Okay, let me just start off by saying that you guys are going to hate me by the end of this chapter, and the fact that this is where I'm leaving it for awhile will really kill you.
Second. This story is almost 100% based on a Telenovela (spanish soap opera) that I love oh so very much called Rosario Tijeras. (Tijeras meaning scissors, you'll see why soon enough). Which brings me to the rating.
Rated M for the following reasons: Rape, drugs, profanity, prostitution, death, murder, gangs, and violence.
And finally, the character Relationships are really whacky. Since I already used up about half of this chapter to write this authors note, then next chapter I will explain all character relationships.
Plus, the prayer and title sound funny because they are translated quotes from the telenovela.

Prologue

His eyes dark green eyes that flooded with worry rapidly darted between the road and the girl in the passengers seat of his car. She wasn't just any girl though, she was Buttercup Utonium, the absolute love of his life, and there she lay, body covered in blood and floating in and out of consciousness. The only sounds he could here where the constant murmurings that escaped Buttercup's pale lips and his heartbeat, racing faster than it had ever gone in his life.

"Don't worry, Butterbutt." a dry, fake laugh escaped his lips as he recalled the many times he had used such a childish nickname on her. "Butchie's here, you'll be alright. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise." He gulped loudly, fearing that this was one promise that he could not keep.

"I-" she began, her lime green eyes seemed to lost, yet so focused. Then she mumbled again, the same prayer that she has mumbled anytime she was in danger. The one he knew so very well. "If they have eyes, don't let them see me."

His breathing stopped and he squeezed her hand tighter, joining in on her special prayer. "If they have hands, don't let them grab me. If they have feet, don't let them catch me. Please don't let them get me from behind. Amen." He saw her lips curve into a smile right before she dove out of consciousness for another time.

His eyes spotted a group of policemen on motorcycles parked on the side of the interstate. He drove up beside them and pulled down his window. "Hospital! I need a hospital! She's bleeding out! Hurry!" The policemen asked no questions and turned on their sirens as they escorted the worried twenty-nine year old and unconscious twenty-two year old to the hospital.

The seemed to pass so slow, seconds felt like hours before they finally reached the hospital. He parked in the emergency drop-off and quickly exited the car. "Bed! Rolly bed! I need one of those! She's bleeding out!" He shouted as he roughly flung her door open, nearly ripping it off of the car. He picked her up bridal style and placed her on the gurney, watching her almost lifeless body stain the white sheets.

He followed beside her, holding her hand and watching her pale face as they pushed through multiple hospital doors. When they arrived at the hospital room, Butch wasn't allowed inside and his eyes peeked through the blinds, watching the doctors inject her with multiple needles and crowd around her in attempt to keep her alive.

Butch's hands brushed his face as he tried his hardest to calm his twitching down. His mind raced with possible outcomes and multiple scenarios, which was when it hit him. Brick, Blossom, and Robin had no idea of what had happened. His hands searched desperately for the valuable object in his pocket that he nearly broke in two from how hard he clutched it.

He typed in his sister's number and waited, hoping she would answer. "Come on, Blossom. Pick up, pick up, pick up!" he pleaded, but had no such luck when he was met with voice-mail. "Fuck!" he cursed, pressing the end call button.

He ran a hand through his un-gelled hair and pressed Brick's contact. As much as he couldn't stand Brick for stealing her away one to many times,he still thought that he deserved the chance to know what was going on. After being sent to voicemail by yet another person he said, deciding to leave him a message.

"Brick, you fucker, she's dying! You're off doing God knows what and she's dying! Buttercup was shot, she's dying! She's leaving us, you motherfucker, answer your damn phone!" He yelled, his voice filled with fear and rage. He made his way toward the receptionist and bit his lip. "Is she going to be okay? You have to save her! Promise me you will!"

"Sir, we will do the best that we can, but we need her information. Full name please?" She asked, ready to type.

"Uh- Buttercup."

"I said, full name!" She repeated, her tone full of anger.

"Buttercup Rosetta Utonium." He replied as his eyes darted toward the panicking room.

"And your's"

"Butch Anthony Jojo."

"What are you to her? Family? Husband? Boyfriend?" Butch opened his mouth to answer, but felt a slight buzzing coming from his pocket.

"All of them," he replied mindlessly as he picked up the phone.

"You sick bastard, what kind of fucking prank is this? I'm in the middle of a game and I get this damn voicemail, what do you mean she's dying?" Brick's enraged tone boomed through his phone. Butch gulped loudly and wiped the newly formed sweat from his forehead with his blood covered hand.

"This isn't a fucking joke, man! I'm here, she was shot! She was fucking shot, I couldn't do anything, I'm sorry." Butch spat back on the verge of tears.

"You're fucking sick, man. Don't call me again!" Brick yelled, followed by the beep of an ended call.

"Sir, I need to know if you can be held responsible for the patient. What are you to her?" She repeated once more. Butch took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"I-I can... boyfriend... I'm her boyfriend." he replied, as he turned around, only to be met with the cops that escorted him.

"Are you carrying any weapons, sir?" The biggest one asked as he eyed Butch's blood stained clothes.

Butch scoffed. "Are you suggesting that I shot her?"

"No, sir, we just need to know." He replied sternly. Butch groaned and pulled up his shirt revealing no gun in his pockets or waistband. The cop nodded and eyed his clothes once more. "Were you shot?" He questioned.

"N-no... just her." he whispered sadly.

Meanwhile, in the operating room, doctors panicked as her heartbeat slowed down to a near stop. The closest doctor placed his hands on her chest and tried pumping her heart back to normal sped.

"One, two, three, four." He breathed while he stared at the monitor. No change. "One. Two. Three. Four." Once again, no change. "One. Two. Three. Four." This time there was a change. Instead of slow, unsteady beeps filling the room, the noise that echoed was the flat whine of a lost life.