She held her pocket knife closer to her even though blood dripped from the blade. The hand holding it was shaking but she couldn't seem to calm herself. She had just killed a man in cold blood and witnessed another being shot in the head. There were actually brains splattered against her mocha colored walls. She slumped further down the wall. She had never been one to cry but at that exact moment she couldn't think of anything better to do. What was she going to do? How was she going to salvage this? It seemed like she was just getting her life back in order. She was finally over her addiction and she had gotten into a rhythm at the gas station.

And then this happened.

And she didn't even know why.

Harry took a look at the pair of dead thugs on her living room floor but quickly looked away again. They were both black and both had bandanas wrapped around their faces to cover everything but their eyes. It was obvious to her that it had been a planned attack. They had been waiting around the corner for her. If they had wanted to rob her they would have just busted the door in and took what they wanted. No. This was personal.

This was personal and she had no idea why. She hadn't done anything to anyone that she knew of. It just didn't make sense. She wasn't even important to anyone in any gangs or mafias.

"So you want to tell me why I just shot some black fucker in my apartment building?"

She had forgotten about Billy, forgotten that he had saved her life. What if he hadn't been there? She would be cold and dead on her living room floor instead of the two large men. She choked on her answer and had to cough to clear her throat. What was she supposed to tell him anyway? She had no idea why the two men had tried to kill her. She didn't know why someone would go through the trouble of finding where she lived and waiting for her to get back.

"I don't know," she managed to say, which apparently wasn't the right answer. Billy slammed his fist into the wall, the one that wasn't still holding his gun.

"Don't fucking lie to me. You know how much trouble I have to go through to clean this shit up?"

She wanted to puke. What had she gotten herself into? She was attacked by one gang just to get saved by another. She knew how these things worked. She would be in Billy's debt now. He would expect something from her especially if he was going to clean up after her mess in her own apartment.

"I'm gonna make a call and when I get back you better fucking be ready to tell me something." His nostrils flared at her and she shrunk in on herself even more, pulling the pocket knife dangerously close to her chest.

Making a call didn't sound like such a bad idea. If she could get a hold of Jerry and Bobby before Billy came back, they would be able to contact someone else to help her clean up the mess. And they would both be able to figure out why she had been attacked and by whom. They would protect her. And she trusted them more than she would ever trust Billy.

She looked around the living room floor, gagging when she laid eyes on the large pool of blood in the middle of the room. She found her cell phone beside the bigger man's body; the one Billy had shot in the head. She quickly crawled over to it on her hands and knees, never letting go of her pocket knife. She avoided the blood on the floor as best she could and turned her eyes the other way when she got closer to the body. She really didn't want to see the inside of the black man's head. She let her hand grope around the floor wildly until she felt her cell phone under her fingers. She snatched it up without hesitation and flipped it open.

She hit the one on her speed dial and quickly put the phone up to her ear, hoping to hear Jerry's familiar voice any moment now. When all she got was his voice mail she hit the end button on her phone in frustration and then hit the number two on her speed dial. She heard the ringtone immediately and began begging to the higher forces that Bobby would answer.

"What's up, baby girl?"

"Oh, God!" She didn't know if she said it in fear or in celebration but as she said it she felt a tear fall down her cheek.

"What?" Bobby was alert and immediately no longer sounding tipsy. "What's going on?" His voice had a sharp edge to it and Harry took comfort in it. That tone of voice meant he was ready to do anything for her.

"I was attacked." She didn't really know how else to put it. "They were waiting for me outside my apartment."

"Who was?" He was angry now, not just alert but about to go into a fit of rage.

"These two black guys. They were wearing bandanas over their faces. I swear they were waiting for me. It wasn't just a coincidence." She tried not to break down into a fit of sobs. She just wished Bobby was there with her, to put an arm around her and tell her everything was going to be okay and that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her.

"Alright, I believe you. What happened to them?" It sounded like Bobby was moving. For a few seconds the sound of music came through the receiver and then faded out and then she could hear wind.

"I s-s-stabbed one of them," she stuttered and then cursed at herself. "I carry a pocket knife with me."

"Good girl," he said lowly and she knew he meant it. He was proud of her for taking care of herself. "And the other one?"

"Shot. And not by me. I need your help," she took a deep breath. "I know you know I live next to a gang leader, Bobby. He shot him. Billy Darley shot the other black guy. And now he's trying to get people to clean up the bodies. I'm scared, Bobby. I don't know what he'll do."

"Fuck!" She heard Bobby curse loudly into the phone. There was silence on the other end for a minutes before she heard a loud bang, almost as if Bobby had punched something. "You stay put. I'm gonna call Jerry and get back to you, ok? He'll be over as soon as he can. I'll make sure of it."

"Bobby, please," she found herself saying, even though she didn't want to. What had she gotten herself into? She had never been involved with anything like this before. "I killed a guy!" She found herself saying.

She didn't get the chance to say more or to hear Bobby's response. Her phone was ripped from her grip a few seconds later and she flinched and whirled around screaming. She landed in the pool of blood sitting next to the bodies but she tried to ignore the sticky feel of it under her hands and focus on the big, bald, intimidating man in front of her.

"Who did you call?"

"My family," she answered before she could stop herself. She moved her hand up so that it was holding her pocket knife in front of her. His eyes laughed at her. His eyes told her her little pocket knife wouldn't help her when it came to him.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He flipped the phone open and began to check her call list.

"The Mercers," she answered without thinking.

"Are they why you're in this fucking mess? Am I cleaning up their fucking mess?" His nose flared again and Harry took that as a sign that he was very, very angry.

"No. I promise." She hated the way her voice had a tone of begging in it. "They don't know why I got attacked. And I don't either."

"I still don't fucking believe you." He stormed towards her and she swung the knife at him out of instinct. She watched almost in slow motion as it cut through his shirt and into his skin, leaving a large, seeping gash in its wake. He wasn't fazed even a little bit and continued to grab her by her arm and hall her up. He slammed her against the nearest wall and ripped the knife out of her hand just as her phone began to ring.

"Jerry," he read out loud as he looked down at the front screen of her phone. "Who is that?" He demanded, shoving her harder into the wall.

"He's a friend of mine."

"A friend? What do you mean a friend?"

She wasn't sure how to answer. If this guy really didn't know what friends were then she thought she'd have a tough time explaining it to him. "His mother takes care of me," she opted to say instead. "She's basically a saint. She adopted four of the most fearsome boys in the system years ago. Jerry was one of them."

"The Mercers?" Billy guessed. Harry nodded her head quickly.

"Please, you have to answer. They're gonna get really worried. And then they're going to come looking for me." She tried to wrench herself out of his grip but he was too strong for her.

"You're not goin' anywhere until I know what the fuck is goin' on and why I just killed a guy for you." He tightened his grip on her arm and few seconds later he was pulling her behind him and toward his own apartment.

"You didn't have to kill him for me," she protested, dragging her heels.

"Yeah, you're right."