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Love Hurts

New York

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a part of Love Hurts, by AmiOfTheRain.

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AmiOfTheRain holds sovereignty over New York, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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New York

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New York is a part of Love Hurts.

5 Characters Here

Johnny Aden Rhodes [0] "A whole lot has happened to me. To tell you the truth. I might not have much longer."
Iris Thaut [0] "My heart can't stop bleeding anymore."
Izzie Vieira [0] "You're my only friend. And I'll kick their asses. All of them, for what they did."
Jimmy Michael Dannika [0] A kid with a grim past and a sad outlook on the future.

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"Get out of my house! You're a disgrace to this family, you free loading, selfish, unthankful son of a-"
"Shut up and don't ever yell at me!"
"Don't tell me what to do, Jimmy, this is MY house, you're MY son!"
"I'm not your son and I never was! I hate you with every fiber of my existence! I never asked to be in "your" house!"
"Then leave!"
"I fucking will! And I'm not coming back this time!"

Jimmy slammed the door to his foster parents house and stormed down the steps on the porch. He nearly sprinted out into the street, and he didn't stop, he kept running and running for nearly four minutes before coming to a stop. Hunched over with his hands on his knees gasping for air, he looked over his shoulder, to confirm nobody was following him. "Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath as he gasped for air. This happened every month. Sooner or later his foster father come looking for him, but Jimmy didn't want to be found. He hated that man. His words rang true, every fiber of his existence loathed the man who claimed Jimmy as his foster son. Nevertheless, eventually Jimmy would find himself back at home, seeking the love and comfort of his foster mother, the only mother he had ever truly had.

He sat down on a metal bench nearby. Aimlessly he gazed infront of him, on the brink of tears, thinking about how terrible his life had gotten. Silently he blamed himself for all of it, although he knew that it wasn't his fault- he just needed to place the blame, it gave him a small sense of comfort. He wished he had gotten a different foster home. Every day he fought with his foster dad, and at least once a month this reoccuring event happened. They would start arguing. Then they would start shouting. Then screaming. Then hitting. Then Jimmy would run away. This time they hadn't exchanged blows, his foster dad hadn't been as drunk as usual, but nevertheless, he had been drunk enough to fight.

He buried his face within his hands and began to sob gently. He needed to vent his emotions. His anger, his sorrow, his regret, his loneliness. Shortly after, more specifically about fifteen seconds after, he stopped and looked forward once more. Jimmy let out a heavy sigh and cursed loudly. He began to ponder as to where his friends were, he needed somebody right then. It didn't matter who, he needed somebody. Just someone to acknowledge his existence. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to elaborate on what happened, he just wanted someone else's presence nearby. It was an unusual craving, but one that he often experienced.. It didn't matter who it was, so long as it was someone he knew, and it didn't matter what they were doing, so long as they were nearby. It comforted him. He used to have someone who never failed to comfort him...

No. He wouldn't allow himself to think of her again. Never again. The bitch played sick twisted games with his heart then left him outright. Over a godforsaken speaker? Not even in person! Suddenly he clenched his fists as hard as he could, his knuckles quickly turning white. She left him at the football game.. over the intercom.. she didn't even acknowledge his existence afterwords.. How could he have been so stupid? Did he seriously think she loved him? He wouldn't allow himself that intolerable stupidity again. Never again would he trust the wench, much less think about her. He was done with the vapid bitch. Jimmy relaxed his fists, the color returning to his knuckles. Once more, he sighed. He just wanted somebody. Somebody he could trust.

It was early morning when all of this took place, mind you.. More specifically, early SCHOOL morning. Jimmy had school in 30 minutes. It was an hour long walk from here, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask for a ride from his father. He wasn't taking the bus, either; he didn't want to go anywhere near his house. He guessed he'd just show up late, as usual. What's worse is he still had more "after school group for depression".. he had to see his 'best friend'. Read that cynically, cause that's how it's supposed to sound. He didn't quite feel as fondly for his best friend anymore, but then again, he didn't feel quite fondly for anybody. It wasn't a personal thing, it was just hatred looking for a way to escape.

Jimmy stood up and began to walk in the direction of the school. He sighed once more, for the final time, and hoped he didn't get an after school detention for being late again... the only problem was, it was the 14th. The worse fucking day of his life.

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"Torture provokes to divorce sanity...horror, mummifies victims who plead..."

A single figure stood leaning against the granite wall of the old abandoned gym located some distance from the main areas of the school; the cigarette held loosely between her dry, chapped lips bobbed up and down slightly as she murmured along the lyrics of Suffocation's Bind Torture Kill. The old gymnasium wing was no longer in use, after a new one had been built far closer to the campus hub--most likely because of all the students who were late due to classes on account of having to walk the distance every day--but for whatever reason, maybe because of money, they'd never gotten around to actually tearing down the old building. And so it now stood, like the proud, aloof ruins of an ancient civilisation, slowly rotting and decaying.

"You judge my world, your views have been mistaken...the sickness stems, deeper than it seems..."

And on any given day during the first break and the lunch break, sometimes even before and after school, one could find Isabella Moraes Vieira prowling around the yellowing concrete structure, like a phantom haunting its old place of residence, scaring off those who would disturb its resting place. The fact that few people came around here was rather congruent with the desires of the girl who refused to be known by any name but Izzie to be left utterly alone by everyone and everything, so she could come here, smoke, listen to music, drink, do whatever the hell she wanted, really, without being bothered. Not that most people really saw fit to bother her anyway. Didn't seem there was much desire amongst the student body to approach (and then subsequently by soundly rebuffed by) a hostile, bitter former runaway. Izzie figured that was for the better. Both for herself and for everyone else. The only person who really came around here was Iris, and that was only because Iris was the only friend Izzie had in this entire goddamn hellhole. Only friend she needed. And even then it was all Izzie could do to keep from constantly worrying about losing Iris as well....all she could do to restrain herself from dwelling on the possibility that this friendship was only going to end up like every other one...

"Lunacy dictates my being, enslaved until my demise surrenders me...until then I must feed the demons--fuel my rage, and commence to haunting you..."

Izzie felt the array of spikes that lined the back of her leather jacket, squared around the beloved Ace of Spades patch that sat squarely in the middle, against the wall of the gym; the sharply pointed metal sank into the small, loose crevices collected in the granite surface, fitting in like a jigsaw puzzle...or a more appropriate analogy that she had not the patience and will to think up right now. A gentle breeze rolled through the school fields and up into the abandoned gym wing, causing the loose clumps of hair drifting at the sides of her head to sway lightly; the rest of it hung down to the centre of her back in a shabbily-tied ponytail. Wonder if it'll rain soon, she pondered as she watched clouds gather overhead in the cold morning sky. Hopefully it would. Rain--it brought about with it a moment of clarity, a moment of peace in the sound of the water tapping against the leather and the feeling of the rain drenching her hair. She hated how downright cliché it sounded to say that she 'liked' rain, but that was the way it was.

"I'm damned to be disposed in perpetual fire--dismantled youth, forced and shaped my being..."

Her backpack was laid out besides her on the ground; on top of it, a notebook, opened to a sheet of paper upon which one could find writing--her writing. Lyrics, to be exact--well, she preferred to think of them as lyrics. Poetry just sounded so...so weak. So effeminate. So delicate. But until they were put to an actual song (and that'd be the fuckin' day)...they kinda were poetry, much as she hated the word. The seventeen year old delinquent swept down to retrieve the notebook, deciding to read over her 'poem' once more, see if she could finally figure what it was about it that kept nagging at her.

Your heartless empathy just doesn't stop
You've lost it all but there's always more to give
I'm bursting at the seams, but for you
I'm always there to force more out of myself
To accept whatever you'll give when find your way back again

It made you bleed and open your eyes
And I didn't know until my hands were dyed crimson
It made you realise your own self-destruction
And I didn't know it was reality that made you blind

Our worlds just aren't compatible, but you won't see
You're an empty vessel but there's always more to lose
There are still things I'll never understand, but for you
I'm always there to pretend I know what it means
To have your heart suffocated by the world

It made you dizzy with pain when the sun came out
And I didn't know until you fell into my arms
It made you realise this place wasn't made for you
And I didn't know it was reality that killed your soul

It made you cling to me tighter than death
And even then that wasn't enough
And I never realised I'd never seen your eyes
'til they were staring lifelessly up to the stars.


Izzie's brow furrowed, and her nose seemed to scrunch up slightly in distaste. There was still just...something about it. She couldn't pinpoint it, but every time she read over it...it brought to mind things she never realised she'd been thinking of when she'd written it. Well, maybe that's the whole point of poetry, she thought sardonically, tacking on a posh, professor-ly little accent as she mused to herself. To 'bring out the writer's inner feelings and address that which they never realised was in their soul'...what a joke. She tossed the notebook down; it fell back upon her backpack with a small slapping noise, and Izzie reached up to retrieve the cigarette from her mouth, blowing out a steady stream of pale, thin smoke through her lips.

And she stood there, waiting, deciding there was little she had to do if and until Iris arrived. It was seven thirty, half an hour to the beginning of school (at least, if Izzie felt compelled to go to class), and the Brazilian teenager had been here for nearly an hour. Yes, since six-thirty--while the other kids were safe in their beds sleeping tight. Izzie had gotten no sleep last night: she rarely did. And at some point, in the early hours of the morning, having spent the night lying there listening to music, she decided--to hell with it. She'd gotten out of bed, gotten dressed with all the usual metal paraphernalia--bullet belt, chains, spikes, the whole menagerie--grabbed her music player, her backpack, her notebook, and headed for school. Wasn't much for her to do in the lonely, dingy little apartment that she alone called home, especially not in the morning, so she merely came here and waited out the early hours of the morning in the cool, cloudy weather of the mornings. She loved it--the slight dampness of the air and of the grass in the fields stretching out before her, the cool air against the rough, dark skin of her face, the slight breeze rolling into the fields, and nobody she hated (read: nearly everyone) to ruin it.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for Iris to arrive. And hopefully she would, soon...Izzie found herself desiring the company of the one person she cherished and enjoyed, but having never had a mind for anniversaries and their significance, it never occurred to her what this day was, and what it meant to her sole friend.

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Slow breaths could be heard through out the darkness of the room, sound of someone sleeping in a comfortable bed. Still dreaming a horrifying dream, but it didn't seem like a horrifying dream to the person sleeping in the comfortable bed, of this dark room. A teenage boy sat up in his comfortable bed and looked quickly around, to see where he was, and sighed in relief.

Soft pale feet finally got up from laying down there and placed their selves on the hard wooden floor of the dark room. They helped the boy walk towards the light switch of the dark room. The weird thing about the boy finding the light switch was that he didn't have to feel around for it on the wall, he knew exactly where it was, even if the boy was in his lazy, sleepy state.

As he turned on the light, he kept his eyes closed, for the light had burned his eyes many times before. Blue-green eyes opened slowly, trying to adjust to the new light setting of the room. The identical feet began to drag them selves towards the closet, and stopped a few inches away from the doubled doorway of the closet. The boys hand was launching towards the black painted door handle to the black painted door. As it took it's final landing, his hand twisted the handle and he opened the door slowly, not ready for the day, like he wasn't any other day. But this day, it was just as horrible.

John picked out his clothes and laid them on his comfortable bed,"Am I really ready for this lonely day?" Maybe not? The boy said and thought the answer to him self. Walking towards the bathroom to fix his hair and put his piercings on, he sighed to himself as no one came bursting through his door, telling him to hurry up to eat breakfast. He knew that would not be happening, like it used to.

He didn't miss the old days like he used to, he would just rather be left alone, than having someone tell him what to do. After he was done in the bathroom, he walked out and put his clothes on. Grabbing his backpack o that it wouldn't hang off the door to leave his room. He grabbed his knife and put it carefully in his pocket, not wanting to cut his hand or anything. Leaving the room John walked down the stairs carefully not wanting to wake his father.

Oh, how he hated his father, even if that's the only person he has that is family, he isn't quite fond of him. He blamed him for the death of HIS own mother, that was taken away from a drunk driver, he heard that the drunk driver didn't make it, and he was happy he didn't. He walked down the stairs and out the door, grabbing his skateboard that was lying down on the green colored wall. Ridding it to school, he would just carry his skate board all day to everyone of his classes, and didn't care what people say about. It wasn't any of their business anyways.

Listening to music, he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, well number one, he didn't give a damn, and number two, people should learn how to move out the way.

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Iris Thaut

Iris whimpered in her bed as light began to shine inside her dark room. Today, was Iris's least favorite days of all time. Why did she even bother to get up anymore now that she was looked down by everyone? Scratch that, she ment almost everyone. Iris knew, her one true friend, would never look down on her. 

Izzie would never look down on Iris for who she was and what she had become. Izzie as the only reason Iris was still alive for a matter of fact. Iris yawned as she looked over to her clock. She had only thirty minutes before school started, thirty minutes before having to pass the football team and cheerleaders on her way to see Izzie. Iris slowly stretched as she got up and out of bed in her skeletion top and pants. 

As Iris got out of bed, she began to walk over to her dresser drawer. The new thought of what to wear began to slowly form in Iris's head as she dug through her drawer for a grey tank-top and opening a new drawer with black jeans and a skull belt. Throwing those items onto her bed, the pale teenage girl began to strip out of her clothes and into her outfit for school. Now, all Iris needed for her outfit was her black jacket and her necklace. Her sneakers didn't really matter to her at this moment, so she figured what ever she found first would be her finished look.

She groaned as she began to fix her bed head in her dark bathroom. Red walls until the ceiling which was black, the floor was a honey color type of wood. Of course, she had no say in the flooring or furnish in the bathroom, only the ceiling and walls. Her parents had decided that due to the fact they didn't think she'd be spending much of her life in the bathroom, which was completely true. Iris glared at her bathroom door as she heard a loud, annoying voice through it, no doubt her sister.

"Iris! You okay right? No knife?" Mini, Iris's little sister asked full of concern for her older sister. 

"Yeah, no knife. Just fixing my hair Mini." Iris said with a sigh, finally fixing her hair in the normal way she had it now a days. Two sections of her pitch black hair covered her shoulders and the rest looking a pinch puffy. Iris calmly put her necklace around her neck as she left her bathroom, her shoulder roughly brushing past Mini's as she walked down stairs with her black and white stripped socks. She sat down calmly onto a chair and put them only, getting up quickly and putting her black converse. Now the only thing left for Iris to get was her Skeleton Jack messager bag that seemed to be missing.

Iris let out a annoyed hiss as she strictly remembered leaving her bag by the door. Sadly, she knew that her sister probably went through it on her again. Iris could fairly understand that though, since she is a cutter. Opening the closet and bending down as she went through the coats and shoes, she finally found her bag. Looking inside it, Iris was surprised that nothing was moved.

Iris guessed that her parents pretty much moved it instead of Mini. So with a sigh, Iris exited her house quickly and pulled out her phone to text Izzie.

To:Izzie
From:Iris
Yo, Izzie, I'm going to be running late. I also might be even later if I get distracted like yesterday...

Iris stared at her text, only before hitting send. Iris sighed as she remembered how bady she was distracted. She ended up following a baby fox, or kit, due to how far it was from a forest. She ended up missing a few of her classes due to having to give it back to the zoo though, even though she wanted to keep it. Iris tilted her head to the left as she watched a boy on a skate board go right past her.

She just rubbed the back of her neck at the thought of remembering him from somewhere, though she wasn't sure where. Of course, Iris kept walking before she came across another older boy on a bench, who seemed to be crying. "...You seem familer... Did I know you last year?" Iris mumbled as she sat down next to him on the bench, pulling her knees up to rest her head in them as she looked over to him with a frown.

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Time passed, and the cigarette still held in Izzie's mouth dwindled away to nothing. She reached up to retrieve the spent butt of the cigarette, tossing it aside to the ground before immediately reaching into one of the inside pockets of her jacket for another. She withdrew it slowly, with a calmness and clarity that she simply did not seem to possess otherwise--any other student in that shithole of a school seeing her now would be taken aback by the almost mantra-like grace with which she slid the pencil-thin between her dark, razor-sharp lips, struck the match, and, cupping it with one hand, brought it to light the tip of the cigarette before waving the small flame out and tossing it aside.

The music player, set to simply randomly go through the songs uploaded to it, had switched to Death's Scream Bloody Gore, thundering into her head at unhealthy volume. A smirk alit upon the young woman's features. For all her love of Death and Chuck Schuldiner, she could not bring herself to sing his earlier lyrics along with the song like she could with his later work. Because frankly, she could really feel and be moved by the words when she sang lines like "Passion is a poison laced with pleasure bitter sweet". Not so much when the line in question was "Hanging your mangled corpse for display, my revenge was fulfilled upon this day". But that was what the evolution of a writer was all about, wasn't it? Hell, Izzie could remember when she'd first started out writing her own lyrics.

Recalling some particular examples from that time brought a shudder to her spine. Yeah, best not to think of that.

The sensation of something vibrating in her pocket brought her attention back to reality, and Izzie reached her hand into the pocket of her jeans to find the screen of her old cell phone emblazoned with a text message icon--below it, the word 'Iris'. Izzie'd never put much stock in texting, preferring the more straightforward tactic of just calling whoever you were texting. Which may have had something to do with the fact that texting with the ancient specimen she'd been provided with was a more or less insurmountable task on par with scaling Mount Everest naked. Clumsily she flipped the phone open, and read across the message. Yo, Izzie, I'm going to be running late. I might be even later if I get distracted like yesterday...

That brought a smirk to Izzie's stony, cold features. Of course. Iris was prone to finding some little animal on its own somewhere, forget completely about where she was going, and wind up spending the rest of the day finding a zoo to take care of the damn thing. Izzie'd never understood that. But there were many things about Iris Izzie just didn't get--just like there were, even if Izzie didn't realise it, many things about the Brazilian delinquent that Iris didn't really understand.

Well, even if Iris skipped half her classes in heroic pursuit of a new home for a kitten she'd found abandoned somewhere, Izzie'd figured on skipping at least the first class of the day--English. Which she really didn't think she needed, since her English, tinged with an accent though it was, was just fine as far as she was concerned. Hell some mornings she only came to school to come here--her own personal little sanctuary. Far more so than the shitty little apartment she currently called home could ever hope to be. Even if she was completely alone, wallowing in memories of pain and misery, at least here she could find some semblance of comfort. Some taste of the clarity and peace of mind that Izzie knew she would never, in whole, feel.

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The lone teenager looked up at the sky. It was somewhat grey, yet still traces of blue here and there, and beams of sunlight fought through the overhead clouds. There was a certain serenity in the air. That perfect feeling that words cannot even begin to grasp, that calmness, comforting aura that turning weather brought. Still air, chilly, but not uncomfortable, accompanied by an occasional breeze. Not a strong breeze, just a very gentle, comfortable one. This was his absolute favorite type of weather. It made him forget about all of his troubles. He loved the rain that always followed, too, but after that he hated it all. The muddiness. The pounding sunlight. The smell of wet grass. Ugh. All of it. Everything that came after the rain.

"...You seem familiar... Did I know you last year?

Jimmy immediately stopped what he was doing. The first thing that came to mind was to just walk away, avoid all human contact, completely forget about the need for human comfort. But he ignored the urge. He thought about the question being asked before even looking to see who she was. Jimmy knew she was referring to last year's football game. That's all anybody ever reminded him of when they brought up last year. Then, he glanced over at her.

"...no, I don't think so.." he spoke softly. "what's your name?" he inquired. Knowing her name would probably help him remember who she was. There was something about her that brought back memories, although he wasn't sure of what, and he hoped dearly that it wasn't of the 14th. He dreaded that day.