A/N: An update at last! Aaah, I'm sorry about that.

Timory hurried out of Central Park Square at the sight of setting sun, towards her home. She was feeling crappy, and didn't want to bother with the gang-bangers and dealers and druggies she would have to face if she went home later. Timory trudged home, taking in the Alphabet City scenery. Truthfully, she didn't live all too far from Mark and his roommate's apartment. But he didn't need to know that.

Mark. He stuck out in Timory's mind- because, he was one of the few people who actually cared for her well-being. Mark was kind, and everything a girl would want in a parental guardian. Oh yes, Mark stuck out quite a lot in Timory's mind.

She reached the front of the apartment building, and entered. Timory's high spirits sank with every floor she went past. Finally, she arrived at Apartment 90L. She didn't bother putting her house-key in the lock. It opened with a gentle shove. Timory wrinkled her nose at the sight of the mess in the house. It was that she didn't clean, it was that the apartment never stayed that way.

She passed her father on her way to her little room; Bruce Thompson snoring on the sofa, sleeping upright, and a series of beer cans surrounding his little area. Timory took a moment to drink in the sight before her. She shook her head sadly. He had given up on being her father after she hit the age of nine; when she could cook and knew how to care for him. Now she was fourteen, and he was only worse. Drink, yell, and sleep. It was his routine.

Timory opened the door to her room, and didn't bother with turning on the lamp on her wall. She went straight for her bed, where she buried her face in her hands. She gave a sad little moan, and shut her eyes. She wished she didn't have to lie to Mark about her parents; "Mom's never home" and "Dad has a bit of a drinking problem" was an understatement. She wished that Mom wasn't gone, wished that Dad acted like how a father should, she wished more people cared for her… She wished. Timory sighed, what was the point of wishing without the intention of acting? She closed her eyes, and tried to think about her mother.

She hardly knew anything about her. She left when Timory was two (which made Timory guess that she was a teenage mother, afterall, her father was only 33); Timory looked exactly like her, except for her eyes; she had her father's eyes, and not her mother's celery-green eyes. Timory frowned, and screwed up her eyes. What else did she know... Her mother named her after one of her original characters in her story All But the Stars, and her name was April Ericcson.

Endnote: Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. And for the cliffhanger. Aha not really. ;) Anyways, I might elaborate on All But the Stars and turn it into (another) oneshot. I realize that I should repost the first chapter because .. it sucks. Okay, enough of my rambling! Thanks to all that reviewed.