I do not own the characters.


December 14 - Boston, MA.

After unfastening her winter coat, Faith Lehane quickly fished for her keys in the cold apartment complex hallway. Her numb and sore fingers trembled as she held the keys. She never knocked or rang the doorbell to her apartment. Why bother. Nobody was home. More often than not, her mother would not be there. And if her mom was in she was too busy and too disinterested with the comings and goings of her daughter. If her mom did notice Faith, it always culminated in some sort an argument, which sometimes led to a fight.

"Woohoo! I'm seventeen now," announced Faith to the sparse, cold apartment.

From her tiny bedroom, she grabbed a blanket wrapping it around her and set aside her books and coat. In the living room, she flipped on the television and went to the kitchen.

"Surprise, surprise," said Faith, as she opened the refrigerator door. "Hmm . . .Look's like a winner . . . We have ketchup, mustard, miracle whip, mayo and salad dressing. Oh yummy!" said Faith with sarcasm. "Cool! Mac and cheese my buds."

While she prepared her supper, she scrounged around and rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and cupboards finding a six-pack of lukewarm beer.

"Jack pot," smiled Faith and twisted off a can, and went to bathroom.

In the small bathroom, she looked at the mirror to check for any changes. Turning her head slightly sideways and then back, she didn't see anything different. Apart from the recent bruises, she still looked the same. Tomorrow she was sure she would get more, after school the Avedo sisters and their kid brother had *greeted* Faith.

Faith rang her fingers on her right cheek and ear. It smarted as well as her arms and shoulders. She was sure they had more bruises. It wasn't too bad, they could hit but they had nothing compared to her mother. Mom could pack a wallop. When the sisters and that runt jumped her, she'd showed them. Putting up a brave fight, Faith never said a word or shed a tear. That alone seemed to infuriate them further to pummel Faith even harder until she collapsed in a huge snow bank. Aching, stunned, and covered in snow Faith managed to crawl away and go home.

Inspecting her fingers, in particular her fingernails she saw how cruddy they were. Black nail polish would take care of that. However, nothing could be done about the scrapes on her knuckles. She washed and scrubbed the grim away from her face and hands, working diligently at the fingernails. And she applied some black plum lipstick before she grabbed her beer can.

Smiling at her reflection, she lifted the can in a toast. "Happy Birthday to me."

"Let's see what's on the idiot box," said Faith, as she returned to the living room.

She plopped with no cares on the lumpy, tattered sofa. The dilapidated sofa had tears and was covered with indeterminable stains. The arms were frayed with areas exposing yellow foam.

With the remote on one hand and her beverage in the other, she clicked through the channels. Soap operas – boring, cartoons – yawn, talk shows – oh please.

Putting her feet up on the wobbly coffee table, she finally settled for an old black and white thriller flick and started to apply a fresh coat of black nail polish.

This old school 1960's film was a classic in the horror/suspense genre. It was one she had seen countless times before and never got bored with it.

The current scene showed a man pumping gas. Then an errant seagull came from nowhere and knocked him out unconsciously. Gasoline was still being pumped out. Next, came the part where another man lit up a cigar while a stream of gasoline was flowing nearby.

"What a moron," said Faith with disdain and drank her beverage watching the explosion and fire unfold.

Then all hell broke loose. A swarm of seagulls swooped down and began their assault. The scene panned to a blonde hair woman finding refuge in a glass telephone booth near the gas station. Trapped in the telephone booth, she screamed hysterically as the shrieking seagulls attacked from all quarters while witnessing the mayhem. A few birds had managed to crash into the glass causing fractures but the booth held up.

What Faith never fully comprehended or it was never explained to her plausibly, was why did the birds go berserk in the first place. Why did they attack that particular fishing town? What was certain is the avian violence started when the blonde woman came to town. The town folks were quick to blame her. Faith speculated that some things couldn't be explained and accepted it as such. After all her dreams didn't make sense either and revolved around the supernatural.

After the film finished, she considered watching another movie but flipped off the TV. She had an assignment but not the kind of homework assignment from school. Her social worker had given her a journal or diary book.

Faith was tightlipped with her private life. Without saying much at the time, she took the book without giving a fuss. Moreover, she didn't want to hang there anymore than she had to. At the time, she promised to write just to get the woman off her back.

Her social worker, Vanity Collins or 'V' to Faith, thought it would be a good way for her to get in touch with feelings and work out her issues. Faith was not inclined to divulge her feelings and felt it was nobody's business and didn't feel like she needed to be in touch with herself. Moreover, she wasn't buying into this psychobabble touchy-feely nonsense. But since she was part of the social services system and still a minor she played along. While she didn't care about her mother and could barely tolerate her, she wasn't too keen in being placed in a foster home. So she put on the appearance of being cooperative.

In her Spartan bedroom, she flipped on the only light and sat on her only furniture, a futon mattress. The mattress was situated away from the drafty windows, which had threadbare curtains. Old rolled up towels and rags on the windowsill served to plug the leaky windows. Her mattress also doubled as a chair when she positioned the mattress in such a way against the wall. Above her, a single naked bulb hung from the ceiling and she reached for a pen. Faith chuckled with amusement when she had a humorous thought and began her first entry.

From Go Ask Malice: December 14

Today was the best birthday ever! When I woke up and came downstairs, Mom had made a huge surprise breakfast, with bacon, scrambled eggs a big pile of pancakes covered in syrup, and orange juice. Yum! I gobbled it all up and had a few minutes to spare, so I hung out with Mom and she told me how proud of me she was because I am such a great daughter – smart, kind, and beautiful to boot! . . . .

Afterwards she considered going to see her best friend, Tommy but she was too sore and exhausted to do anything else. Within moments she went to sleep.