"Next stop, Porter Square." The lifeless voice crackled over the intercom, breaking the desired silence. He snuck a look at the only other occupant of the car. Even as the train slowed to a screeching halt, she didn't move. Nick sighed and shifted to a low slouch. He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed out the window and into the black. He just wanted to be alone. Was that so much to ask?

He had left the hotel with nothing, save for several dollars to buy tokens with. He just needed two; one to get on and ride and one to get back. But what was he getting back to? Shit. As sure as he was sitting there, Mandy was calling all over the hotel looking for him. And for what reason? So she could bitch at him again, screaming that he didn't love her and embarassing im in front of everyone? He didn't wanna deal with that, not at all.

His heart was heavy and he didn't know why. He didn't know why life was hurting so much, so much that sometimes he just wanted to cry. Of course, Mandy didn't understand. Everytime he had tried to talk to her about he crappy he felt, it ended up with her hands down his pants; saying in that absoulutely *grating* voice that she could make it all better. It was nice the *first* time, to be able to just lie back and not even worry about anything but getting himself off. But after that, it just became a pain. She didn't wanna talk to him. In fact, she just wanted him to shut up. Most times, he did just that and let her do whatever she wanted to him. Sometimes it happened for him, sometimes it didn't. And boy did she get mad when it didn't; crying and whining that he didn't love her and didn't think she was pretty and was probably screwing some fucking groupie behind her back.

Truth was that, well, all of that was true, except for the fucking a groupie part. He had had no interest in screwing anybody recently. Nick didn't feel like telling that yes, in fact, he *didn't* think she was that pretty and he sure as hell didn't love her. He just wasn't up to opening that particular can of worms. Maybe he was jaded and cynical, but he just wanted someone to talk to, at least for right now. He was tired of all the bullshit. A girl who didn't give a shit about what he did or what his name was or how much money was in his bank account. That was what he wanted more than anything.

But that was impossible, or so it seemed. His face was everywhere. He hadn't run into a girl that hadn't been after some part of his fame. Nick closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. He had been thinking entirely too much lately and it was giving him a headache. Maybe he could get some sleep. The motion of the train had started to get to him and he dozed fitfully in his plastic seat.

He woke with a start as his cheek came in contact with the cool stickiness of the linoleum floor of the car. He heard the distinctive crunch of metal against metal, then the car went black. Nick picked himself up off the floor very slowly, painfully aware of the throbbing in his cheek. "Son of a BITCH." He sat back against something and held his face. His hand came away sticky with warmth. Blood.

Nick's stomach lurched violently. Blood always made him puke. He fought back against the risibg bile in his throat. What the fuck had happened? The car wasn't moving at all and was tilted slightly. He strained to see out the windows, but only blackness met him. He wasn't even sure he was looking in the right direction. He pressed his hand against where he thought the blood was coming from, hoping to stop whatever bleeding was happening. It wasn't going to fast, so he couldn't have been that hurt. Silence wrapped around him like a thick blanket. He was alone.

No. There had been a girl. Where was she? He listened carefully for a moment and soft sobbing reached his ears. He cleared his throat. "He-hello? Are you okay?" He was met with stifling silence, then a sniffle. "I hit my head. And I get scared in the dark."



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