It was all a blur. A dizzying, nauseating blur. While Gabby sat at the edge of her bed, she stared at the wall in front of her. Brown wood and nothing special, which was exactly how she felt. After a night with Spot when every bit of emotion had surfaced, there was nothing left. She was numb, numb to everything. No happiness, no guilt, no rage, no sadness. Tyce's voice in the back of her mind had gotten the better of her. Although Spot had showered her with affection on his way out and an absolute promise that he would see her on Monday, Gabby was a lifeless form on her messy bed in her messy clothes staring at her plain wall.

The fire escape from her bedroom window rattled and Gabby could hear the person's weight pressuring the iron. She knew who it was, so it was no surprise when Tyce had opened her window and slid right into her bedroom without warning. No greeting was made, not from what she heard.

"It's fuckin' hot in here," Tyce complained as he stood up on the dusty floorboards. He lifted the window to its highest length, and walked over to the other side of the bed and opened the other. "Aren't ya burnin' up? It's hotter than the sun in here."

Gabby's eyes slowly surveyed her long-sleeved shirt all the way down to the long skirt that reached her black shoes. Really, she hadn't noticed the temperature, among other things as well. Tyce stared at her and walked back over to the window, grabbing a bundle of clothing from the fire escape. He tossed it onto the bed next to her.

"Those are what ya're wearin' tomorrow at the factory."

"What? I'm not going…" Gabby answered slowly.

"Yeah, ya are." Tyce made his way in front of her and placed a hold on either side of her shoulders to talk to her intensely. He bent down to her level and his silvery, cold eyes were connected with hers. "Tomorrow ya're gonna be a Queens boy and when we're in there you gonna hide in a room I'll put ya in."

Gabby stared at him for a few moments. "Why do I even have to go at all? My job's done."

"Because," Tyce began as he curled a piece of her hair behind her ear. "Ya're my good luck charm." He kissed her cheek and came back to her. "Plus I want you to know the feelin' of complete satisfaction fer a job well done when seein' Brooklyn be killed off. I want you to realize just how important you were to this whole thing, you an' Ace."

As Tyce spoke his last words, Gabby looked directly into his strikingly lucent eyes. The clear and lucid color made an inner rage form within her being. The translucent hues of silver and gray endowed anyone a view of Tyce's soul: empty and transparent. A burst of clarity came to Gabby's mind and it surged from her brain and onto her lips in the coldest whisper: "I hate you."

Tyce looked at her for a moment and he stepped back. "You hate me."

Gabby looked coldly at him through the tops of her eyes and did not utter a word. I want to kill you. Without movement of any kind in her face, a lone tear dropped from her eye and rolled numbingly down her cheek. I want you dead.

"Don't forget who's been keepin' you alive through all 'a this," Tyce told her. "I brought ya here and I can easily take you out, if ya know what I mean." He moved forward to her swiftly and grabbed the back of her neck with his strong hand, pinching her skin with his fingers and his thumb placed at the middle of her throat. "Don't mess it up fer me or I will kill you."

Gabby's jaw locked and her empty mind did not fish out a single word. Tyce loosened his grip on her gradually and stepped away. As minutes passed and Tyce continued on his declaration of how great it will be once Brooklyn is gone, Gabby's fervor for Tyce's death grew rapidly. He walked all around her apartment arrogantly, spouting out his ideal borough arrangement. Gabby sat silently in her bedroom. He spoke about friends he had in Boston that would sure enough help him take care of things if ever they got so bad in his utopia of futuristic power.

Boston, who the hell would come all the way from Boston to help New York? she wanted to ask him. Why would people in Boston care? Why the hell Boston? What is wrong with these newsboys?

As Tyce named his connections in Boston, much to the dislike of her, Gabby looked up and noticed Tyce standing near the fireplace looking out the window. She was unsure of why her eyes had taken her to that particular place, but she stared at it for several moments. The mantle was brown, the fire was dead, the bottom was black. There was a heavy, brass candlestick on the mantle. Gabby took to her feet. For her own sake, she was going to kill Tyce. Her eyes focused onto the shelf above the fireplace and the candlestick's curved features and weight, as she made her way towards it as if possessed. Tyce's speaking was drowning out into a slurring melody.

Gabby reached the fireplace and, much to her advantage, Tyce's back was turned to her. Her steady hand reached for the candlestick and she slowly wrapped her fingers around it until it was firmly within her grip. She stepped forward and raised her arm to make the candlestick collide with the back of his head. Gabby Lawrence, in the living room, with the candlestick. Victim: Tyce Nichols.

Every angry fiber of her being broke loose as her arm began making its way down forcefully. But just as she was to satisfy her craving for murder, Tyce, as if predicting the event on the dot, turned around and grabbed her wrist to stop it from hitting him. Gabby caught her breath and she exhaled heavily in short breaths. Her wrist felt as though the bones were shattering in Tyce's grasp and her arm began to shake. His eyes were burning with anger and the candlestick dropped to the floor with a deafening thud. Without warning, Tyce shoved Gabby in front of him and he backed her against the closed window.

"You do know how easily I can open this thing, don'tcha?" Tyce questioned viciously. "Open this and just let ya slip from my grasp?"

Gabby's teeth chattered in her mouth and her whole body trembled with fear.

"That's what I thought." Tyce let go of her and walked toward the bedroom. "I'm pickin' you up before six tomorrow. Be ready and don't try anythin' stupid."

Gabby stood against the wall for what seemed like an eternity. Tomorrow would be determined on the Brooklyn's strength and courage, both of which she completely lacked. Tomorrow was going to decide many fates for the lives she knew. Tomorrow was everything she had done wrong.