Hey, Fellow Repo! Fans. Please understand that this is my first fanfic in over a year; I might be a little rusty. Also realize that this is my first fanfic of Repo! The Genetic Opera. Constructive criticism, suggestions, and complements only would be greatly appreciated!

I own none of the characters or terms in this story. I simply own my thoughts.

As I walked out of the opera house, I gave a slight shiver to the crowd staring back at me. Some of them were taking pictures, some applauding, while others simply stared. It's hard to know what to do or say in situation like that. It was extremely bittersweet. My father died in my arms, but I was finally free. How do you deal with something like that? People started shouting questions at me.

"Miss, how do you feel now that you know you have no real blood disease?"

"Are you exited to go out into the real world and make something of yourself?"

"Are you afraid that you won't be able to survive without your father?"

I just stared back at them. What could I say? Of course I was happy that I didn't have a blood disease, but I was also guilty of blaming the fact that I thought I had one on my mother for as long as I could remember. Was I happy to finally be able to live my own life? Of course, but I was also scared. Where would I go? I knew at once that I couldn't stay here. Not if I was going to have to deal with people taking pictures of me for something like this. I had always wanted people taking pictures of me for being a famous singer. Up until tonight, it would have been a dream to be the voice of GeneCo. I thought I it would mean I was special.

The last question was the hardest to answer, because I never really thought about it before. Would I survive? I had always thought about being out of my room and into the fresh air the way a little girl thinks of becoming a princess when they grow up. I wished with all my heart that it could happen, but never thought about what I would do or where I would go if it actually happened.

I only knew that I couldn't stay here.

I looked back at the reporters, or otherwise, opera/ Blind Mag fans, once more and ran.

I must have been running for at least ten minutes before I realized, to my surprise, that I knew where I was going. I guess looking out your window all your life is kind of like looking out at a giant map. I knew I was. I was almost to the alley that Graverobber had shown me. I didn't fully know why I was going there; I just knew that anymore, he was the only person I trusted. I didn't know why I trusted him. There was just something about him that I liked.

I was about a hundred yards away from the alley when I heard a small crowd of people running after me. They must have followed me from the theater to try and ask me more questions about what just happened. I saw a Dumpster a few away from me and sprinted toward it. I opened the lid and jumped in right before the group turned the corner. I gave a quick sigh of relief when a huge shiver went down my spine. I was not the only one in this Dumpster. I squinted into the darkness and saw the face of someone I recognized.

"Graverobber?"

"That's not my name! My name is Shiloh, and we should probably keep quiet unless we want some reporters putting pictures of you and me in a Dumpster together in the newspaper!"

"So your name's Shilo," He went on, though slightly quieter now. "Well, my name isn't Graverobber. My name is—"

"Shhhh!" I said finally quieting him.

He finally seemed to get the point because the only noise I could hear coming from him was his slow shallow breathing. I briefly thought of why his breather was slow and shallow. My only thought was that it had something to do with Zydrate. Some cure that had turned out to be…

When I thought that I finally heard the crowd pass, I let out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks." I whispered to Grave Robber. He inclined his head with a slight laugh.

"What?" I whispered after about five seconds of what I knew was no doubt going to be endless laughter.

"Do you think that I try to get you into trouble? It seems to me that trouble finds you." HE whispered along with a malicious grin.

"That might have something to do with the fact that I've been locked in my bedroom all my life." I said a little more irritably than I had intended. "That was kind of what I came to talk to you about anyway." I said trying to make my voice sound a little bit nicer. "Is there any way that you could help me get out of here?" I tried to put on my best hopeful look possible.

"Wow. You barely know me and you're willing to trust me with your life?" He asked a slight smile still on his face. He seemed calm enough, though I felt like exploding.

"What? You would seriously call what I had a life? That was nothing. I really want to make something of myself, but I can't do that unless you say you're going to help me." I took a huge breath; I had said all of this in a very fast amount of time because it was really hard to admit that I needed help after seventeen years of thinking that I would be able to make it on my own. "Please?" I said in my quietest of voices.

"Wow, Kid—Sorry Shilo." He knew better than to call me kid at the death glare I was giving him. "You really are one of the bravest girls I've met at your age. You run away from home and come to ask me for help? You've got some guts. Because you never ratted me out that night in the graveyard, I'm going to help you. I like your story and your spunk."

I felt so much like crying with joy at that moment. "Thank you so much." I whispered with true gratitude. I hugged him, for I was extremely grateful to have someone to rely on.

"Okay, before you get to sobbing all over the both of us, I have one question. Where do we start?"

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