Chapter I

Sasha had downed at least half a bottle of whiskey while walking along the edge of Paleto Bay. Her mind had been in a state of fog for at least a few hours now. Just enough to remember the week prior. Her footprints in the sand lead to solid enough ground and to an open face of Cassidy Creek. Raton Canyon bore straight ahead. The Chiliad Mountain State Wilderness surrounding her.

Several more swigs were taken. Continuing to alter her stabilized mindset. The grip on her bottle had slipped, smashing into shards just below her feet. "Fuck." Sasha groaned to herself aloud. "That was $20 down the drain. My favorite brand too."

Stumbling to the ground, Sasha wanted nothing to do with reality while being kept grounded. Surely enough her body had built up a tolerance. Blinking, she felt the course sand between her fingertips. Her brain had been attempting to process. Moments had lingered as she brought her hand into view. A dark red liquid had stained her fingers.

Blood.

Was it her blood?

Had she been wounded?

Sasha shook her head to sober her mind. Frantically checking her body. No cuts or anything noticeable to be of greater concern. Confused, Sasha had attempted to follow the trail of red blood to its primary source. With great success her eyes had locked on target.

A shadowed figure had been gravely wounded and washed ashore. Sasha's feet had given chase. The blood trail now growing thicker at its source. Through her sobering eye sight, Sasha had gingerly lifted the injured accomplice into her hold. Unconscious, the figure she was cradling appeared to be a middle aged figure. His blood being drained from his pale flesh.

There had been a rough crunch under their weight. Glancing down, Sasha took notice that it had been a pair of Aviator Sunglasses. They must had been his. By how they crunched, Sasha confirmed that they were pretty much obliterated. There was no clear indication of his state. Without proper light, all she knew was that her male companion was terribly injured. Just injured enough to lose a large amount of blood.

Police sirens had broke Sasha's concentration. "Hold tight, pal. I'll be back soon enough." She spoke. slipping off her black leather jacket and attempting to camouflage his body into the given environment. "They might be after him." She concluded. "Damn. In any other situation... why did it have to be someone like him?"

Sasha gave am extended sigh as her brain fog temporarily lifted. She had a small window to take advantage of her given time. Hopefully before the previous shots of whiskey had smacked what reality she grounded herself. Dashing to her Pegassi Vacca, Sasha drove along the path to where her male companion was located.

Pulse or not, Sasha had loaded her male companion into her vehicle. Her night of drinking cut short. The universe not giving her answers otherwise. Pulling the seat-belt across his body, Sasha made her way back to snatch her leather jacket. There had been a bright, blinding light beamed directly into her face. Subconsciously, she had did her best to shield her face.

Sasha's time had reached it's limit. "Good Evening, Ma'am." An LSPD Officer announced his arrival. "May I ask your business here?"

Sasha had cold sweat forming on her face. If the officer would simply observe the area. They would take notice of the blood downstream. By the make of their police cruiser, they had come from Los Santos. Stingy bastards as they were. It was their job. So Sasha did what she did best: Lie. "Just a romantic evening, officer. Making my way home with my drunk husband. I think he drank a little too much."

The only thing she could pray for was that the officer could buy the forgery of such an improvised tale. This had to buy her time for escape. At least for a few nights if suspicion was at stake. Maybe enough for the officer to take notice of the model, make and spray of her vehicle.

Thankfully fate smiled upon her this evening. The officer had clicked off his blinding light. "I'm assuming you're okay to drive then, ma'am?"

"Nothing to worry about, officer." She responded with little slur. Thankfully this had not been her first encounter with the law.

"Thank you, ma'am. Have a nice evening and drive safely."

"You as well, officer."

The officer in question with his partner had entered their vehicle, turned around and drove off into the distance. Sasha had taken a moment to breathe deep until her escape route had been clear. Climbing into her Pegassi, she turned her attention towards her male companion. "That was a close one, friend. Now the only question remains: Who the hell are you, anyway?"

Arriving into Paleto Bay's small town, Sasha absorbed herself back into her element. She made headway to her primary safehouse: 4401 Procopio Drive. Sasha knew it wasn't exactly home, but was a comfortable solitude. It had still been home otherwise. Pulling into her garage, Sasha unbuckled herself.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?" Her voice echoing in dead air.

Climbing out of the driver side, Sasha made her way out of her garage. Early in the morning, though at the crack of dawn had just began lighting its horizon. Closing the main entrance of her garage, Sasha cleared a pathway to get her male companion to safety. Unlocking and leaving her front door open, she returned to her companion at a moment's notice.

Unbuckling her male companion, Sasha focused all of her strength into carrying a man who was obviously twice her size and weight. Making haste, she was instantly weakened getting him into her bedroom. Pushing herself and the limits harbored inside, Sasha wasted no to in giving her companion an improvised field dressing. His body being much worse than anticipated.

Sasha's male companion had several bullet holes. Entry points as to where he had been shot. All across his back left shoulder. Battered and scarred, she felt more than a strange obligation to assist this man who was now in her care. Dashing through into her small kitchen, Sasha had gathered small makeshift tools that could assist her current goal.

Breaking into her bathroom, Sasha had snatched up one of her first aid kits. "Never thought I would have to ever use this." She had commented to herself.

Hours had droned as Sasha did everything to her best knowledge regarding her companion's state. She pulled out bullets, cleaned up his wounds and wrapped his chest in her makeshift field dress bandage. Knowing it had dug into him deep, Sasha knew that all he had to deal with were scars and reminders of the recent past. It was the best she had to offer from her skills and experience. Hopefully avoiding all and any infection if at all possible.

Settling her companion to rest, Sasha's feet guided her into the messy living room owned. "Life doesn't get any better than this." Her sigh becoming distant and lost.

Sinking into her sofa, Sasha had checked her phone. Several missed calls and texts had greeted her screen. She snuffed. No one really needed her. It was them not knowing how to do their job and because of her bloodline and family... Sasha knew better. She used her left hand to toss her cell phone onto the coffee table in front of her.

Consciously snatching the same brand of whiskey she previously had, it wouldn't make up for the twenty bucks lost, but at least it was strong. Beside the bottle were prescribed medications. Given recent years, this was a new path she had been traveling. Yet in recent months the increase had no contest. Dark events shrouded her life. Ones out of her control. Yet the meds given were supposed to help. Something she had to endure until getting better.

With a few swigs, the meds had been swallowed with ease. Her right hand then reached for the TV Remote, turning on a random channel for background noise. Zoning to the comfort of such allowed her to completely embrace her solidarity lifestyle. "Not today." She mumbled to herself. "... or any other day in the near future. All I want is to be shut off to the world. I can't bare. I can't process."

Having her continue to drink herself into the void, heavy eyelids overtook her mind. Sasha lifted her legs upon the couch she settled into. She had been drifting into that abyss. From her perspective. Sasha wanted nothing more. Disorientation had consumed her mind. Something she welcomed.

"Sasha? Sasha, hey. Why haven't you answered your phone?" That had been a voice from the recent past.

"Forgive me, Marcello I just need time. Lance. I can't even process any of that. He was more than just a family friend, but a wonderful man I've known for over twenty years. What upsets me is that he didn't even-"

"Sasha. I know in my heart Lance had every greater intention not to tell you. Try not to be so upset. More than likely he had tried all he could to protect you. Even in the event of his death. Not talking about his illness-"

"Anyone else would declare it was selfish! Quite frankly I agree with them!"

"You've known the man all your life and this is how you judge him? Twenty years has you judge what is right? All I'm hearing is that you're allowing it to tear you on the inside."

Yet, by every pretense, it already had. Just another painful unsolved mystery added to her list she labeled experiences. The therapist in her perspective assigned to her was the easiest case. More so fattening the pockets of the greedy. For all the time in the world, Sasha fought all she could to keep hidden from the world.

Perhaps doping herself up and combining alcohol wasn't the greatest idea conceived. Sasha tackled her best to assure all that she was going through was all temporary. That line had been crossed awhile ago. It wasn't addiction in her mind. In her mind and since childhood there had been a delayed process when it resulted in trauma. The best she could do is close the world out around her.

Sasha hid away from the world, often enjoying the solitude. It's how she knew how to cope. Something her entire family and friends hated about her. Though preferable by her own standards. Isolation had been more than a routine. It had been her lifestyle. Knowing all of this, perhaps made her a hypocrite. Mainly because with the right person in mind their company was appreciated.

Not many friends survived her or her "attitude". Sasha herself could just confirm that she was a very emotional and passionate woman. Especially when it came down to drive, conditions and the overall goal of certain situations. This was just who she was... if people didn't like her it that wasn't her problem.

Memories of Lance echoed in her mind. When it came to her own well being Lance had been one of the rare ones in her life. Like a favored uncle, Lance was always one to protect Sasha. Putting her needs before his own. Love had no bounds with them. It was those cherish memories that tears formed on Sasha's face. The tear had automatically streamed down her face, making her face red in the process.

Lance's death had been so sudden. The last time she saw him he appeared fine. Lance even smiled through their most recent meeting. All the pain she had been enduring wasn't the fact he didn't tell her didn't weigh on her mind. It was that she couldn't thank him for all he had done for her in the past two years.

"Not today." She repeated through her sobbing. "... or any other day in the near future. All I want is to be shut off to the world. I can't bare. I can't process." There had been a part of her that sought a response, but all that echoed back was silence. The whiskey that fogged her mind had robbed her remaining thoughts. Sasha's left hand that held her whiskey glass loosened its grip. "There's nothing I can do to bring you back."

Michael had towered over his savior. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." Suspension of disbelief had engorged his senses. "So it ends up being a deadbeat drunk that ended up saving my ass."

Within Sasha's deep slumber, Michael lingered on her details. Giving careful consideration for his female caretaker, his hands snatched up the bottle of whiskey and her glass. Checking if there had been any left, he placed them on the coffee table in front of her. Empty glass and a quarter of whiskey left, Michael felt sympathy. "Sorry, kid. I really wish we were meeting under better, even different circumstances."

Retreating back into her bedroom to retrieve his shirt. He stalled his thoughts for just a moment. "Perhaps it would have been better not to have met you at all." Michael dashed his way through the entryway of Sasha's home. Being frozen as he had glanced back towards her unconscious body once more.

Michael DeSanta knew he was free to leave, but the first wave of guilt had questioned his clear judgement. From an outside perspective Michael wasn't obligated to return the favor. Pure luck had assured his survival. Even if a drunk bastard had to assure of his life. In a reflex reaction, Michael had slammed his forehead against the wood of the door.

Several possibilities had still gripped his judgement. More so now screaming what the right decisions he needed to make. Michael knew that it was a choice not associate with people like her. She could be more a liability. "This woman doesn't know me. As grateful as I am that she found me. It's best for her and myself that I leave. I just drive myself home. I never existed." Michael continued to question his morality.

Glancing to his right, he saw Sasha's Pegassi Keys. Snatching her keys, Michael had bolted out the door. Seeing her car hadn't been parked inside, he knew that her car had to be in the garage. Luckily for him that in her drunken state the door remained unlocked. Entering her vehicle, Michael had checked around for anything of greater use. Cash more specifically.

Checking the sun visor, a photograph had dropped into his lap. Michael glanced at the photo. His view continued to switch from the photo to the rear view mirror. It took time to notice how much of a rough shape his body appeared. Scuffs, bruises and cuts. His chest wrapped in a breathable wrap. Enough to assure the bullet wounds he received wouldn't infect his body or at least delayed it until he got proper medical attention.

Michael examined the photograph once more taking notice that the people in the photo had been of his caretaker and another person he couldn't label. Had she been married? It was hard to say. Sasha had been smiling, wrapped in warm with someone who she held close to her heart. "By the looks of it, she had to be married." Michael scoffed at his commentary, shoving the photograph back into the sun visor.

Taking a deep breath, Michael had stared back into the rear view mirror. "Fuck." He spoke aloud, knowing all of this had just bee wrong. "FUCK!" He raged a little louder, gripping his steering wheel, continuing to slam both of his hands into the wheel. The car itself honking back in short bursts through his anger. "Damn it. Damn it... DAMN IT!"

Through confirmed morality, Michael slipped his shirt back over his body. Existing the Pegassi and reentering Sasha's home. Sneaking back through the entry way, Michael rejoined his caretaker, taking the glass she had been downing whiskey through. Bottle included. Sitting in a nearby lounge chair. Michael poured himself the last drops of the whiskey. "Fuck, kid. You owe me one." Having drank whatever hard liquor contents.

Michael sat in that chair. Knowing well that this was going to be one of the worst decisions made in his lifespan while still breathing.