Authors Note: First fic. Mature content anticipated. I'm slow, but have committed myself to finishing this project. Please note this chapter has been revised from it's original.
Disclaimer: I own nothing nor profit from this story. This is just for fun.
Please review and thanks so much for reading!
Tears streamed down Shilo's face as she cradled her dead father in her arms. She wasn't sure however, if those were tears of sadness for the loss of a loved one, or tears of happiness for finally attaining freedom. As she lay her father down in the pool of his blood, she wondered if it was possible to hate and love at the same time?
That night Shilo swore to herself that she would leave the forsaken city and its hallowing memories behind. She didn't get very far.
Crouched in the squalor of a dark, back alleyway, Shilo watched from her hiding place as a couple of GenCops chased a figure into a nearby graveyard. The stench of rotting garbage and waste filled her nostrils, and she shivered from the late evening chill. Vermin scurried amongst the dumpsters, completely ignoring the girl hidden amongst the shadows. She had learned quickly in her first week on the street, compliments of the Largo family, that it was best to avoid confrontation with anybody who lurked around at night.
Not long after Shilo publicly rejected the inheritance of GeneCo, Rottis daughter, Amber Sweet, had quickly taken over the company. Blaming Shilo for the ruin of the Opera and Blind Mag's death, Amber had filed a substantial lawsuit against Shilo, claiming for lost profits and incurred expenses as a result. Judge Zdunich, fresh out of a surgery for a new heart, compliments of GeneCo, had ruled against Shilo, legally demanding that all GeneCo's losses be paid in full. With the only other option being to rot in a Crucifix jail, she sold her parents home and belongings to pay the lawsuit, leaving her with northing.
And so it had come to this. Running and hiding in alleyways from just about everyone in the damned city: GenCops, thugs, desperate Zydrate addicts, and the collectors for the underground organ market. No one could be trusted in this city, and everyone was only out to protect and profit for themselves. Sometimes Shilo let herself wonder if her homely prison with her father had really been so terrible.
No longer protected and isolated, she had at first rushed through this new world with a fierce curiosity. She had expected to marvel at how people loved, and lived, but instead came to find herself disgusted with the drug addicts, perverts, and murderers that she frequently crossed paths with. Life on the streets was hard, and it wasn't long before that innocent looking seventeen year old once plastered across the newspapers had disappeared.
In just one year, that girl was gone. No father, no rules, no home, no fake medications. No regrets. Her natural black hair, now growing back, hung straight to ears in a choppy bob, contrasting with her pale skin. White girlish tunics were a thing of the past; white attracted too much attention and dirt. Instead she wore a snug black dress that cropped halfway down her thigh, and some thigh high fishnet stockings shoplifted from a used clothing store. Topped off with a pair of black knee high boots, she easily blended into the darkness and promiscuity of the city.
After the novelty of freedom wore off, loneliness and depression set in. Sleeping in the grimy streets, scrounging in dumpsters for food, and washing up in derelict bathroom sinks were not the iconic ideas she had for her newfound freedom. Every time she stepped over a mutilated body, compliments of a Repo Man or some other sicko, she thought back to her father. The bastard had lied to her, deceived her, and she hated him for it. So why did grief and love still linger in her heart?
With such thoughts on her mind as she stumbled across a decaying body one night, Shilo wondered when she really could escape the grasp her father still held over her. Gagging at the scent of the maggot infested, decomposing flesh she noticed the torn apart ribcage and the missing lungs. Ahh, this must be the Repo Man's handiwork. Father would be proud. Shilo laughed morbidly to herself as she ignored the stench and proceeded to rummage through the jacket of the corpse. Pocketing a few coins and matches she reached the final pocket and discovered a little glass vial.
"Zydrate comes in a little glass vial."
"A little glass vial?"
"A little glass vial."
Upon seeing a familiar blue glow, Shilo realized this was a vial of Zydrate like the ones the Graverobber had shown her. Pulling a gun from the same pocket of the corpse, she slid the vial into the gun like a battery. Click. Shilo felt her heart pound against her chest as she admired the eerie, blue glow illustrating her surroundings. She could almost hear the vial whispering to her… try me. The words of a drugged Amber Sweet rang through her mind, I can't feel nothing at all. Perhaps Zydrate was the solution to ridding herself of the burdens she felt; love, hate, guilt, shame. Shilo placed the gun against her throat and pulled the trigger.