I am sooooo sorry. I know this took forever to post and, believe me, your replies have not gone unnoticed. School has just been busy as hell with preparations for testing and finals. I finally got a reprieve and some time to continue writing.

Anyway, I'm glad your still reading and I hope you continue. I'd hate to lose my readers. Again, I'm sorry this took for freaking-ever to post.

This is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy.

The Crow and The Dove

Chapter 4:

Sarah opened her eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the darkness. She sat up stiffly, wincing slightly as her shoulder resisted the desire to move. It was most likely the middle of the night and Sarah had to get moving.

She registered that she was in a bed which triggered the memory of Albrecht's help. She knew where she was even though she'd rather not be there.

Carefully, Sarah swung her legs over the side of the bed and placed her feet on the cold floor. She rose steadily, new strength keeping her up. Sarah looked around to make sure that she was alone but dimly noticed that the shadows on the dresser had changed from boxy and bottle-like forms to something bulky.

On quiet feet, Sarah moved towards the dresser, her eyes picking out the form in the dark. It was her clothes, washed and folded neatly on top of the dresser. Beside it was a new backpack full of something. Sarah reached out her hand and felt the bag. It caved under her touch. It had to be more clothes. Count on Albrecht to look out for her. She moved her hand and hit something harder. She felt it quizzically and found that it was a container of some kind, most likely full of soup.

Sarah smiled in the dark. No matter where she went or who she messed with, Albrecht always seemed to have her back.

Sarah quickly changed into her old clothes, leaving the nightgown folded on the bed. Albrecht had given her enough. She didn't want to take any more from him. She soundlessly slipped the backpack onto her back and started for the door.

In the distance she could still hear the soft murmur of the radio. Even louder were Albrecht's snores. Sarah crossed the floor to the front door, smiling gratefully at the man who had saved her from a cold night in the rain.

"Thank you," she whispered in a voice barely audible to her own ears and slipped outside, closing the door behind her with only a small creak to tell of her departure.

The rain still fell, but lighter this time: a soft drizzle that felt cool against her skin. Sarah pulled her hood over her head, hitched up her shoulders, and started running. She had to get home before Thrash found her wandering the streets. To ensure she wouldn't get caught, Sarah took a shortcut through the cemetery.

Instead of rushing through to get home, Sarah veered away from her path to return to her friends' graves. Along the way, she bent down among the other graves to pick up a few flowers from the bouquets that decorated the cold ground. Since she didn't have the money to pay for a bouquet of flowers herself, the least she could do was honor her friends with some flowers that came from another's pocket.

With her hands full of an assortment of flowers, Sarah made a bee-line towards the two familiar graves that stood next to each other. She stood before them and split her bouquet in half. She placed one half on Shelley's grave and the other on Eric's grave.

"I'm ok," Sarah assured her friends. "Albrecht took care of me. And apparently he was a new girlfriend."

Sarah smiled at the quiet graves. It was normal for her to talk to the only people who had ever taken care of her. It made it seem like they were still there, watching over her from someplace else.

"Good night," she said with a wave and started back on the path towards her home.

At the gate of the graveyard, Sarah scanned the streets for any sign of Thrash's gang. The streets were empty. Maybe Thrash had given up on her tonight. She could only hope. Sarah effortlessly hopped the fence – with only a twinge of pain in her shoulder – and ran for the cover of the shadowed alleys.

Carefully, quietly; keeping all her senses alert, Sarah crept to an old, burned down apartment complex. It was the building where Shelley and Eric used to live.

This building had been left alone for seven years. Everyone believed that it was haunted ever since Eric had come back from the dead to wreak havoc on those that had wronged him. No one dared come near it let alone tear it down or try to rebuild it. Everyone – even the most vile gangs – gave the building a wide berth, making it the ideal place for Sarah to hide in solitude.

Sarah snuck around to the back of the building where a few boards had been pulled away by her hands. She slipped through the opening and started up the creaky and rotted steps to the top floor. She made her way to her friends' former apartment.

The door had long fallen away but Sarah had made her own makeshift door by placing a large piece of cloth on the wall. She pushed the cloth away and entered the room, letting the cloth fall back in place behind her.

It wasn't much but it was home. She had redecorated a little to suit her means of survival. Random junk was strewn all over the floor: items Sarah had acquired over the years to improve her chances of survival. Such things included food, wood for the fire, boxes of trash that Sarah had found useful, several worn blankets that served as her bed, and various containers and objects that served some sort of purpose for purpose for Sarah.

The broken window that opened its gaping mouth to the city had been hurriedly boarded up. It was a poor job, leaving many cracks for the wind and rain to get through. This too had been covered with cloth and cardboard.

Sarah lived like a homeless orphan – for that was what she was – but she lived and that was what mattered.

Sarah placed her backpack among a box of stolen clothes. Sill full from her last meal, Sarah left the soup in the bag as well as the clothes to keep them clean a little longer. She crawled to a large box that lay open on its side and curled up inside of it. She pulled the thin blankets around her, already shivering from the cold that infested the abandoned building. After all the running, her sore legs were tired and her shoulder ached. Sarah longed for sleep to take her but the pain kept it away. Desperate, Sarah did the only she could do to allow sleep to come to her.

She wrapped her hand around Shelley's ring and closed her eyes. She brought up the memories of her friends: the three of them together; happy. She thought of Shelley's laughter as she dangled a toy in front of Gabriel.

Sarah furrowed her brow. She didn't want to think about Gabriel, the pampered white cat that lived with Shelley and Eric. Gabriel had died long ago. Without anyone to properly care for him, he turned wild and died in the streets, as most former pets did.

Sarah changed the image to Eric's smile as he told one of his jokes and the way he played a song on his guitar. It was like the music flowed from his fingers to make the guitar sing. The song was who he was. He lived it. Shelley clapped her hands in amazement and Eric bowed. Then he jumped at Shelley, knocking her against the bed. Shelley shrieked with a wide grin on her face, begging Sarah to help her. Sarah ran over, tackling Eric and they both tumbled to the side. Freed, Shelley jumped over both of them, helping Sarah pin Eric to the ground, all of them laughing.

All of them laughing. Laughing. Laughing.

Sarah chuckled in her sleep, the joy from the memory warming her body as the rain fell outside.

A lone dove watched Sarah from a hole in the ceiling, cooing sadly at the sight of her. It flew inside the room and fluttered to a dry support beam. It ruffled its feathers comfortably and tuckered down to wait out the cold night, its eyes never leaving Sarah's form.

The crow could see what the dove saw even though it was far away, sitting in a tree in the cemetery. At the sight the dove gave it, the crow stood and flew off to find the grave it sought. It landed within seconds at the right grave and started pecking at the hard stone. Its beak drove deep into the stone using the dents that had been previously made by a crow six years ago.

Satisfied, the crow waited patiently, looking at the bright flowers that had been placed at the foot of the grave and, more importantly, the ground that lay beneath them.

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And so that's the latest chapter. As is foreshadowed, Eric is appearing next. I know most of you have been waiting for that and so have I.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Real quick I want to point out that the gang leader's name is in fact "Thrash" not "Trash." The last time I put "Trash" in the story was a typo and I apologize for that. I'll keep a better eye on how I spell his name. I also apologize for the other misspellings that wormed their way into my story. I hope that doesn't harm the appeal.

Well then, until next time. Hobey-ho!