The young girl ran through the empty streets with vague hysteria in her eyes. Her breathing was labored, her tiny chest heaving with grief-stricken sobs. Her long black wig was off-center, weighed down by the ruby red blood that coated her petite frame. The hollow sound of her boot-clad feet hitting the ground echoed off the grimy walls of the dark back-allies. Her sense of direction was long forgotten as she tore through the midnight streets of Sanitarium Isle, forcing herself to keep moving, hoping, praying to the gods above that she could crawl into her wonderfully shrouded plastic cocoon of a bed, and wake up to her gloriously oblivious now former life. She didn't suppose GeneCo had a SurGEN that could fulfill a request among those lines; Although, she would happily indebt herself to the corrupt corporate giant that advocated mass-murder in the form of organ repossessions, if only they could grant that desperate plea. Mentally, the recently orphaned girl cursed the company that had not only brung the entire population to its knees and shackled them all to a life of fear, but also banished her to a life of hardships and lonliness without anything more to her name than a mind full of questions.
Without warning, the girl was plunging towards the blacktop, a Z-ed out addict having been the cause of her sudden fall. The deathly white child landed face down on the wet cement, her blood crusted wig fanned out beside her haphazardly. She groaned and picked it up shakily, while rolling onto her back and pushing herself up on her elbows to inspect the damage from the fall. A rip in the bottom of her tight black dress and scraped knees appeared to be her only visible battle scars, although from the warm liquid she felt making its way slowly down her chin, her lip was undoubtedly busted. She tentatively touched her thin fingers to her mouth, and yelped as a white hot pain shot its way across her mouth.
Instinctively, the child drew her legs up to her chest, burrying her head in the bunched up fabric of her ruined dress while clutching that damned wig with a desperate fervor, and abruptly began sobbing with a strength that seemed incapable of the pixie like girl, her shoulders shaking with the force of her trembling body. She threw herself back onto the pavement, putting her small hands over her eyes, mentally giving up.
As her sobbing subsided, laughter took its place, and then slowly, the eyes of the broken girl lying in the middle of a damp, dirty back-alley began to slip shut in a last-ditch effort to sleep. I really am fucked, she thought to herself. Her hysterical giggles quieted, and she could hear footsteps approaching her, but she no longer cared. She could feel sleep began to tug at her conciousness, and she welcomed it with open arms.
A cold foot poked gingerly at her ribs, accompanied by a deep, familiar drawl. "Kid, is that you?"