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Guest Oxidizer

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Type of Story Oneshot

Rating T (L)

Characters Eve Jacobsen, Tracey Thompson

Genre Angst

Warning Contains themes of self-destruction and prostitution

Summary How Eve and Tracey met


The office door cracked open. A guard entered with a 14-year-old girl with a blank and emotionless face at his side, as he informed his superior. "Eve Jacobsen for you."

"Thanks," Anne Hates, the woman in charge of the foster home, smiled. "Mind waiting outside?"

The guard took heed of the elder's instructions and left the room. Eve turned around to watch before resuming focus on the person who looked out for the homeless, troubled and neglected kids.

"Morning, Eve." Anne smiled, making a gesture with her hand, motioning for the girl to take a seat in the vacant chair opposite the desk.

A rueful smile played across her lips as she cautiously replied. "Hi."

Not seeing much point in embracing the awkward silence that was bound to occur at any minute, Anne pressed on to the matter at hand. "I reviewed your case and I wouldn't advise it, but you're not a prisoner here either."

"So am I allowed?" A hopeful look invaded Eve's facial expressions. That tint of disappointed still reflected in her hazel eyes, preparing herself for the worse.

"One on condition." Eve braced herself for the woman's terms. She just knew she'd have to do something that she wouldn't like. "You're supervised."

Okay, maybe it wasn't as bad as she thought.

"I won't run away, I promise."

"I'm not worried about that," Anne clarified with a serene smile. "I just don't want you going there alone. We'll drive you there and back."

Eve stared at her in concern. "But I'll be alone at the grave, right? I mean, I'll have some privacy, won't I?"

"We'll keep an eye on you from a distance, yes." Anne chuckled harmlessly at the worries the girl underwent. She should wait 'til she's an adult, then she'd have something to worry about.

"Thank you so much." Eve expressed her gratitude with a slight bounce. "I really mean it. Thanks."

"I'll call you in the morning when the car arrives," Anne roused from behind her desk and rounded to place an arm around the girl's shoulder. "Don't let me down." She chuckled as she led the girl towards the door.

Eve looked up at her one last time and beamed. "I won't."

The locks drew back on the metal doors and a loud buzz accompanied as Nicky was escorted through the corridors of the detention centre. He came to a pause when the guard placed a hand on his shoulder.

The seventeen-year-old looked up at him expectantly. The guard, who's ID tag read Jason Madrox, clarified. "I'm sorry but I'm going to have to search you."

"Man, you're kiddin' me!" Nicky exclaimed in disquiet.

Jason empathized. "I don't make the rules."

Nicky sighed and squinted at the man suspiciously. "Ain't nothing dodgy, is it?"

"No," Jason chuckled harmlessly. He was the farthest thing from a threat. "I just need to make sure that you haven't got any contraband."

"I haven't." Nicky vowed earnestly, obviously not looking forward to being touched up by a guy who's at least ten years older than he is. Or anyone for that matter.

"We'll see," Jason sighed ruefully as he propped Nicky to hold his arms out. Removing the nightstick from his belt, the guard proceeded to prod the boy and touch him down for anything he may have been hiding. Nicky grimaced when the cool plastic ran down the inside of his legs and glared at his perpetrator.

Jason sighed and roused back on to his feet, followed by an apologetic stare. Nicky smirked and quirked his pierced eyebrow. "Told you."

"Let's go." The guard ushered him further through the corridor. An ominous door at the end, a plaque labeled Visiting Room nailed to the grey entrance.

"Nicky!" Eve exclaimed as she leaped up from the table and rushed towards him.

The dark-haired boy with perfect crystalline green eyes smiled ruefully. "Hey, Eve."

The teenage sociopath's excited tone faded slowly at the agitated aura that emanated from her infatuation. She motioned for him to sit at the table.

"I-I missed you," Eve stammered as she played with the sleeves on her shirt.

Nicky looked up at her awkwardly. A coy smile shot his way. "Yeah." Not enjoying the awkward silence that fell between them, he looked around and asked the first thing that came to his head; "How've you been?"

"Okay," Eve attempted to put on a brave face. Nicky wasn't fooling for her façade and looked at her apologetically. "You?"


Eve looked up at him and asked the question that had been playing on her mind since she received the visitor's order the previous week. "Why did you come?" She quickly stammered, clarifying, making sure that she wasn't coming off as ungrateful. "I mean, not that I'm not pleased, I am. I just wondered."

"Came to say I'm sorry I guess," Nicky shrugged awkwardly. Eve twisted her face in confusion at her infatuation's words. She needed clarification. "I don't blame you."

A genuine smile spread across the sociopath's lips as she looked up at him with a hopeful stare. "Really?"

"Yeah," Nicky scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Eve could feel the vibration of his feet systematically tapping the cold and sterile floor from underneath the table. He was nervous.

"So you're not mad at me?"

"No," Nicky sighed sullenly. "I'm just sorry I led you on somehow."

"You didn't." Eve confessed in a weak voice. Nicky looked up at her expectantly; was she better? "I know that now. I get attached too easily... I'm sorry."

Nicky smiled ruefully and hesitated at first but touched her hand. "Don't be. Just be good and get out of here."

"Thanks," Eve looked at him gratefully. An infectious smiled etched across her face. "It means a lot that you came."

"No problem."

The lights that shone from buildings and skyscrapers illuminated the caliginous metropolis of the city streets of Sydney. Glowing from the red light of a seedy sex shop was the outline of a boy in his late teens and the shadowed silhouette of a much older man, touching him inappropriately as the younger one departed.

From across the street, 21-year-old Dominique Sullivan watched as her friend, rentboy, 19-year-old Craig Sykes crossed the busy road, car headlights revealing his youthful face; tear-soaked.

"Hey, you okay?" The prostitute asked as she threw an arm around the blonde-haired boy, who wrapped his arms around his waist protectively.

Craig cut off the stream of tears that dampened his face, as he wiped at his red and swollen eyes. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Not one for beating round the bush, Dominique asked as sensitively as she could. "What'd you get?"

"$20." Was the blank response, Craig sniffed.

"Let's see what Trace got," She continued. "We can split it."

It didn't take long for them to find their friend. They worked the streets that lined the subway, Tracey's usual haunt was in the city's underground; you'd be amazed how much 'work' you could find there. It was dark and gritty, private and dangerous.

Standing at the entrance of the subway was 18-year-old Tracey Thompson, looking worse for wear, smoking a cigarette; that and her breath in the cold and crisp night fogged a ladder tracing to the stars.

Tracey nodded their way as Dominique rounded her off, taking the cigarette and taking a drag; Craig smiled ruefully through sad eyes. Glancing at him, Tracey gave him an apologetic look as she clocked on what he had just done. He asked. "What'd you earn tonight?"

"$15." The brunette revealed, walking towards him to put a comforting arm around the boy. The beginning of a slight smile drew across his cracked lips.

"Split it?" Dominique asked, passing the cigarette to Craig, who took it hungrily.

Tracey shrugged, "Fine by me."

"You okay?" Craig exhaled the nicotine and asked in the direction of the detective's daughter. She looked at him with a stern look, obviously not wanting to talk about it. "Right, stupid question."

Sighing, Dominique interjected. "We'll get by. We always do." She turned around to see her damaged friend's reaction. "How 'bout we order pizza tonight?"

"I'm not fussed." Tracey shrugged, taking the cigarette back and inhaling deeply. Closing her eyes, they fluttered as she used the small moment to block everything out. Ignorance really was bliss.

"What's up?" Craig looked at Tracey suspiciously in an apologetic manner. He could tell that there was something wrong; usually she was more... talkative. "Aside from the obvious. You seem sadder than usual."

"Sykes is right, Trace." Dominique noticed and leaned on the younger boy. "Spill."

Tracey ran a hand through her hair and sighed brokenheartedly. "I just miss my old life. It all suddenly dawned on me. I'll be okay."

"You don't have to say if you don't want to, but why all of a sudden?" Craig asked with a childlike naivete.

Looking at them both nervously, she hesitated until two sets of eyes pleaded her to open up. She could trust them. They looked out for each other. "This time last year my Dad threw me out." She took another long drag from the cigarette and sighed, exhaling in the process. "When one of my closest friends died."

"Sh*t," Dominique muttered quietly. "Sorry."

"Yeah, me too." Craig hypothetically kicked himself. How could he be so stupid? He just wanted someone else to talk about their problems to make his own, to blot out the memories of the previous 20 minutes. He didn't think. "Sorry, Trace."

"Don't worry 'bout it, I'll be okay."

Dominique bit her lip but curiosity got the better of her. "What happened to your friend?"

"Got in a fight with another of our friends; he was stabbed." Tears pricked at Tracey's eyes as she began to retell the tale of how everything turned to crap. The coldness froze and stung her eyes as she continued. She already started, no point holding back now. "After that the gang just split. Jamie, Nicky's killer, got arrested. Far as I know he's still in jail. It wasn't deliberate or nothin', it was an accident."

Craig looked at her sympathetically and hesitated as to whether or not to get close. Biting his lip nervously, he placed a comforting arm around the youngest of the crew. "Nicky the one who died I take it."

"Yeah," Tracey swiped at the tears that began to pour from her crystalline green eyes that sparkled in the night. "I was thinking of heading back to the neighborhood tomorrow, lay flowers at his grave or something." She chuckled humorlessly and somewhat insane. "Man, I'm scared. I haven't been there since... well, not since everything fell apart."

"If you want, we can come with." Dominique offered, despite knowing what the answer would be. She just wanted to show her support; make up for asking about such personal questions.

"Thanks, but its something I've gotta do myself."

Dominique smiled ruefully. "That's understandable."

A tear rolled down Tracey's cheek as she looked at the city rush by. "I really miss them."

"Just think of the good times you had," Craig suggested with a sullen tone to his voice. "Won't help but it might block stuff out for a minute, two if you're lucky. That's what I do."

The car came to a slow and gradual halt out in the cornfields. The throbbing sound of bass banging in the background from afar. Strobe lights flashed in unison with the trance-like music.

"Why are they having this party in the middle of nowhere?" Gemma twisted her face in confusion and asked with a slight chuckle.

Nicky squeezed his girlfriend's hand and smiled at her naivete. "So the cops don't bust it up."

"It's pretty loud," Tracey pointed out, nodding in the direction of the luminescence through the tall grass of the field, glowing from a small distance. "You guys sure they won't hear from the neighborhood?"

Sucking on a lollipop, Hayley nodded in agreement. "Girl's got a point."

"No," Jamie rolled his eyes and let out a slight chuckle. "We're out of earshot."

"Can we just stop talking and get to the party part of the party?" Scott snapped playfully.

"Works for me." Tracey slapped her hands on her legs and opened the door, pushing it outwards from her direction. The music louder now that the inside of the car was exposed.

The gang made their way through the field, if it wasn't for the glowsticks and the banging music getting louder with each step, they'd bound to get lost in the dark.

"This is awesome!" Nicky exclaimed as they walked across the dirt track, numerous cars were parked in a circular fashion; the headlights on, illuminating the rave.

The euphoric trance of Till Tears Do Us Part echoed throughout the fields, kids with glowsticks danced and posed, a DJ span his decks in the center.

"Thought you'd like it," Jamie threw an arm around his best budd and winked. Nicky's face lit up in response as he looked on, wide-eyed at the wicked moves breakdancers made.

Gemma looked at the boys and watched on somewhat sadly. She knew she'd have to let him go. "So anyway, where's the drinks?"

Hayley wedged between the boys and smirked playfully as she looked up at the blonde-haired dude with the shaved eyebrow. "Jamie, go get us some drinks."

"Sure, I live to serve." He rolled his eyes playfully, smacking Scott's back as he disappeared in the jeering and manic crowd in search of something alcoholic.

Tracey giggled and put her arm around Hayley's waist, pulling her in close and eyeing her up playfully. "You got that boy whipped; it's cute."

Scott scanned the crowd in search of someone who told him that he'd be there. There's no point in having a rave without some kind of alternative substance that would enhance the fun. "Dude, look who's here!"

Found him. The gang turned in unison in the direction the oldest of the group pointed at. Where the DJ furiously spun his decks and scratched his vinyl was Razor, the neighborhood's more influential dealer.

"So why'd they call you Razor?" Hannah Laskarides, a known hooker, run a finger down his toned thorax, biting the curves of her bottom lip seductively.

Ryan smirked. "Because of my razor-sharp personality. We gonna f*ck or what?"

Hannah rolled her eyes and deadpanned. Her hand instantly pulling away from the boy's pleasing form. "Fine by me, you're paying."

"I got some quality sh*t to get you in the mood," Ryan flashed a bag of heroin. "Let's go at it in my car."

Watching the hooker and the dealer leave from afar, Nicky twisted his face in confusion at Scott's enthusiasm. "Who's that?"

Eve swaggered across the cemetery tiredly. She turned around to take a final glance at the foster careers who waited anxiously for her to come back by the car.

She made her way through various headstones until she came to one that instantly caught her eyes. Eyes that were laced with a thin layer of tears, just waiting to burst out. Falling to her knees in front of it, Eve examined the epitaph sullenly.

Nicky Brice

Son, Brother and Boyfriend

Always cherished and missed


Eve sighed exasperatedly as she picked up one of the lilies that fell from the flowerpot at the bottom of the headstone. She replaced it and looked up at the inscription, running her fingers through the grooves of the engraved letters of her infatuation's name. As much as it pained her, she didn't let the 'boyfriend' part bother her. It wasn't the time.

"Hey, it's me." She swallowed hardly, hoping to push the lump that rose in the back of her throat back down; beckoning her to cry, to release. "I miss you. I wish you'd come back." She crossed one leg under the other and sighed, holding her head in her hands; looking down at the soil Nicky was beneath. "It's weird, you know, I dreamed that we'd meet again someday, like you'd wait for me until I got out. I didn't think it would be like this."

A shadow covered her and lingered over the epitaph, making Eve turn around to see who was standing behind her; squinting due to the sunlight in her eyes, all she saw was a tall girl, her face shaded.

"Sorry," Tracey apologised. "I'll come back later."

Eve stood up and dusted her knees of. "No, it's okay. I was just passing."

The brunette looked over her shoulder to see the foster careers by the car before resuming focus on the younger girl. "Yeah, looks like it." She raised an eyebrow and responded blankly. "Who are you anyway?"

"I'm Eve." The sociopath offered Tracey her hand. "Hi."

"Eve?" Tracey flinched back, realisation hitting her. "As in Jacobsen?"

The younger girl drew out her words cautiously; how did she know her name? "Yeah..."

"You've got a nerve coming here!" Tracey snapped, throwing the flowers down at the grave; petals tore off as they hit the ground, the soft breeze carrying them away.

"Please, I've just come to pay my respects, okay?"

Tracey squinted challengingly. "You finished now?"

"Hey," Eve stepped forward. She wasn't going to take any more of this girl's crap. Who the hell was she anyway? "I got as much right to be here as you."

Tracey laughed humorlessly. "Funny. You know you ruined his life, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That party we had was to make him feel better after what you did!" Tracey snapped. She couldn't control herself for a second longer. "If it wasn't for you, he'd still be alive. Jamie wouldn't be in juvie, Scott would still be in touch with me, and I never would've had to..."

Eve looked at her apologetically, the older girl was on the brink of tears. "I-I'm sorry."

"You got no f*cking clue what you done!"

"Tell me." Eve began to cry. "I can fix it."

Tracey withdrew herself, tearing herself away, holding herself; going inside where she was safe. "No one can make amends for what you did, if you knew... if you knew what I have to go through everyday, you'd never be able to forgive yourself." She snapped, alarming Eve. "Never!"

"Just tell me how to make it right."

Eve looked at the breaking girl brokenheartedly. Never had she ever felt the need to look after someone like this before. "You can't." Tracey's lips quivered. "It's all sh*t."

"I'm sorry," Eve expressed how truly apologetic she was. She meant every word. "I wish I could change the way things... I wish I could change what happened, but I can't."

"So do I." Tracey sighed in resignation.

A tear streamed down the side of Eve's face. "I'll go."

Just as she was about to walk off, a placating hand stopped her; gently pulling her back. "Wait."


"I'm sorry, okay?" Tracey collapsed to the ground at Nicky's grave. "I never should've shot my mouth off like that, it's just..."

Eve fell to her knees and held the broken girl in her arms. Tracey sobbed brokenheartedly, wrapping herself in the safety of the guilt-ridden sociopath. Now there's a first. "It's okay, I'm here." Eve reassured the solicited detective's daughter. "Everything's going to be alright."

As they both cried in each other's arms at Nicky's grave, the sunlight raked through the green leaves that sweeped off the branches that shaded them. A moment neither of them would ever forget; a time of letting go.

Maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel after all.


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