Summary: When Eric saves a young girl named Mary, he instantly adores her every way of life until he watches the way she lives. What happens when he takes her away?

Note: ^_^

The crickets chirped in their traditional fashion all around Mary and were only drowned out when a car would rush by. The streets were shining in their wet state and the mist of rain continued to tumble from the thick darkness of the sky. The dim light of the nearest street lamp provided enough vision for those eyes, so intense and alert in their own greenish goodness to lock upon her occupation. She dug at the grip tape of her skateboard, peeling and picking at it with a single fingernail, painted in dollar-store quality polish. Her free hand would tug down at the hem of her red hand-me down jacket every so often as the wind seemed intent of ruffling her rags and clothing. Blonde hair, so soft and silken remained obediently in a ponytail while the rest of it was done it quick braids. She wore many necklaces, which wrangled each other in the breeze. She twisted her lips into a frown, eyes shifting a bit to swallow the surrounding buildings. Many were vacant and condemned and a few had burnt down. The alleyway just across the street was jammed with homeless individuals, all huddled around burning garbage bins and half-done shacks made of cardboard and material. She glanced to her right where a canine was busy sniffing a snack from a garbage disposal and to her left; a group of boy's were smoking their no-so-secret weed. She could smell it at her location and her nose twitched a bit. She felt her eyes water with the sensation and she abandoned the business of peeling her grip tape. After a few moments of hesitation, she stood up and propped the skateboard beneath her arm, resting it against her waist as she slid down the sidewalk, hiking her key chain covered backpack up her shoulders a bit. She made no eye contact with the gang that watched her wander and when she did pass a glance, she diverted those green hues to the dank cement sidewalk and scuffed her foot a bit. She wasn't going , that would be knew exactly how the conversation would fair.

She would approach the home, which would be dark and unwelcoming. The bathroom light would be dim and flickering from constant use and the porch light would flick on as she opened the door. Any minor movements would be drowned into the heavy-metal music, which was muffled until fully inside the front door. It would pound in her mind and she would peek around the mantel, checking for any sight of her mother or father. If the coast was clear, she would sneak up the peeling stairs, wincing with every creak. The music would die for a moment before picking up with the next song. While that silent pause thrived, she'd peek at the broken frames on the wall, which held pictures of unknown relatives and an autograph her father had received. Once the music was blaring again, she continued her journey down the hallway and towards her room. Then, like he always did, her father would poke his head out of his bedroom and start the conversation slow.

'Where were you?'

She'd linger on the spot, her figure waiting patiently to slip into her bedroom and close the door.

'I asked you a question.'

Then she'd answer. She always did, even if the answer wasn't the greatest.

'I was at William's house.'

She'd pass quick glance over her shoulder, and she'd wait for the reaction. Then she'd get it.

He'd grab her backpack and drag her from the room. Alcohol would soak from his bones and she'd instantly smell it. He'd slam her against the nearest wall and check in his bedroom, to ensure his lovely wife was asleep. He would then smack her around till he got an answer. If she gave a good answer, he'd simply pass it by and demand another one.

Then, after all of this, she would spend a bit of time in the washroom, attending the minor or sometimes large bruises or cuts on her body. She'd then go to bed, crying herself to sleep. She wanted to die. Was this normal? Yeah, what a lovely way to end a night.

So she did this, and her night, as predicted, went just like planned with only a few changes. Her mother had been awake and had done nothing to stop it. The phone had rung a few times and the music wasn't playing very loud.

Now, she lay in her bedroom. It was empty for the most part. She had the necessary furniture and that was it. Nirvana posters laced her bedroom walls and a bunch of books were piled on her shelf. Yeah, she wasn't in here very often because there was hardly any privacy. Yes, this was her .wasn't it?