"Jesus Christ!" Bitter let the holy name slip through her lips as she just barely caught her. The dead weight of the taller, unconscious girl made Bitter start to fall backwards. A pair of hands came to her aide, holding her up by her back, a grunt elicited from behind her.
"Can we get some fuckin' help ovah heah?" Illusion hollered, specifically at her shocked boyfriend Bumlets, whose feet seemed to be momentarily glued to the floor.
"Help!" Bitter shrieked as she started to lose her grip on Gip's body, the slickness of the blood now covering her hands making it hard to hold on for much longer.
Bumlets and Skittery, who had also been watching them dumbfounded, finally rushed forward to help. They gathered Gip's limp body in their arms and, together, slowly ascended the staircase to the room in which Bitter had spent her day sleeping in, known as the sick room. With Illusion and Bitter tailing them, they successfully placed her on the bottom bunk.
"I'll get some bandages and peroxide, Bitter see how bad her wounds are," Illusion ordered, hurrying to find some supplies.
Bitter hurried the concerned newsboys out of the room and closed the door quickly behind them. On instinct, Bitter started where the blood had gathered the most, ripping the once white shirt clad upon the girl's body. Revealed on Gip's stomach was a straight, bloody cut that ran from under her left breast to her side, almost 6 inches long.
Illusion rushed in, balancing a bowl of water, old towels, bandages, and a bottle of peroxide. Jumping up to help her, Bitter grabbed the towels and bandages, shutting the door again to keep away curious eyes. Illusion nabbed a towel and soaked it in the warm water, carefully cleaning up the horrible looking cut.
The door creaked open and a freckled, pale face appeared, blue-green eyes filled with tears. Snicker entered the room silently, speaking quietly. "If only I hadn't lost her knife in dat fight… she woulda been ok.." Tears streamed down her face and Bitter moved aside, letting her take her spot beside the bunk. Snicker quietly looked over the bruises and scratches. "Oh Gip, how did they find you? I tried so hard, we all did, how did they find you?" Snicker spoke gently, voice full of fear and concern for her friend.
"Who?" Bitter inquired. "Who are they? Who did this?"
Snicker sighed, having both Illusion and Bitter's attention.
"The Butterfly Gang," a meek voice came from the bunk. Gip's blue eyes were full of pain and she gritted her teeth as she spoke. "I need some liquor, could I get some liquor…"
Bitter pulled a small flask from her pocket and unwound the cap, holding the drink to her lips. Nodding when finished, Gip licked the remaining whiskey off of her lips. "They're called dat for de knives dey carry," Gip groaned a little as Illusion continued to clean her wound.
"But why are dey aftah you?" Bitter asked.
"Now dat is a bit of a story right dere.." Gip's eyes flashed as she spoke. "But we don't got times fer stories, Irish is out dere wit dem, she told me ta get outta dere, dere were only three of dem, but you gots to find her, she's somewhere near Central park… at least I hope she's still dere..." Gip's voice was full of urgency.
Bitter had feared this and was quickly on her feet and racing out the door. Not caring that she knocked over a few newsies on her way out, she forced a path out of the lodging house and into the streets. Her muscular legs carried her quickly to Central Park, ignoring the hollers of anger that trailed after her as she pushed through crowd after crowd. She searched through every alley, abandoned corner, and street.
When she came upon her friend, Irish was trapped against a brick wall, in what seemed like the darkest, most desolate alley around this part of town. One of the boys that she recognized to be Horror was slumped against the wall unconscious. The other named Chameleon, who she had worked over before, was nursing his wounded hand and clutching his nether regions in pain.
Bitter almost laughed, seeing how Irish had disabled the boy, but her attention was attracted to the third boy, who had Irish held against the wall. He was slamming her arm against the wall repeatedly, attempting to know the switchblade from her hand.
Hurrying to Irish's aide, Bitter pushed Prowler aside and grabbed the boy holding Irish by his curly brown hair and yanked him off of her. His yellow eyes glimmered angrily as he turned his attention to Bitter. She drew back her fist and slammed it into his face. He took a step back, barely phased. She did not hesitate and kicked him hard in the stomach, knocking him back against the wall where he had been holding Irish a minute earlier.
"You alright Irish?" Bitter inquired, never taking her eyes off the boy in front of her. He stood at 5'8", only three inches above her, and was of medium build. Guys like this were usually of little threat to Bitter, but she could tell he was different, she could see it in his dangerous yellow eyes.
"I'se fine!" Irish called, having set to work on Prowler. "Nice ta see ya Bitter."
Bitter didn't have time to reply for she had to dodge the boy's sudden charge at her. Her eyes widened as he pulled a double-bladed knife on her, just barely missing Bitter's cheek as she ducked. She backed up feeling for the dagger that was holstered to her thigh. The boy rushed her again and she aimed low with her dagger, sidestepping as he missed her once more, swiping the dagger as he moved, grazing his outer right thigh.
"Don't think you'll win little girl, I'se been missin' on purpose," the boy growled lowly. With one quick move, he had her face first against the wall, slamming her head into the bricks and then pulling her back towards him once he was convinced some of her strength was vanished. Pulling her body close, he held the blade against her neck and used his free hand to wring the dagger free from her hand. Her resistance to losing her weapon caused him to cut her right hand. Once free, the boy threw the dagger to the far side of the alley. Bitter watched it disappear into the darkness with a feeling of dread, her head spinning.
"Don't move a muscle!" the boy hollered at Irish, who had turned her attention to Bitter's current situation, leaving a wounded Prowler on the ground.
"Get out of here or I'll kill her," the boy growled. "You make one false move and I'll slit her throat." He pressed the sharp knife harder against Bitter's throat, making it impossible for her to speak without the knife cutting into her flesh.
Irish reluctantly flicked her switchblade closed and placed it in her pocket. She walked slowly out of the alley, unsure of what to do. Once at the entrance, she darted quickly away, hopefully to go find some help.
"Get Horror and yourself out of heah, I'll take care of her," the boy ordered, the obvious leader of the gang. He didn't loosen his grip on Bitter for even a second. Once the two boys were gone, he began to drag her further back into the darkness.
Regaining her ability to speak without being harmed, Bitter spoke. "If you t'ink you'se gonna do anything but kill me den you got yerself mistaken, 'cause I'd rather die den let you…" Bitter was interrupted by the rough laughter of her captor.
"I'se gonna let you go, but not before someone talks to you…" the boy said. "She wouldn't let me do something like dat even if I was dat type of guy." He kept his knife close to her neck as they continued walking.
"You kin let go of her already Blade," a female voice spoke from the shadows.
The flickering light in the alley revealed Bitter's former friend. Having been let go, Bitter jumped at the girl, her fists flailing. Before she could connect a punch to Shooter's face, Blade's rough hands grabbed a hold of her and held her once again, his knife letting her know he meant business as it roughly was pushed against her throat again.
He laughed. "You'se one spirited goil, aren't ya Bittah." If they had been in any normal position, Bitter might've found the boy's voice intoxicating and sexy, but the malice in his voice only angered her more.
"Now listen to me Bittah… if you don't want you or any of your friends to get hoit, I suggest y'all stop protecting that Gypsy girl… Next time we meet, I'm not going to be able to protect you."
Seeing the new, horrible person that Shooter had become, Bitter couldn't hold in her anger. Spitting at her former friend, she screamed, "Fuck you Shooter, fuck you!"
"Don't say I didn't warn you…" there was no kindness left in the girl's face and Bitter knew now that she was no longer the friend she had once known.
Shooter disappeared back into the shadows and without warning, Blade's arm connected with Bitter's skull, blackening the world around her.