I do not own Silas, I do own the "mysterious" girl though…

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Darkness… everywhere…

The city was consumed by it… The slush – a mixture of black dirty snow, salt and yellow chemicals – squelched under the crowd's feet.

Rush hour…

People - indifferent and ignorant beings, selfish, pathetic - were trying to find their way to their homes through the mud.

A dark alley…She had to walk by it every goddamn night.

The headache got stronger with every step she made, her eyes narrowed – she couldn't see a thing… Shhh! Wait, someone was in the filthy alley… She heard a muffled scream. A light – someone lit a cig – a grey trail of toxic smoke rose above three suspicious shadows… A black hooded figure groveled at its aggressors' feet, in pain… He stretched his arms towards her, hoping she would help him. She had to hide quickly or else she would have the stranger's fait. Moan – kick – moan… Moan – kick – moan… She had to close her eyes; she didn't want to see this agonizing creature...

A weak whisper, choking…

Silence…

She heard one of the aggressors spit, his partners laughed at this grotesque and humiliating joke. Another kick… another spit…

Silence…

She finally opened her eyes, they were widening in horror, pain and sorrow. She felt tingles down her spine. The sight of the agonizing man, the dark puddle beneath him, his choking provoked nausea. She stood up in hesitation – what should she do? Help? What if he was dangerous?

Another cough, a moan… She had to be quick… She had to help! Imagine how he'd thank her later… How he'd worship her…!

Eugene was an egocentric child, absorbed in her own fantasy world filled with knights and heroes, paladins that fought evil and saved dames in distress. She hadn't thought of anyone but herself in her entire life, even when she was trying to help someone else – in that case she would think how great she was since she was helping another human being. Her narcissism wasn't based on her looks though – she was quite a regular fifteen years old girl. She had light brown hair, flat, thin and lifeless; her skin was oily, unhealthy and unclean. Small freckles covered her slightly hooked nose and her pink cheeks. Eugene's face was very lively, when she was angry every wrinkle on her face expressed that emotion, when she laughed, her cheeks, her eyes, her thick untidy eyebrows seemed to respond. Untidy… Yes, untidy would be the word that described best Eugene – untidy hair, untidy clothes, untidy brown hairs just above her upper full lip… Perhaps the only things that distinguished her from the rest of the teenage egocentric schoolgirls were her eyes – big grey eyes, framed by huge eyelashes. Those bright eyes could change from dark grey to azure in an instant – they were her pride.

Her classmates didn't respect her and didn't understand her desire of being great, the best. She wasn't a prodigious child, yet she tried her best and got excellent grades. Her 5's gave her an enormous pleasure; her ego and her desire to triumph were satisfied. Then again she was so competitive she drove people away, she had no real friends, she preferred dreaming about dragons, angels and demons in her isolated world. Perhaps Eugene's father contributed to this isolation… He was a priest, kind and understanding to the people of his parish and a true despot when it came to decisions in his own family. He made Eugene move to Moscow, so that she could finish a good school and enter a prestigious university. Every single letter of his was filled with threats and anger – no friends, no fun, no hobby, no boyfriends - she had to finish her studies before "tasting" any of those mundane pleasures.

Pleasure… The only way she could feel it if she won in a competition… or helped…

Her ego and her desire to be a hero and aid the injured and the weak led her to Silas. Even though she was scared and didn't want to bring the poor man into her apartment she didn't see another option. The cuts were deep, the albino's skin had a shade of pale blue – he was freezing. Some bruises were quite old – most of them infected. One wound in particular caught her attention – a deep one caused by a strange sharp object on the stranger's right thigh. The flesh was so infected the cuts didn't stop bleeding; she could see the actual muscle tissue contract in a chain of spasms, microscopic interlaced veins pump blood to every single cell of the damaged skin around the wound. It was sickening. Eugene wasted meters of bandages, practically liters of alcohol and iodine to stop the bleeding… Every single night she would give the monk a bath with medicine herbs… She enjoyed those private hours, when she could concentrate on her patient's bruises, examine every single healing wound... Eugene watched his white skin stiffen under her thin slightly crooked fingers, the man's chest rising and falling, as if he was holding his breath, then letting it go and after several seconds gasping for air in a strange spasmodic movement. His battle with death, the way this stranger fought for his life was fascinating. It was quite flattering for the teenage girl to be able to take care of such a strong and powerful man, both physically and mentally…

Eugene's dream-land was crushed into thousands of pieces… in the merciless hands of her wounded monk.

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Well, that's the second chapter… And I am sorry if there is no action whatsoever in it, but I write this fic for my own sick pleasure and I looove describing emotions, characters, violent situations, etc, so there will be a lot of that and not that much of REAL action. Sorry. Thanks for the reviews, I felt loved.

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