This is an original work of fiction so nobody can sue me :P

It is written from First perspective.

It is rated R for violence and sexual situation. This work is not a citrus product of any sort (lemon or lime).

The Best Vacation Ever

New York City was cold like all cities in the Northeast a week before Christmas, but it was alive with warm as well. Decorations were everywhere, and the holiday displays in the shop windows were amazing as always.

I was alive and happy. My mother and I were going to spend Christmas and New Years in NYC. We live in Nantucket actually and this was going to be the best Christmas vacation ever. We spent our days shopping in SoHo, Canal street, NoHo, Fifth Ave, the Village, Times Square, China town, Canal street. Did I mention Canal street twice? Well, it is worth mentioning twice because if you want Jewelry that is where you can find it and the prices are great. Constantly waiting to get buzzed in while standing in the cold is not so much fun, but the street vendors are ready with warm pretzels and nuts to help ward off the chill.

It had been a successful day of shopping. Tomorrow was Christmas and we were heading back to the hotel. I had bought several pieces necklace, bracelet, earring sets, one each in emerald & ruby, ruby, sapphire & diamond, and sapphire, new strappy red shoes with 3 inch heels, black knee high boots, a great black felt fedora, a long black wool trench coat, and this stunning backless red dress with gold and silver embroidery down the left side, and a mid thigh slit up the right. Mom didn't get nearly as much she was just having fun shopping with me.

The other half of my genetics had paid for the plane tickets, hotel and gave us quite a bit of spending cash. He is an investment banker in California happily married with 3 kids and a wonderful wife with a house in the hills. Yes, Beverly hills. Mom was is a working girl who got charmed into his bed while he was in Boston. One blissful business trip and nine months latter I was born. Don't get me wrong my father isn't a cruel heartless guy. We do live in Nantucket. My mom doesn't clean hotel rooms any more. Our house is paid for, and we get more than enough to live.

So for a poor immigrant from Japan my mother had a fairy tale romance and is living like a princess. She just can't ever mention to anybody who my dad really is. I've never seen him, I haven't even ever heard his voice. I do know his name and address and telephone number, but I never call or write. If he doesn't want to see me then I don't want to see him.

My father was the topic of conversation as we walked back to the hotel. My mom still overjoyed with our Christmas gift this year and me once again expressing my frustration with being so easily excluded from his life. I still can't understand never wanting to see or talk with your child. It doesn't make any sense to me and I still hold that against the man.

It was so sudden when it happened. Screeching tires, which aren't uncommon in NYC, then a shove into an alley. I was scared and confused. we were pushed and herded about fifty feet down the alley by 5 guys. They were all big, weight lifter or athletes. The first was white and held an aluminum baseball bat. the second was black and had a pipe. The third I couldn't see well. He wasn't as dark as the second nor as white as the first; he had a gun. The fourth was white as well and had a knife. The last was Hispanic and had a machete. He was also the smallest at about six feet tall half as wide again as I am. I'm only five feet six inches. A gorgeous five foot six, but with only a hundred and eight pounds of weight there was nothing to due but become victim. Mom was smaller than me. She barely touched five feet, but she weigh the same I did and together we probably didn't weigh as much as one of these guys. They took our bags, purses and the jewelry we were wearing. Then the first guy says there is still something he wants and turns his evil lecherous eye to me. He saunters up stripping me with his eyes as the other four laugh. I know what is coming I'm about to get raped and worse still in front of my mom. Panic sets in and my mind visions tunnels in on the approaching rapist.

My mom is crying, begging and pleading for them not to do this. He takes a knife out of his coat pocket. He tells me to remove my hat and gloves, so I do. Then I remove the coat when he demands it. His grin gets wider and his cohorts agree this is something they want too as the all start looking over my body. I'm trim and athletic but not heavily muscled. My chest is big for an half Asian girl but not large enough to look wrong such a small frame. May waist is small which helps accentuate my hips and chest. I can feel the cold as the trails of my tears freeze in the night air.

My vision is blocked suddenly as my mom put herself in front of me. She is still pleading looking left and right for any sign that even one of them might give in to her pleas. She is looking right when the first guy raises his bat in his left hand. I can't scream, or yell or move. All I can do is watch as he delivers a hard backhand swing with the bat to my mom's head and neck. She stumbles to the right and turns bleary eyes towards the attack. I stare at my mom with my hands at my mouth. Inside I'm tormented I wish I could stuff my hands down my throat a pull a scream out. That is the only thing that can save either of us. There is a flash of light to my mom's left and I see the machete move. It is a quick and fast stroke, well practiced. It travels from my mom's left waist across and out on just under her right breast.

My mom's knees fold, her but lands on her heels and she falls backwards. Her stomach is split open. Only gravity and her arms are keeping he intestines inside and that isn't working to well either. Everything slows down as I watch my mother finish hitting the ground. The colors are more alive and vivid. The smells are stronger, more potent and do not blend. I can smell the blood from my mother. I can smell the lust from the men, I can smell the threes cans of tuna in the second garbage bag on my right.

I taste my own blood as I bite my fingers. And then I scream blood from my fingers still dripping onto my tongue. The first guy is named Harold and he is afraid of the dark and closed spaces. The second guy is Jacob and he hates school; fourth grade to be exact. The third guy Eric he wants to be a woman. The fourth guy is John he has a fear of falling. The last guy is Julio and he hates being poor and hungry. I use this knowledge about each person to extract my revenge.

Julio is tied to a bed, naked and covered in hot sauce. His mother, girl friend, 3 sisters are eating him. Not politely with a knife and fork, but tearing with large fangs and sharp nails. As the finish arm or a leg or his heart and move somewhere to try to slack their undying hunger, his body grows back replaying all the pain in reverse, until that part of his body is fully restored. By then somebody else has finished and starts anew on his just restored part.

John is falling, always falling towards a grate full of sharp blades like the knife he wields. He lands on the grate and feels every puncture, every slice. he hit the bottom of the grate and slides through once again falling towards a grate full of sharp blades.

Eric is a woman, just like he wants. He is being raped by Harold, Jacob, John and Julio. Their penises are two feet long and barbed. He can feel the rip and shred him as he gets abused. The worst part is he likes it; this is what he wants.

Jacob is in fourth grade, he is getting teased and bullied, by the girls in his class. They tease him about his teeth and his nose. They tease him about the fact that he still wets his pants, and about the old worn corduroy pants with the knee patches. He sits balled in the corner crying, begging and pleading with them to stop in his wet worn corduroy pants. They don't stop.

Harold is now blind, he can't see and it is dark. But he can feel. He feels the tight press of heavy latex all around his body. It is tight and it is dark and his mind is bordering on collapse. Then he realizes he can't breath. There is no air. He tears and claws at the latex. Mere moments before he suffocates; he breaks through and greedily gulps down several breaths of air and looks up at the open sky. his relief makes him forget the latex, because he knows he can get out now. Then it closes, slowly millimeter by millimeter. He struggles to keep it open but he just can't. It closes and traps him again in it's dark closed confines, suffocating him once more.

Screams!! I heard screams. I removed my bloody hands from my mouth and realize that I never screamed. The screams are coming from the five guys. they are all on the ground screaming. The fifth, fourth and third guys are lying on their backs screaming. the second is sitting in a fetal position and whimpering. The first is lying as if he were in a coffin and struggling against some invisible bond that is restraining him.

I run. I run away. I run away farther down the alley away from the street. I can't be seen.

It is cold. It is really, really cold. I run down some steps. Seven steps and try the door. It opens and it isn't as cold.

I run. I run down a tunnel I don't know where it leads. I don't care as long as it is away.

I tire. I slow. I lean against a wall. I slide down the wall and cry. I am tired. I am cold. I am lost. I am hungry. I am alone.

I killed five men. Rather I designed and locked each one into his own inescapable torment. That is worse then killing them because now they will not know peace.

I smile. That makes me happy. I am revolted. How is that happy? How could I believe they deserved that? How did I do that?

Police, they are searching. They have a dog. How do I know they are coming? How do I know they have a dog? I'm tired, but I have to run. I wish the dog was as tired as I am. I move farther down the tunnel. The tunnel splits so I go left, the sinister direction. It is where I belong.

There is a ladder. Up or down, which way should I go? Up to the light where it is warm. The ladder is blocked by a grate. I push. I shove and it moves. I slide it out of the way and climb out. It is cold. I forgot it is winter. Should I go back down and starve or should I stay here and freeze.

"Hello Ms. are you all right? You look really cold. Here take this." A blanket is draped around me and I look around. There is a young nun standing beside me. she has her arm wrapped around my shoulders keeping the blanket in place and pulling me into her warmth. "You are freezing dear. You look hungry and tired comeback to the Mission and have some food. We can get you some different clothes that aren't ripped and torn." My clothes are ripped and torn? I look down and see that it is true. The legs of my jeans are shredded, my blouse has lost every button, and my bra is ripped. When did that happen? They didn't touch me did they? they must have.

I'm led down the street just a little ways, up some stairs and into the mission. It's a soup kitchen and I garner some stares as I am led in. A priest and another nun escort me from the lady who saved me. They bring me to a table and sit down. They ask several questions, but I don't answer. My rescuer brings me food a vegetable rich minestrone and bread which I devour without grace or manners. I've got two blankets now, but I don't know when I got the second. Only the first lady is with me know the others have left. The priest is talking with other patrons and the other nun is nowhere in site.

"Yes, I believe we have found an assault victim. … That is the correct address. … About five foot six Asian female. … No she doesn't have identification and we can not get her to talk. … Yes, I see. We will keep her here until your folks arrive. … Yes I understand no showers, no washing. Even if she goes to the bathroom? could she at least wash her hands. … Oh, I see. … Yes, I would like to see whom ever did this put away as well." I snap my head left, then right searching for the voice. I can't see her, but I can hear her. It was the second nun.

There she is walking down the stairs. She stops and talks to the priest, but I can not hear what they are saying. It is very strange, why could I hear her before? I've got to leave, they've called the cops, but the door is all the way across the room. Past all those people that leered at me when I was brought inside. There has to be another way out. Maybe that door behind the food tables. Three priest walks to the door and steps outside, the nun he was talking to walks over here and sits down. They both look at me deeply concerned, they are talking to each other and asking questions of me. Why can't I hear her now when she is right in front of me? Why could I hear her when she was upstairs? It doesn't make sense. They are both shaking their head with deep concern and sadness showing in their eyes.

The Priest walks back in with three police officers, one of which is female. The two nuns look at the officers and stand. The priest starts to lead them over. I've got to leave, I've got to run. The two nuns stand to wave to the officers and their backs turn to me. So I crouch down and slip behind the food tables. The servers are to busy to notice me as I slip behind them their focus is on help the poor and homeless in line. I slide into the doorway to the kitchen. There is a short hallway and another door. I turn the handle and glance over my shoulder. The officers are just reaching the nuns. I slide into the kitchen.

Wow it's cold in the kitchen. And full of snow, and garbage, and rats. This isn't the kitchen it's an alleyway. The tire tracks in the snow show how the food arrives, by truck. I glance left and see one of the police cars, so I move right. I climb a fence and crunch into the snow. I take off running.

I stop and slow before walking into the street. I'm still lost. I don't know this city. This doesn't look like Manhattan. The buildings are only 3 stories tall mostly made of white brick. Cute little black iron fences ring the three foot deep yard in front of each. Tall black fencing surrounds each of the shade trees on the street to prevent dogs from using them as toilets. Judging by the amount of yellow snow it doesn't work.

These are town houses, so they are built right next to each other. That means there should be a service way behind them. I turn the corner onto a more busy street. I can see far down the road the towering buildings of Manhattan, so I guess I am still in Manhattan. I find the service way and walk into it. My feet once again crunch into the snow as I leave the shoveled side walk. I walk down the alley and the dumpsters are full. there is a coach discarded next to one, and it doesn't have any snow on it. I sit down and rest. I fold the blankets around me better.

There is a lamp sticking out of the dumpster, so I look in. It isn't full of household garbage, but boxes of stuff like spring cleaning or something. I start digging through it and find clothes, CDs, books, packages of ramen, curtains. It seems somebody was moving out, or got tossed out. I guess I'm not the only one having a bad Christmas. I remove a gray ribbed cotton shirt, three bras from Victoria's and coordinated panties which still smell like detergent, fine gray wool slacks, and a white gray cardigan, and a pair of warm insulated socks. The socks won't match well and neither will my sneakers, but it is a lot better than what I have on now. I change under the blankets. I grab a book huddle under the blankets and start reading.

"Ma'am, you can't stay here, this is for residents only." I look up and see another of NYC finest.

I slowly move the blankets to the side as the cop tenses and places a had on his night stick. I stand up slowly. "I live here.", I state simply as the cop looks me up and down.

"Wha's your name then, and why are you out in the cold." he responds.

"I got into a fight with my Mom, and stormed out. I live right there, but we are moving soon." I droop my shoulders and cast my face down. "My name is Alice by the way. Is it alright if I stay here for a while longer? I just can't stand to see her right now."

"Wha' d'aya get in a fight about on Christmas eve?" he says as he sits down on the couch.

I sit as well. "Boys and sex and stuff" I mumble as I pull the blankets back around myself.

"Ah," he sighs as he leans back into the couch. "I just had the same fight with my daughter. It's tough on both sides, but the worst thing is seeing the anger in your kids eyes. nothing hurts worse than that. Well I've got'ta keep going. Take care and don't stay out here to long it's cold and you don't want to get sick." I'll be back in a couple of hours if you feel like talking." He gets up, smiles and continues down the alley. I just continue to read. It felt good to talk to somebody again. He was nice. I hope he and his daughter made up.

I finish that book and 4 others before the cops shows up again. He stops and sits back down. He examines the stack of books. "I hope you aren't planning to read all of these before you go back inside.", he jokes thought a smirking mouth.

"No, I've read those already. These are just old books somebody threw into the dumpster" I state as I flip the page of the book I'm currently absorbed in reading

"You read all these in the three hours since I was last here? That is 10 inches of books and these are easy books, I've seen these titles on my son's college reading list. … You don't want to go back to your mom tonight do you? he inquires with a chord of sadness and regret in his voice.

I flip the page "No, not tonight. I don't think I could stand to see here again tonight." I flip the page of the book again. "So I guess you are still fighting with your daughter? You probably should just let her have her space for now." and I flip the page again.

"Yeah, I know I've been doing that for the past week. I just want her to be happy at Christmas that is all. Right now it doesn't look like she will be. You've flipped 5 pages since I've been here, you can't read that fast. Or have you already read these books before?"

"No, I've never read them before." I flip the page and find the beginning of a new chapter, so I summarize the last ten pages to him, and hand him the book. "you can read it if you want to see I'm not lying" I challenge.

He gives a hearty laugh, much like you always picture Santa Claus. "No thank you. I became a cop because I couldn't stand books, I'd much rather throw them at people. How old are you by the way?"

I take the book back and begin the next chapter. "Sixteen", I reply while I continue to read.

"Same age as my daughter. Here let me get you some more books from this old thing, and I'll take you down to a run away shelter. You can stay there for the night with now questions asked. The counselors are off tomorrow, so you won't likely face lots of questions until the 26th, though I hope you go home before that." He says as he stands and grabs a duffel bag from the dumpster and loads some books into it. "There is lots of nice stuff in here, heck these people are throwing out a couch that is worth more than my entire living room set. Well here you go, 30 inches of more books. Come on lets go you need someplace warm to sleep." He takes my book and tugs me to my feet. I grab my blankets and follow, while he carries the books.

We walk in silence for about 14 streets, until we arrive at his cruiser. He opens the door and let me in. He drives me uptown to a runway shelter. I thank him and get out. He waves and drives off, his shift over. I walk in the door.

It smells musty and run down in here. Old musty furniture fills the first floor. Dilapidated couches, a mix of round and square tables with an odd assortment of chairs around each fill the space and form two general areas. An old TV sits on a shelf in the corner, with tow bent wire frame coat hangers for antenna becoming the focus of the seating area. The tables seem to be arranged more for eating, and are two far away from the TV for comfortable watching. The room is empty this late at night. I'm greeted a bit after I walk in by a late teen or early twenties girl. She asks my name and I reply. I don't catch her name when she says it. She takes me to small room with two triple bunk beds and a naked circular florescent light in the ceiling. I'm informed that both bottom bunks are taken, Melissa and Bethany respectively left and right. I can choose any of the remaining four. Each bed is numbered and there is a locker between the bed with matching numbers for your use. They don't lock so don't put anything in there you don't want to risk loosing. The doors lock only from the inside, so anybody could wander in when everybody is out. I thank her and take the top bunk above Bethany. I crack open my book and begin reading.

Dawn finds me in an empty room, neither room mate seems to have come home last night. I finished all of the books and reread three during the night. I couldn't sleep for fear that I might dream. I can't control my dreams and I'm sure they would show me nothing but earlier this night.

I wonder down stairs where there is breakfast being served. Breakfast is pancakes and syrup. Good warm comfort food, exactly what I need right now. The local ABC affiliate is on the TV. Everybody on TV is dressed up and looking happy. Some guy wanders down and wishes everybody a Merry Christmas and receives similar happy greetings in return. They all ignore the weird Asian girl watching the TV.

The new show mentions a horrible murder that happened down town last night. Apparently a middle aged elderly woman was eviscerated and left to die in an alley. This puts a quick hush to the cheerful mood that had existed. A tall black guy stands up and turns the TV off, just as my picture is displayed on the screen. "Ah, we don't need to hear this type of news on Christmas." he replies gruffly. "Look everybody, I know it ain't much but I have something for each of you. It's just a package of holiday m&ms, but at least you get to unwrap it. My boss was about to send it back to the factory for a refund when I bought the three boxes from him, so it didn't cost much." He starts handing out the candy to everybody. The happy mood returns to each face with the candy. I get up to leave.

The big guy catches up to me at the door just before I pull it open. "Hey don't leave with out your candy. I know you just got here but it is something at least to bring some cheer to you on this day."

I accept the candy and pull the door open. "Thank you, but it won't help. That was my mom on the news program. It was five guys, she got cut while trying to stop them from raping me." I look up into his stunned face, and pull the door closed behind me.

I walked to the corner and turned left to avoid having to wait for the light to cross the road. I continued on and turned left again to head back where I came from to try and throw off any pursuit. It didn't work.

"Hey wait up, I'm Tony". He said as he jogged up besides me. "The whole city is looking for you. You didn't do that to your mom did you." I didn't answer. "No you said there were five guys. Funny the news show didn't mention them at all. It did say that they didn't believe you were dangerous, but warned about confronting you since you were likely very traumatized."

More silence followed as Tony struggled to find something to say. I just kept walking. "I don't even know what to say. I couldn't even imagine seeing that happen. Look I work at a deli by 64th street and Second Ave. If you want to talk stop by I'll find the time." With that he stopped turned and walked away. I continued on until I came to a bridge, well the underside of one at least. I slipped through a whole in the fence and started walking down the road. I stopped by a bunch of homeless people gathered around barrel burning wood. They silently made room. I said nothing and just enjoyed the heat. The conversation today focused on which shelter was going to have the best Christmas dinner.

A the second dawn occurred, that is the dawn where the sun appears over the buildings rather than just lighting the sky. Everybody began their slow trek to their desired, shelter sponsored dinner. I was invited by twice to come with them, but I remained silent. I like silence it isn't screams. It wasn't long before they all left and my life was changed once again.

A swirl of snow, like a little tornado and then he was standing there. Tall six feet or so like my attackers, but he was thin not muscle bound. He spoke with out moving his lips. The words, images, scents, feelings all appeared in my mind. "You are troubled", the five guys writhing on the ground in pain came to my mind, the smell of their terror and the scent of their urine, the abject horror and terror of that moment. "I can help", images of my mother and our shopping trip, the smell of fresh bags and hot pretzels, the joy and hope embodied by me anticipation of the holidays to come.

He was in my mind. He was reading my mind. Panic again welled to the surface. His name was Jonathan. Jonathan Cross and he was a witch. No, he is a Mage. His greatest fear was failure. His failure to protect the nine. Only the nine could protect against the upcoming evil. Reflexively I sought to bind him in his fear the way I did my five attackers, but I couldn't for him to fail I had to die. I couldn't kill myself, so I ran.

The world slowed once more. The papers took longer to fall, and the wind blew them more slowly. But not him, he didn't slow. He kept after me. He wasn't slowed, he was actually faster than me. Then I hit a wall that was not there. It was on all sides, it was square and it had a top and a bottom. I could not pass through, but I could still feel the breeze. He turned and faced me.

He held my purse at arms length then he slowly placed it on the ground. He spoke and his lips moved, "This is your purse it has 2500 dollars in it. In your purse you will also find a hotel key. The room the key opens is paid for two weeks. There is also a one way first class ticket to Seattle. I run a school there and you have a place at that school. I can teach you to control what has awakened in you. The ticket is fully exchangeable, so you can switch it to Boston if you wish. The price difference should be enough to get you back to Nantucket. The choice you face is yours. You should know that I can help. I bear you no ill will. There is also a piece of paper with two phone numbers. The first is a limo company which has been prepaid to drive you to Kennedy Airport. The second is the number for the school in case you have any questions. I'll be leaving now, and you will be released once I go. Take care and keep yourself safe." He just disappeared, no wind, no sound, no swirl of snow.

I stumbled forward as the wall disappeared and I gathered my purse. He was telling the truth. Cash in tens, twenties and fifties, a hotel key to a room in the Marriott Marquis, one plane ticket and piece of paper with two phone numbers. I left the bridge, took out my metro card and took the T. Oops subway I'm in New York not Boston. I got out on Broadway and walked into the Marquis. I pressed floor 30 and rode the elevator up. I found my room and keyed into it. It was a beautiful and it had a Times Square view.