bear the thought of being alone again. Not with that bottle so close, at least.

"Don't... Don't go. Please." Trick's eyes went wide; pleading him to stay. She used her good arm to grasp his wrist, pulling him closer to her. "I'm fine, really. It stopped hurting." It was true, Aloe Vera does wonders on all types of burns. Trick assured herself that she could properly patch it up in the morning... In the morning when Angel couldn't be lurking in the shadows.

"Don't leave me alone. I don't want to be alone." She choked. Trick's walls were broken down, and her true shattered self was left to show for it. As much as she wished she could simply put on her hostile front again, Trick was far too gone for that. The alcohol was affecting her, and so was this man in front of her. How do you do this to me? His appearance was certainly her type, and his accent made him even more appealing to her. But something about him... Maybe it was because he's broken too. Trick wanted to fix him, since she was unable to fix herself. Her hand reached out to his face, and her thumb stroked just under the eye where a single tear had escaped.

"Please..." Trick whimpered under him. Her eyes went back and forth between his searchingly. Was there hope of him staying?

I need you to be where you're safe... With me.

Punks eyes softened at the girl's pleas and he nodded his head slightly. "I'll stay here with you, darlin'. Don't worry, I won't leave you." He gently stroked the girl's hair and kissed her forehead. He wanted to ease he fears, he wanted to protect her. Punk moved his hand to the one that was clasped around his wrist, and he gently eased it off. He held the hand in his own for a moment, looking into Trick's eyes kindly. What was it about this girl that got him to open up like this, to be kind? He had no idea, but all he knew was that he liked this girl. He would work hard to keep her as a friend, he knew that much already.

After a few seconds more, Punk stood and carried Trick back to the bed, and helped her to climb up. "You really need to get some sleep." He said to her, seeing that by now it was after midnight. He climbed up into the bed with her. "Scootch over." He said to her, then he laid himself down next to her. Punk slid his arm under Trick's head, almost like a pillow. "If I start spooning you in my sleep, feel free to hit me, 'Kay?" He said with a small chuckle. He had a tendancy to be a cuddly sleeper, but it hadn't been a real issue until now. Punk respectively put his other arm on his side and draped it down his own stomach, not wanting to force her into an embrace she didn't want.

"Night." Punk mumbled before he closed his eyes, realizing how exhausted he was. His breathing became deep and even, a tiny snore coming from him. His face relaxed completely along with his body, as he slept. After a few moments, Punk's arm automatically pulled Trick against his chest and held her close as his body curled slightly around her's, almost like a child sleeping with a giant stuffed animal. His forehead was against her own as he slept, keeping her close to him.

Trick's entire body relaxed when Punk said that he would stay with her. She let out a quiet sigh, opening her eyes to see him kissing her forehead. Though she understood it was meant to be a sweet and comforting gesture, Trick couldn't keep her eyes off of his lips, his jaw, his collarbone... And having him in such close proximity wasn't helping. Why does he have to be so goddamn attractive? Once again she was hoisted into the air, this time being placed at her bed. Sluggishly making her way up the ladder, she contemplated his words. "You really need to get some sleep" True, fatigue should be sweeping over her. And that would most likely be the case anywhere... Except for when she was with him. A new found energy sparked inside of her that only became more excited when he laid next to her. "If I start spooning you in my sleep, feel free to hit me, 'Kay?" Right. He expected a drunken prostitute to refuse an advance on her in a bed?

Punk's arm shifted under her, and Trick could only observe in silence when he mumbled a "Night" to her. His eyes closed and his breathing eased as the girl before him watched. Eventually he pulled her against him, and her breath caught in her chest. Punk's forehead pressed against her... So close... Her eyes softened as they followed along his face; from piercing to piercing, hard line to hard line. He really was handsome, Trick couldn't deny it. After what seemed like hours (but was only a few minutes), she assured herself that he was asleep. She slid her leg between his; tangling their legs together and bringing them even closer than they had been before. The man remained fast asleep, and her eyes trailed down to his lips. They were mere centimeters away from her. Trick, you barely know him. Like that's ever stopped you before. But that's work. This is different. Does it have to be? Why can't you? I don't want to upset him... He's sound asleep. Goddammit.

Trick nestled herself into his embrace, and smiled as his body instinctively pulled her tighter against him. She lifted one hand tenderly to his face, stroking the soft skin with her fingertips. His eyes might have fluttered, but she wasn't sure. Trick convinced herself that it was just her mind messing with her. Finally mustering up her courage, Trick tilted her head towards his. Her eyes slowly shut, and she used his breath against her as a guide. Her lips lightly brushed his, and electricity shot through her. Every fiber of her being wanted to continue; to push against him and pull him into her arms. But she couldn't risk that. After a few seconds her lips left just as lightly as they had met his, and she sank her head back over his arm.

Trick just barely parted her eyelids to take one last glance at his face before she decided it would be best to sleep. If she had woken him, she had to pretend that she was asleep the entire time. Her eyes shut gracefully, and she settled into a deep sleep; her hand still gently cupping his face.

~~

Angel had been searching for Trick all night. Where the fuck is she? She knew I would be around tonight. The prized fighter of the Saints growled under his breath, his eyes scanning the area. After hours of prowling, he finally gave up. A dark shoe made contact with a metal trash container, sending it flying across the alley. A small alley cat darted from one shadow into the next, hissing as it went.

"You should know better than to hide from me, you bitch." Angel growled, and went through thousands of different ways he would get back at her.

You thought you had it coming before..

Punks dreams were filled with tender kisses and warm embraces. It wasn't an unusual dream for him, what was weird was that it was all with Trick. Usually these dreams had some mystery woman with a face he couldn't make out even if he tried. But the dream was still pleasant, and he enjoyed it very much. It was nice to get away from the nightmares or the blank, drug-induced blank sleep. He felt genuinely warm and happy inside as he dreamed all of this. He swore, the hand on his cheek felt so real. And the brush of her lips against his, once it seemed like it was real, like he could taste it. But this was simply a dream. It couldn't be real.

By the time tthat Punk had woken up, it was close to noon time. He slowly opened his eyes to see Trick's face centimeters from his own, and her hand warm on his cheek. He felt her leg entangled with his own, and he felt a small smile spread across his face. This was the first time in a long time that he had woken up happy, and stayed happy after he opened his eyes. One of his hands moved to the girl's side, gently resting there as his thumb rubbed circles on the side. He stared at her face, absorbing every detail. There was no mistaking it. This was the girl that had visited his dreams last night. The thought made him smile even wider, and he leaned in and kissed her cheek ever so softly, like a butterfly landing on her skin for a moment and then taking off again.

Punk slid his arm back around her and pulled her closer, his face against her collarbone, the top of his head just under her chin. In truth, he could stay like this forever. But once Trick woke up, they would have to start moving around a bit. But he didn't wake her. He wanted her to haven as much sleep as her body said she needed.

Angel approached Trick slowly-almost tauntingly. Trick did her best to hide her fear, but she knew the battle for her composure was lost. Trick backed away slowly, tripping over something unseen and landing on her back. Her hands flew around the dark space, searching for something anything she could use to protect herself. To the girl's display, her hands found nothing.
"Stay back, Angel. Stay away from me!"

A murmur escaped from Trick. Her eyes were clenched, and she turned slightly. As Punk's hand caressed her side, Trick froze.

Angel was suddenly upon her. He was holding her down on the ground, pressing his disgusting body against hers.

Punk held the girl against his body, resting his head over her collarbone.

Angel's face was over her neck, biting her roughly. Trick fought back, trying to do anything to get him off of her. She felt like she was suffocating. Her cries for help turned into pitiful sobs. Trick kicked and thrashed around her in desperation, but it was no use. Angel was stronger than her, he always was.
"Hold still, bitch. You're not worth enough. You think you deserve better? You don't. You're just a whore. That's all you ever were, and you will die that way." Angel taunted, slamming her shoulders firmly against the ground.
"If you continue struggling, I'll give you another nasty mark to remember me by. I'm sure you haven't forgotten the last one? Actually, I believe you have. If you really remembered, you wouldn't be fighting back right now. You think you know what I can do. I plan on showing you again, until you learn your goddamn place." Overcome with fear, Trick attempted to shove her upper body into an upright position.

The girl, now sweating and still frantic, shot straight up in the bed, moving Punk roughly. Upon seeing a figure by her side Trick jumped to the other side of the bed, leaning her back against the wall. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her eyes shot around the area. Her hands grazed the areas where Angel had been upon her. Though there was no one there, her test still felt tight and restrained. Trick could still feel Angel's body upon her... Only after a few moments of panic did Trick finally rest her eyes back on the man before her. Her breath caught, and she froze. "A... Dream?" She choked. Her legs folded against her chest, her arms wrapping tightly around them in a strong embrace. Emotions racketed through her, and Trick's head dropped in between her knees. She rocked slightly, breathing loudly and erratically.

Punk let out a surprised sound when Trick suddenly sat up, pushing him off of her. He had felt that she began sweating, but he figured that she had just gotten hot. He had tried just taking the blankets off of her to see if it would help. But looking at the look of pure terror on her face now, he could tell that the sweat was from fear. When she saw him and moved.quickly away, Punk's face held a look of anguish. He had finally let down his walls and now this girl was afraid of him. Why? Did she not remember anything last night? Had she gotten too drunk? Punk didn't know, but he felt a pang of pain in his chest from emotions, then the physical pain of his wound came and reared its ugly head. Punk's face drained of all color as he attempted to cope with the pain that suddenly racked his body.

"Hey, hey..." Punk's voice was still quiet and rough with sleep and a bit of pain. "Don't worry. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you. Do... do you still remember me?" Punk looked pleadingly at the girl across the bed from him, and he yearned to have her back in his arms. But he knew that after nightmares that bad, sometimes people didn't want to be touched. He could understand that much at least. He wanted to know what exactly could have scared this girl that badly. She had been so strong before, and now she was terrified. He knew that anything that she could be afraid of, he should fear as well. But he wasn't about to ask her to recount the tale, not while she was still so upset.

Punk sighed and climbed out of the bed. He had to get somewhat cleaned up so that he could go and get her more aloe vera and bandages. He remembered that she needed it. And while he was out, he would have to get some pain killers too. His chest felt like it was on fire. He went to the living room where he had left his pants last night. They were still blood spattered and had other not-so-appealing bodily fluids on them, but they were better than going out in boxers. So, he slid the pants on. Maybe he'd run by his place and sell some of his many drugs he had stashed there for some cash. He didn't have any on him, after he had secretly given Trick all of his money and the ring. He wondered in the back of his mind if she would ever even find it. He hoped that she would. It was the least that he could do for her after everything he had done.

"I should probably go get you that aloe vera now." He called to her, then waited to see if there were any objections to him going now. He doubted it, but who knew? People could surprise you.

Anguish and emotional pain flashed across Punk's face. Trick's heart tightened at the realization that she had caused the hurt, and caused the flash of emotions. "Wait-" She choked, her voice barely traveling a few feet from her place against the wall. "Don't worry. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you. Do... do you still remember me?" Trick nodded. How could she not remember that face? His broad shoulders, his lip ring and the antics that accompanied them, his comforting and stern voice... No, she definitely remembered him. Trick's arm extended towards the other end of the bed, grasping the air in between herself and the man who had laid with her.

"W-... Wait-" A soft voice pleaded. She couldn't bear being alone. Not after last night, not after her dream, not ever. What are you doing?! Stop begging. You sound pathetic. I don't want him to leave, though! What if Angel comes? You'll deal with him accordingly. I won't have you begging like some abused little girl. He could be just like Angel. Do you really want to get yourself caught up in that? I suppose not...

Trick's voice faded away, and her hand dropped back to her side. "Aloe Vera.. Right. I would appreciate that." She nodded once, but then cleared her throat again. "You don't have to go yet. You might as well stay and eat some breakfast before you go. I'm pretty skilled in cooking certain items. My egg sandwiches are my forte." Trick's eyes avoided Punk's, and she shrugged, mumbling to herself.

"Or you could go, it's whatever you want to do." Trick waved him off with her arms and palms, letting him make his own choice of action.

~~

Angel growled to himself as the sun rose on his face. He opened the shades of his room, his blood shot eyes squinting against the light. Another fucking day. Time to find this bitch. His intentions and plans for the day had been determined the night before when Trick slipped under his know. He had expected to visit her, to discuss her situation and weekly wages.

"Trick, you will not stay away from me for long." Angel wasn't stupid. He was adequately skilled in critical thinking. She has to come outside sometimes. I need something to convince her to come here... Perhaps upping her debt? Not bad. She'll be expecting that. You need a stronger idea than just that. Angel reached his glass counter and reached under it for a bottle. Grasping the glass container of whiskey in his hand, he lifted the bottle to his lips.

You can't hide from me for long... Trick.

Punk didn't particularly want to go, but he knew it would never get done if he didn't. He had to do this, it was the least he could do for someone who had put up with all of his bullshit last night. "I'll be back, I promise." He said to Trick, then turned and walked out the door. He would need to gather up a bit of money. Since it was daylight, that meant he'd be selling his drugs in some back alley or a bar. Great. No more high for Punk for a while. Regardless, Punk made his way over to his apartment.

He got there and found his stash of drugs and shoved the packet of pills and the baggie of some smokeable substance in his pocket. This should bring in enough for the stuff he needed. The aloe vera and bandages were at the top of his list. Anything else he saw would have to wait, even if it was food. He had eaten last night, but he was still starving. One meal after so long of not eating wouldn't just solve all your problems. It took a lot more than that. He would just have to either wait, or die in the process of waiting.

Punk stepped out of his apartment and onto the streets, searching a shady area where he could sell his drugs. Really, he just wanted to take all of it right now so no one could take it from him. But he needed the money. He'd get more drugs from Angel at some other point, even though he knew that he would charge him some insane amount of money that he knew he didn't have and it would make his debt grow. It didn't matter to him anymore. He just wanted to escape from it all, all of the pain. He couldn't get past all of the insults in his mind, all of the violations and insecurities that came with his job.

Eventually, Punk found himself a buyer and got a small amount of cash into his filthy pants. He doubted he could get anything more than a tube of aloe vera with it though. When he got into the store, he found out that he was right. The economy really was bad. Even these small things were expensive as fuck. Hopefully this will stave her off for now. Punk thought to himself as he checked out. He was surprised no one had thrown him out for not having a shirt. Maybe it was because of the bandage. Or maybe it was because no one really cared around here. Punk made his way out of the store before anyone could protest though. He needed to get back to Trick's house. He was starting to get anxious about leaving her alone. The thought made his steps quicken as he walked down the street.

Trick played with her sweatpants absentmindedly, her eyes constantly darting to the door and the front window. Her breaths were ragged and uneven, and she was sweating profusely. I need a drink. Grabbing herself a quick piece of bread to prevent any illness, Trick poured herself a glass of Smirnoff. There wasn't much left, but she'd be fine. The burn in her throat distracted her from the pain in her hand, and from her fear of Angel. She kept herself busy by tidying up her apartment and obsessively folding her clothing. Finally, she decided to head outside for a cigarette.

~~~~~~

Angel threw on some clothes and opened his door. He took the remnants of the bottle down in one gulp, smashing the glass against the ground without looking back. He knew Trick's usual errands and where she would go to fulfill them, so he figured he'd start there. Squinting against the daylight, Angel made his way to a convenient store just a bit away from Trick's apartment. A strung-out man walked through the isle beside him; going in between different burn treatment products. Angel smirked, poor bastard. Whoever the man was getting it for must be important, the young punk had a look of determination. The gang member stopped in his tracks. Wait a minute... Is that..? After doing a double-take, Angel confirmed his suspicion; it was in fact Punk. Where is he going at this time with stuff for burns? And why is he covered in bandages? Angel decided to follow him and find out. Just as he was gaining on the battered man, Punk picked up speed. What the hell is this bastard doing? Angel's subconscious informed him that he had been here before. In fact, he was heading towards Trick's apartment...

"Punk, right? Why don't you bring your sweet ass back over here?"

~~~~~~

Trick finished her second cigarette. Her hands were shaking, but she was doing her best to compose herself. She couldn't allow herself to appear weak in front of anyone, especially Punk. Any sort of shakey antic would should that weakness.... Goddamnit Trick, calm down. Lighting another Camel Blue, the girl took a deep inhale. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she leaned against the wall of her apartment, sinking down to the macadam of the alley. A cat scampered by, or at least, that's what she thought it was. For all Trick knew it could have been a large rodent. She wasn't going to bother turning her head and finding out, however. Trick eventually moved her head towards the direction where Punk left and she squinted. She could make out a figure and then....

Her heart dropped. There was another man approaching. He was going to hurt Punk. She had to-The man stopped a few feet behind him. He called after Punk, and though he was a good distance away, Trick recognized the voice immediately. She froze, and eventually her cigarette went out. Sliding back on her hands and knees, she quickly made her way into another side alley by some garbage cans. The terrified girl made herself as small as she could against the wall, holding her hand over her mouth and attempting to control her breathing.

Punk heard a familiar voice call for him as he was walking down the street. An icy fear pierced through his veins and he slowly turned to face Angel with a small and frightened smile on his face. "Hey Angel. Did you need something?" A thousand thoughts were running through his head. The top one being that he was damaged goods. Maybe Angel was stopping him because he had seen that and he was gonna finish him off now, since he wasn't going to make him much money all torn up the way that he was. Maybe if he told him it was the rival gang that did this to him, he'd get a little sympathy, or Angel's anger would at least directed to them instead of Punk.

But then his thoughts widened to Trick. What would happen to her? He had interrupted her shift. He didn't think she had gotten any work done at all. What would Angel do when he found out? And what would he do to both of them if he knew how Punk was starting to feel about Trick? He knew the was Angel rolled. He would see Trick as a possession, something that was his. Punk knew that she didn't deserve to be treated that way, but there was nothing he could do. She probably didn't even like him; everything last night was probably just a drunken thing for her. But what had happened last night that he was seeing as so special between them? Nothing really. Maybe it was all just in his head.

That thought broke his heart. Maybe it was in his head and she felt none of what he had felt. Maybe she even thought that he was pathetic. That comment might hurt the most coming from her. How had he let someone he had just met come so close to him already? He knew that in this world, you trust no one. Trust was something that got you killed. Yet here he was, doing just that. Putting his already shattered heart on the line so that maybe she could bring him happiness. But that wouldn't happen, because it was all in his head. And that thought killed him inside.