I was fortunate enough to be approached by the Captain Darko to collaborate on a story - a story that, I believe, will prove to be as darkly beautiful as it is heartbreaking. Here, we find the sin kids scattered to the wind, a few here and a few there, none happy and none knowing just how shattered their family really is. In this chapter, we meet Lupa, Liby, and Lacy - three sisters alone in the world with no one but each other and, perhaps, a faint glimmer of hope.

We're living at the mercy of

The pain and the fear

Until we tell it, forget it

Let it all disappear

- Linkin Park

The sky was white, the ground was black. Weed choked lots bordered uneven sidewalks lumped like frozen waves. Crumbling buildings loomed over empty, litter strewn streets, mausoleums once bustling with life but now home only to rats, spiders, winos, and the insane. Liby Loud shuddered as a cold wind swept over her, on it the smell of earth and decay. She hated walking through the neighborhood between Westside Middle and the group home; it was too easy to imagine the decomposing tenements watching with haunted malevolence as she passed...too easy to feel eyes staring from darkened windows, some with hatred and others with deviant lust. Come here, little girl...I have something for ya. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her stomach clutched sickly. She drew strength, however, from her sisters, Lupa one one side and Lacy on the other, like bodyguards. They were tough, they were strong, they would protect her like they always did.

Lupa's short white hair fluttered lank in the breeze. A contraband cigarette jutted from her mouth, the smoke curling up like a phantom from a grave. Lacy, her pale brown hair in a ponytail, stared straight ahead, a strained look on her freckled face. Liby avoided looking at her eyes, because if she did she knew she would see worry. Lacy was a queen of the springboard bravado. She didn't have to turn her head to see her meek older sisters face to sense the fear. She puts on a confident face. Liby takes heed and lets out a calming sigh. Lupa darts her eyes forward as they make it to the edge of the neighborhood. She smells the air- reeked of O.E and old coney water. Home was nearby, alright. The trio jaywalked across the road to make it on their side. A few steps forward, they reached home-a fortress of barred windows in a field God forgot and left to rot and fester like a raisin in the sun.

It was early afternoon and they were in trouble...big trouble. As in they were just expelled for fighting. Even Liby, who didn't throw a single punch or utter a single cross word - all she did was fall to the floor and cry out.

This wasn't the first time the three of them had been involved in a fight at school. Westside Middle was a rough place - dirty, overcrowded, underfunded, the ancient heating system dormant in winter and the windows nailed shut in the spring. The kids were poor, mean, and didn't care about anything - including themselves. A group of girls a year ahead of Liby delighted in picking on her because she didn't fight back, she bowed her head and scurried away like a mouse. She wasn't strong, she wasn't brave, she wasn't her sisters. Now and then they took it too far, and today was one of those thens. She was in the cafeteria, hurrying to the table she shared with Lacy and Lupa when one of them shoved her from behind. She didn't know exactly what happened after that because she stayed down, but Lacy and Lupa came to her defense...and it got ugly. Teeth were broken, noses busted, tufts of hair yanked out. Even now Liby could see purple knuckle marks on Lupa's wan jaw.

They drew closer to the group home, and Liby felt a slight rush of anxiety as she always did.

Her step faltered, and her sisters passed her.

She didn't want to get in trouble.

She wanted to be good...because when you're good, people like you; they don't yell and hit and call you names.

"Lib?"

Lupa and Lacy were both looking at her.

Liby swallowed, ducked her head, and started walking again, her shoulders tense. Lacy and Lupa fell in on either side of her, Lacy's hand lettering to her back. "Don't worry about it, okay?" Lacy said, an uncharacteristic softness creeping into her voice. "It won't be like it used to be. They don't care anymore."

The group home was three levels of cold storage for a schizophrenic mixed bag of juvenile delinquents, orphans, and the unwanted. When Liby, Lupa, and Lacy were first transferred there a year and a half ago from Ann Arbor, there were thirty residents, girls on the first floor and boys on the second and third. Over time, however, funding dropped and many of the residents were released, some to parents who didn't want them (or couldn't handle them) and others to group homes, residential treatment facilities, and foster homes. Today, there remained only a hand full of kids - those who, like Liby and her sisters, had nowhere else to go.

Lacy led the way through the double doors like always, her shoulders squared and her chest thrust out with a bravado that she didn't feel. Lupa came next, flicking her cigarette away in a spray of embers; she didn't care if the staff saw, and with a few glaring exceptions (Pam on the weekend shift, for one), neither did they. Liby brought up the rear, her breath catching at the dark atmosphere.

Another set of doors led into the dayroom. Ahead was an office, the door standing open and plastered with papers - rules, regulations, and schedules. To the left was a long hallway lined with bedrooms, all of them empty and shuttered now. At the head of the corridor was the 'support room', a doorless, dimly lit space with carpeted walls where you were sent to 'cool down' often after being 'restrained.' Many of the staffers took delight in getting physical with the residents, provoking the more unstable ones into meltdowns so that they had an excuse to twist their arms and slam them against the wall.

After that, they would drag their charge to the support room and leave them for hours on end with no food, water, or bathroom breaks: The faint, astringent odor of urine soaked into the carpet drifted into Lupa's nose. She sneered. She'd been in the support room once and only once: Some girl was trying to muscle Liby out of her snack - Goldfish crackers - and Lupa punched her in the back of the head. She didn't often lose her cool, but when someone messed with one of her sisters, she got a little bothered.

Or a lot bothered.

After all, Liby and Lacy were all she had in the world, and don't you do whatever it takes to protect what's precious to you?

Without being summoned, they all made their way into the office, a cramped, messy space dominated by a rusted metal desk scattered with papers and office supplies. Filing cabinets stood along the walls, a potted plant by the window looking wilted and dead. A fat man with short brown hair and glasses sat in a swivel chair, leaning back and talking into the phone, his shirt ridden up to reveal the pale, fleshy bottom of his gut. The girls all relax a little, even Liby; Dave is cool. Unlike a lot of other staffers, Dave is their friend.

"Yeah," Dave said and glanced at them, "uhhh…" He looked at the clock. "Four?"

Lacy silently wonders if he's talking about them. Lupa doesn't care; she wants another cigarette and Dave would look the other way.

"Alright, thanks." He hung up the phone and turned to them, leaning forward and looking disappointed. "What was that crap at school about?" he asked.

None of them immediately replied; Liby's eyes flicked to her feet in shame and intimidation, Lacy shrugged, and Lupa just stared. Dave looked from one to the other, his brows lifted expectantly. "Anyone?" he asked.

"Some girls were picking on Liby," Lacy said, "so me and Lupa kicked their asses."

That wasn't entirely the truth. Lupa was the one who kicked their asses; Lacy got a few swings in but wound up on her knees with a Hispanic girl yanking her arm behind her back. She liked to think she was the biggest and toughest, but she wasn't; she didn't even hit that hard, a fact Lupa knew from experience. Like most sisters, they fought. And Lupa always won, much to Lacy's chagrin. This meant that Lupa had not one but two sisters to worry about: One who was perpetually picked on and one who'd run her mouth and start a fight she couldn't win.

Sometimes it was almost like she was their mother; looking after them, making sure they had even if she didn't, always worrying about them.

Ha.

Dave bowed his head and shook his slowly. There was a bald patch on top. And...were those liver spots? "Well," he sighed, "I can't blame you, buuuut you're all on D-level and you might very well be shipped outta here."

Liby's head whipped up. Her face was suddenly pale. Lacy recoiled visibly. Lupa felt a slight flutter where her heart should be. As bad as this place was, it was still a whole fucking lot better than everywhere else they'd ever been, and whenever they were moved, there was always the dread chance that they would be split up.

"W-Why?" Lacy asked, a barely concealed tremor in her voice. "We didn't do anything!"

Dave spread his hands. "You've been warned about this. Right now, this place is on the verge of shutting down and they're looking for any excuse to empty beds. Being expelled from school is a pretty big deal." He spoke at length, his head still down. "I was just talking to Matt, he wants to have a meeting with you girls today at four. He doesn't know if he'll be able to make it, but eventually he's gonna come down here, and when he comes, you know you messed up."

Matt Lancaster was the administrator of the group home, a tall, goofy looking asshole with buck teeth who reminded Lupa for some reason of Joel Olsteen. He rarely showed up at the home - he was too 'busy' to make sure conditions were livable, that there weren't roaches and rats in the pantry, that there weren't bugs in every bed and that the windows weren't nailed shut. He always had time to oh so politely ream someone's ass, though; always.

Liby was shaking like a leaf now, and Lupa felt a sudden rush of irrational rage. STOP DOING THAT! Lacy was breathing heavily through her nose and looking rapidly around the room, which meant she was close to tears. Lupa wanted to snatch both of them by the hair and ram their heads together like they were Larry and Curly and her name was Moe. She told herself they were getting on her nerves...but maybe, just maybe...she didn't think she could be strong for them right now. You think she wasn't worried? If they got shipped out of here and split up, she…

...she didn't know what she'd do.

"I can talk to him, but I don't know," Dave said and looked up. "I really don't." He glanced over his shoulder at the clock: It was almost 2:30. "Go sit in the living room," he said, "and...don't cause any trouble."

He turned away and that was it. They were on their own. Again.

Lupa brushed by Liby and left the office. Lacy followed, snatching Liby's wrist and dragging her behind.

The day room, directly off the office and flanking the front door, was a cramped, utilitarian space with tiled floors, an ancient television set with rabbit ears, and thin institutional furniture that provided all the comforts of a prison waiting room. Lupa dropped onto the couch with a frustrated sigh. Lacy sat on one side and Liby on the other; Liby leaned forward, her back stiff and her hands folded in her lap, Lacy crossed her legs and propped her elbow on the wooden armrest, her face resting in her upturned palm. Her eyes were cloudy and troubled, her lips pursed tightly as if to keep them from quivering. Liby's hands wrong and she chewed her bottom lip in worry. Lupa simply stared ahead, her mind working. The more she thought, the more worried she became. Her face was flat, unchanged, but inside she was a raging tempest of emotion, and if she didn't get control of herself, she would explode: It had happened before, and it always ended with her screaming, kicking, hitting, and being dragged away.

It didn't happen often, though, because as time went on she died a little more, and dead women don't throw bitch fits.

She took a deep breath and gazed out the window. The street was empty, dead, save for wind swept trash skating along the broken pavement. Broken pavement for a broken city, she thought, a broken world...a broken life.

"What are we going to do?" Lacy asked more to herself than to either one of her sisters. "They're gonna kick us out and we're gonna be fucked."

"What can we do?" Lupa grumbled. Smoke a cigarette...except they were on D-Level...which meant no room time (until bed), no TV, no shit. When the other girls got home from school, she, Liby, and Lacy would have to go sit in the dining room with nothing to do but stare at the walls and each other. Oh, and wait to die. Can't forget that. Usually she could sneak off to her room, hang out the window, and burn, but...fuck it. She never got anything good in her fucking life, why a smoke break?

Lacy sighed. "I don't know," she said, and there was a hitch in her voice. Lupa looked over, and the brown haired girl's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. A strange and strong mixture of pity and anger bubbled up in Lupa's chest, and she looked away. She didn't know either. She should...she was the one with all the answers, but sometimes she didn't have shit even if she pretended that she did. And sometimes she just wanted this to be over. All of it: Her life, her responsibilities, the fucking hurt that came out when she lay awake in bed at night, the loneliness...the faded scars on her wrist bore testament to that. But as someone once told her: Shit or get off the pot. Cut yourself to win or don't fucking cut yourself at all.

She didn't cut herself.

Often.

"Hey."

All three girls twisted their heads around. Dave was leaning out of the office, his hand resting on either side of the doorframe. "You can watch TV if you want," he said.

None of them spoke as they turned again. Lacy reached for the remote on the table, snatched it up, and clicked on the TV: A fat man in a plaid coat was hawking cars. "Come on down to Big Bill's Car Emporium and -" Lacy changed the channel.

Lupa looked away from the screen and out the window again; what looked like a crumpled paper cup from a fast food joint rocked back and forth in the street, buffeted by the wind and barely hanging on. Just like her. Her sisters didn't know it, but things did bother her, and though she worked endlessly to ignore them, it was hard. She was like an AIDS patient: Even the smallest ailment could prove deadly to her harangued immune system. She hung on, though, because Liby and Lacy were counting on her, and she wouldn't let them down the way her parents let her down...the way their parents let them down. They were weak, wherever and whoever they were, but she was not...she wouldn't let herself be, she would be stronger, she would survive, and so would her sisters, despite them...in spite of them.

The grotesque sound of canned laughter drew her attention back to the TV: A fat man in a plaid shirt stood in the middle of a living room with his hands on his hips and a comical expression of fatherly disapproval on his face. A boy and girl, teens, sat together on the couch and hung their heads in an melodramatically hangdog fashion.

"What have I told you kids about shenanigans?"

"They're not allowed," the boy and girl sighed in unison. The girl looked up, her eyes filled with pleading. "We're really sorry, Daddy, we've learned our lesson. We just...wanted you to spend time with us." Here the girl bowed her head again as the audience awwwww'd.

Lupa rolled her eyes.

Onscreen, the fat man drew his own sigh, then sat between his children, slipping an arm around either. "I know I haven't been the best dad," he said soberly, "and I'm sorry. You kids mean the world to me, even if I don't always show it. I love you both."

Lupa sighed. She hated sitcoms - they were all the same, and they all sucked. She turned to ask Lacy to change it, but stopped. Tears welled in her eyes, a single bead tracing down her delicate cheekbone and tapering off at the corner of her mouth; her lips trembled visibly, and she sucked them in, the movement of her facial muscles dislodging more tears from her puffy eyes. She sniffed, brushed them away, then turned. "What?" she asked tightly.

"What's wrong with you?" Lupa asked, her brow furrowing.

"Nothing," Lacy said. Her voice was thick, and she glanced away, hiding her face. "Just leave me alone."

Lupa stared at her for a moment more, then turned to Liby; one shaking hand covered her eyes and her lips were a tight, white slash. Lupa looked at the screen: The fat man and his overpaid, probably spoiled co stars hugged it out in a sickeningly sweet display of unrealistic Hallmark schmaltz. She stole another glance at Lacy; her eyes were squeezed shut and her a tremor ran through her body. Lupa frowned and touched her shoulder. "Hey, Lace…"

Lacy wrenched away and shot to her feet. "Leave me the fuck alone," she spat and rushed away, "I gotta piss."

Lupa turned to Liby. "You alright?"

She nodded. "I'm fine, just..leave me alone, please."

With a sigh, Lupa flopped back and crossed her arms. The show ended and names no one cared about flashed across the screen as a stupid end credits theme played.

Sometimes Liby and Lacy were so overwhelming that she could almost resent them. Once, long the fuck ago, she wanted to be a child...she wanted to laugh and play and be carefree, but somewhere along the line someone snatched her innocence from her hands and smashed it on the ground, then stomped it into the dirt and spat on it. She was saddled with the responsibility -

(Burden?)

- of caring for her sisters. It was all too easy to blame them, to look at them sometimes and wish they'd never been born or that they'd been taken somewhere else, somewhere across the state far, far away. The truth, however, was that Lupa probably needed them as much as they needed her. They were the reason she got out of bed in the morning, the reason she dug deep and found the courage to face the day ahead, the reason she ignored her own feelings of desolation, the reason that she hadn't fashioned a noose from a bedsheet, tossed it over a bare pipe, and hanged herself. They were a blessing, but in a way they were a curse as well. A blessing because they kept her going...and a curse for the selfsame reason.

She lived for them.

And living, as she had discovered, was the hardest thing one can do.

Day slowly drags painfully into night. And 4:00 o'clock came and went, given the the only good thing that happened to the girl today for the simple fact Matt Lancaster had too many meetings that today and couldn't slip out to deal with them. Lucky them. However, Lupa knew better. It was a minor snag-slight hindrance for the almost absolute possible-they were fucked by tomorrow. The amount of trouble they raked over the time of their stay along with shitshow at school was more than enough to confirm that in her mind.

It was nearly 8:30 PM. Lights out was always at 9. Lupa with a pair of comfy black plaid night pants and a gray shirt with a cartoon skull on it with a bandana tied to the front and G59 under the logo. Simple night attire for a unearthly cold building. The room was the only room ''personalized" in the entire home. It was cold, poorly painted, rats and roaches had turf wars there, it smelt of rotted mangos or a strong liquor and it leaked. Only "personal" touch that the trio were the only ones in the room and didn't have to share with the other kids because they were the only siblings that came in threes. Lucky them.

After getting the news from Dave a few hours ago that Matt wasn't coming, Lupa was emotionally and mentally drained, leaving her tired and barely responsive. For the rest of the day she napped, only to wake up to see that her sisters were gone. Lupa wasn't sure where they went off to or why they were acting strange watching that emotionally focus grouped garbage on the television, but she was still worried about them nevertheless.

She sits on her bed, feeling ill. Not sickly, but emotionally ill. She loved her sisters. She really did. However, she couldn't help but get annoyed with their quirks. It's normal for siblings to get annoyed at one another, but that didn't mean she didn't care for them. In fact, she adore her sisters. It's the only family she knows. Granted, they aren't the postcard happy American family that's expected from the masses like they are in the media, like that corny show they saw today, but that's just it. She was happy they weren't that kind of family. Lupa didn't need anyone else. She didn't want anyone else.

Why bother being part of that kind of family? Be with a father and mother that loved them? Please. She was more of a mother anyway and heaven knows if fathers were like any of the fathers these kids in this home tell about in those little therapy sessions that she was forced to attend, she was better off dead. Drunks, addicts, pimps, simps, abusers, rapists-why would she hope they would have a father like that? She remembers a story a girl here told about her father. She was in a a house with seven siblings and their father would have sex with them, almost like it was normal. Ruined her-had her think that's how father's show their love to their daughters. The thought sickened her.

No. She didn't want a mother. She didn't want a father. If their parents gave a damn, they wouldn't have abandoned them. That's why she knew she was better than any parent. Lupa was there for her sisters. She loved them. More than she loved herself. She'd do anything for them. To stay together. They were all they had and in the end, that's what mattered to her. If they were going to be kicked out, so be it. They'll start in a new home. No-better yet,.they'll go live the abandoned brewery. Maybe in that one vacant trap house that got rader off the Lexter-Stilwood area. She didn't care. She'll do whatever it takes.

However, as she turned off the lamp in her room, swamping the space into darkness with only the moon giving light, she knew they might not be able to work it out. They had no goal. Not idea where to go. No other family. They probably only had twenty bucks between them and everything they own could fit in a brown paper. Sad but true.

Maybe...there was no way out of this. They were going to be kicked out. She just knew it.

Lupa sighs and pulled the covers of her bed and got in, wrapping herself tightly in a cocoon of mock Egyptian cotton and closed her eyes. She believed her sisters will most likely appear right as the normally scheduled bedtime strikes or the very least a few minutes late. She opens her eyes and turned to the clock on her nightstand. 8:30 on the dot. Where were they? Where did they go?

She sighed.

They probably weeping or panicking somewhere. She wouldn't doubt it.

Lupa didn't want to keep thinking about it as she stared at the clock and saw it change to 8:31, the dim red light from the clock gleaming off her pack of cigarettes that rested next to it. Before long, everything fades to darkness as the white haired girl falls to sleep.

Waiting for the beginning of the end in the morning.

"Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings - always darker, emptier and simpler." - Friedrich Nietzsche