Hello all! This is my first Repo! fic ever and I'm very excited. However, I never thought it would be a story about Amber Sweet. Honestly, I'm not really sure why I wrote this. I'm not a fan of Amber at all, but this popped into my head and refused to leave until I wrote it down. I wrote it half-asleep so I'm not sure if it makes sense, and had no beta so please excuse all mistakes. Please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except a mini-poster signed by the Darrens and Terrance. It makes me very happy.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of my heels against the cracked pavement echoed against the old brick walls as I strutted purposely down the empty alleyway. Only a few feet left until I reached Graverobber's usual haunt. Voices grew louder the closer I got and I recognized the deep tenor of my drug dealer as well as the general mummers of the other Zydrate addicts. Then I heard something else pierce through the low voices, something softer and higher, like a baby bird.

I held out a hand and the two men behind me stopped as I peered around the corner. There he stood, surrounded by a small crowd gasping at the sight of the small vial that glowed bright in the dim light. I found the owner of the strange voice: a small girl who looked barely legal and very far from home cowered in the shadows.

She stood shivering with fright as he told her about Zydrate like the child she was. She stared at him with curiosity and disgust as she dumbly repeated his every word.

I used to look at him like that.

Despite his mocking voice I saw his eyes soften slightly whenever they landed on her. It was barely visible, even for me and I knew how to read him better than anyone on this stupid island.

He used to look at me that way.

It had started legitimately. The Zydrate my surgeons gave me wasn't enough; I was barely numb when they started cutting. I could feel the tug of my skin as it peeled away, hear the squelch of my insides and smell the tang of my blood as it splashed on the floor. It wasn't what I had wanted, what I needed. I just wanted to go to sleep and wake up newer, better and closer to the daughter my father so obviously wanted. Anything to make him stop looking at me like that.

The first time I approached Graverobber, he looked at me like I was his saving grace, and with all the money I gave him, I probably was. We were so much younger then. He kneeled before me with all the awe of a priest kneeling before his goddess incarnate. For a while his eyes would light up whenever I walked into the alley and he would smile at me so genuine it would fill me with such warmth that I almost didn't want the drug, just him.

Then I would remember Luigi's angry words and the disappointment in my father's eyes, and I would spread my legs so he could make the world go away. He had been the only man to make me feel wanted, for as long as it lasted.

Something happened and to this day I don't truly know what. He wouldn't smile for me anymore, rather frown or scowl. He looked at me as though I was something foul that needed scraping off his shoe. And he would smirk like he knew everything about me, even things I didn't know myself. Sometimes I think he does. It made the blood in my veins boil to think a man who spent his time with the dead thought I was below him and so very easy to read.

That's when I started wearing this outfit of leather straps and why I always wore it when I went to him: it made me feel powerful and in control. As did the games we played. I tried to convince him I didn't need him and he tried to convince me he could survive without my money. I teased him with the promise of sex and he teased me with the promise of nothingness.

He still knelt before me, no longer looking at me like a goddess but rather a chore he didn't want to complete. I never looked at his eyes anymore. I hated him and he hated me, but we couldn't live without each other.

A strange sound brought me to the present and I realized the straps hanging by my thighs were shaking. I was shaking. It had been too long since my last hit, I was starting to withdraw. I took a deep breath, stilled my tremors and hooked a finger at my valets. I strode confidently into the dirty alleyway, a smirk on my new lips as I ignored the pain welling inside me from that strange walk through our past.

"Graverobber, Graverobber, sometimes I wonder why I even bother."

Please review! I love it when people favorite my stories (or me, even!) but reviews are so helpful with my writing process. Thanks for reading!