Disclaimer: Omg, guess what? Still not mine.

Notes: This is my favourite chapter so far. It's been written for about two months.. I just haven't posted it. XD I'm not lazy or anything. April's been invading my brain a lot in the past few months andI'm working on an April-centric fic that may or may not ever get finished.

I just finished production week for the school musical, so that's why I've been sort of dead lately. Plus I'm really lazy and never update anyway. xD For those of you who care, we did Babes In Arms and I played Bunny.. which was really an experience because I almost died multiple times backstage tripping over sets. Obviously I'm a singer and not a graceful dancer. xD

And, again for those of you that care, I've been accepted to the Orange County High School of the Arts and I start this fall. Which means that I'll really be elbow deep in creative energy. Hopefully it'll make me update stuff more often. xDD


No one knew anything about April. No one really cared to. No one even knew her last name. Or if she had one. She'd always been that one girl in grade school that got gum stuck in her hair and signs taped to her back. Her dad was in jail. Her mom was an alcoholic. She didn't know any better. When high school came around, she seemed to have grown overnight from the awkward little girl who got picked on, to the one who did the bullying.

April was never a pretty girl. She wasn't ugly, per sé, just one of those girls who hid behind makeup. Every morning when she woke up she'd paint her face varying shades of shocking. Cat eyes to her temples some days, bright green eyeshadow other days. Some days she wore red lipstick and some days she wore black. She started to write poetry and hang out in the coffee houses. She performed her poems on open mic nights and talked to the moody boys who wore eyeliner. And the ones that had bands.

The people who knew her before the heroin would have called her a free spirit -- the type of girl who would have gone dancing naked in the streets just because it was warm outside for once. That was before.

Because no one knew her, no one really knew what made April snap. It just seemed like one night she was dancing around in her flowy gauze skirts and writing poetry and the next day she was wearing leather skirts and thigh boots and partying until she passed out. Somewhere in there, heroin got involved. Then she got a boyfriend. It might have been love. She would never get the chance to figure it out.

Too bad she was so hooked on the smack that she didn't care how she was getting it or where her needles had been. Too bad her boyfriend was too.

April wasn't a sad girl after the heroin. It just made everything that much stronger. Now she could party harder, drink more, smoke more, use more. More sex, more music, more parties, more guys.

That was why her boyfriend, Roger's friends referred to April as 'Death On Two Legs'.