Author's Note: Just wanted to warn everyone that this is my very fist attempt at writing a story.
The city of Townsville... isn't all it's cracked up to be. Heh, Hell it never was. Sure, every fuck'n person thinks its wonderful with those little girls fly'n around and giving all the outsiders an optimistic view, making it look like a goddamn cake walk living here. Most people here have never seen Townsville's ugly side. Drugs and alcohol, guns and knives, gangs and hobos, prostitutes and whores. Yup, this city has it all. People say these Powerpuff Girls are doing wonders for this city. What a joke. Fuck'n assholes don't know that all those girls did was drive the rest of the thugs and criminals to these darkening ghettos. With them around, these streets and alleys are more dangerous then before.
Hell, even the police have given up hope on this side of town. They watch the things that go on here, but do they do nothing, no. A few of the major drug bosses have them all paid off so that they can do their usual work. Bastards. They sat on their asses while they ate doughnuts and watched while my supposed mother was raped and murdered. I say supposed because I never knew my real mother or father for that matter. I was a bastard child dropped off here to die like a stray dog.
The woman felt bad for me, being the pathetic wretch I was, took me in and took care of me for those thirteen years, and it was only three years ago then whore died. She never really told me her name, but she did give me the most valuable piece of advice in this God forsaken alley. Never trust anybody, even if they are your friends, otherwise you'll wind up like a prom night baby, dead. All I remember about her was that her job was prostituting, the same reason why I never saw her most of the time. When I was young, she used to have a game in which she'd claim I was the daughter of one of the many men she fucked and sue them to get child support money. It worked a few times until some bastards wanted DNA tests. Needless to say, she never won those cases.
This city is a hell on Earth and even the most trustworthy person will stab you in the back for the right price. My adoptive father lost his for only 43 dollars and some loose change. The only money my "family" owned. Now I need to start following another piece of advice, never look back.
Everyone overlooks this place. All they have to do is shut the blinds and poof! Problems gone. Like I said, damn Powerpuffs make everything look so damn amazing it makes me sick. They live in their house and have cooked meals while I and about forty or so of other people have to suffer in the bare streets, fight for food and space, we also have to carry knives for protection against one another. Like my whore mother told me, You can't trust anybody.
I call a small empty alley corner my home. No walls or rooms. I consider myself lucky. People do have less then this. At least I have this blanket I'm sitting on now, the clothes on my back, and a switch-blade knife in my pocket with, I guess you'd want to call my name, inscribed on it. The knife reads Dani, but you can call me whatever you want.
All I do is sit here and think about a different life, even though I shouldn't. I still remember what happened last time, litterally wound up at a dump.