All Gloria could do was cry. Christian tried to comfort her but before he could, she looked up at the crowd. "You heard Jimmy," she spoke with a commanding yet trembling voice, "now get back to your posts."

"Gloria, I'm sorry for this. It's my fault James--"

"Jimmy. He wanted to be remembered as Jimmy," she told him.

"Well, I shouldn't have took you to that party. It's all my fault your leader is dead. I'm sorry. How can I help?"

"Get a gun and kill as many fanatics as you can. That would help."

He thought about comforting her but decided she'd feel better if she was left alone.

The fanatics eventually gave up and retreated.

"Well that took long enough!" one of the members of the Underground complained, "and no thanks to her majesty who is busy crying for something that's all her fault!"

Christian couldn't stand people talking about Gloria that way. "How could you say it was her fault? Did she cause that fanatic siege?"

"What would you know? All you are is a junkie with a gun fighting to impress your girlfriend. That doesn't make you a saint." another member of the Underground attacked.

"She was just gone while something that had nothing to do with her happened. That doesn't make her a charlatan." he defended. I'm really to blame, he wished he could say but the words stuck in his mouth

Gloria stepped out of the room. "When do you suggest we give Jimmy a proper burial?" she asked.

"What would you care? You don't deserve to cry," one member of the Underground attacked.

"Yeah," another chimed in, "What happened to your soul? Do you still have a heart? If you wanna join James--"

"JIMMY! He wanted to be remembered as Jimmy!" Gloria screamed.

"fine then, if you wanna join Jimmy there are plenty of razor blades. Feel free to open your veins at any time."

They all started to cackle up in agreement. "honestly, how could you abandon us? I guess the sky is falling now. What's wrong? Your lifeboat of deception sailed away?"

Gloria wished she could just run away from all this hatred. It wasn't her fault. The fanatics would have attacked anyway. She started to remember the church kids she helped.

"where are those kids I saved from the burning church?" she asked

"Why? You wanna preach to the choir kids?" another member spat out. "there all getting patched up. All except that baby. Maybe if you were here they wouldn't be running around getting shot."

"SHUT UP! You were just quivering behind a gun and quite frankly, I didn't see you shoot anyone," she defended herself.

"Strong words for a deserter," yet another member commented.

This went on for a while until Gloria got real tired and crawled off to bed.

eventually, Gloria fell asleep. Christian placed a note and a small jar of pills under her pillow and kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you Gloria," he whispered to the sleeping girl. "I know you deserve better than me. I already caused you so much grief, please don't suffer anymore. I'll make sure you don't."

Gloria knew where she was. She was in the broken land of the insecure. She was crying as she tried to find her way back. Her mascara tears were dripping and so was blood from her side. She held her side and walked on. She tried to find a way to some place familiar. Every step she took felt like she was walking on blisters and sheers were stabbing into her feet. She ended up crawling till she found the Underground Headquarters and when she finally got there the members looked at her.

"Shame. She was so promising, too," complained one and aimed a gun to her head, "Sorry Gloria, nothing personal, just gotta do what's best."

And Gloria was shot in the head.

Then she woke up.

She lay back down and felt something under her pillow. She dug under it and felt a small plastic jar and a folded piece of paper. She unfolded the paper and read the writing.

The note read:

"Gloria,

I'm sorry I left. I didn't know what else to do. I screwed up your life enough, I don't wanna cause any more. I really love you, you treat me like an actual person. I don't deserve you, you're too good for me.

Christian"

He left, she thought. She looked at the jar. It was holding anti-depressants. Christian wrote a note on the label. "I'm sorry if this is offensive, but I thought they would help."

She wouldn't take the pills. She wouldn't be a lobotomized freak again.