You Always Thought That I Was Stronger...

Jack had dark circles under her eyes as she trudged down some random street in London. She had slept last night, but it had not been comfortable. She had not been able to find a motel or somewhere to rent a room, so she had ended Apparating to the tree fort she had found not long ago. She did not have any ambition to return home or even to one of her various "safe places."

At least she had found a place to shower...So she had not really. She had broke into a muggle's home and used their shower. She had clean clothes with her so now she felt fresh again, though that did not help. It was drizzling outside. Again, her hair hung in stringy stands around her, making her very much look like a stray.

She even looked scrawnier. She had not been eating well the past week or so. How could she? She did not understand anything anymore. Literally, nothing made sense anymore. She walked by homeless people and dying dogs and she did not know what to think...

For as long as she had known, she had struggled to find a reason to live. Why did she exist? She had friends, but the relationships felt empty because they had no meaning; where would they end up? She had never had anyone to love her and so she had never understood how people could live on the hope alone that one day they would have a spouse to forever love them. she was good at a few of her interests, but wasn't good enough for the things that could make a career, and was great at things that would get her nowhere.

She had nowhere to go. She was destined to tread water all of her life, it seemed.

Perhaps that was why she had cared so much about what happened to Vito. If she could help him figure out and get his life on track...then maybe...Maybe their would be hope for herself.

But Vito had proved that there was no hope. Or so it seemed. And yet her thoughts still kept turning to him, but it would only make her sick to her stomach.

WHY DID SHE CARE?!

The bastard had tried to kill her and her friends! He was scum, he did not care about her, he did not care about anyone! And it disgusted Jack that she could not seem to move on from that.

She stopped in her tracks and her hands went into her hair. Two scars crisscrossed each other on the side of her hair, barely visible, but raised so she could feel them everytime her fingers fluttered to them. One was a horizontal one fron Nerezza. The other...from when she had flung herself out of the way of Vito's killing curse. She had refused to heal it so that she would not erase the fact of what he had done...

She had regretted that decision ever since.

She closed her eyes and tugged on her hair, as though wishing she could rip it out of her skull. Her heart crashed against her ribs, trying to commit suicide. Her eyes flicked open and her eyes stung.

She took in a deep breath and looked around. She needed to escape. She needed something...anything! She turned and saw a dingy sign advertising a hip new club. It reminded her of Satin's but she did not care. She turned and walked to the bar. She stared at the door and slipped inside.

She walked to the bar and tapped on it. A bartender practically materialized. Jack's voice caught in her throat and then she said in a strong voice. "The strongest thing I can get. Please."

She had swiped some money from her parents...a lot actually. The bartender glared at her and she pulled out her money, sliding the appropriate amount, and then another hefty amount. He glanced around and took the money, sliding her a shot glass.

She nodded. "Just this one." She raised the glass to her head and threw her head back. The burning liquid ran down her face and her eyes stung...but the effect... She slammed down the shot glass.

She slipped off her stool as she slapped another on the counter. The bartender finally steered her over to a booth and forced her down. She looked up at him. "Leave me a bottle." Her eyes flashed crazily but he sneered at her. She sighed and pushed over a wad of cash. He counted it and walked away.

"That's what I though!" She barked after him. She smirked but she was feeling so depressed right now. She felt heavy, as though the liquid was saturating her and making her like a wet rag; limp and heavy.

It had stopped drizzling outside for the most part, though it still looked terrible and bleak. Her hair and clothes were dry but she still felt wet...She felt like a wet dog. She shook her head comically and grinned.

A bottle appeared in her vision and she filled her shot glass. She swallowed it in one gulp and hiccoughed. She shook her head. She would never understand why Vito drank...

She still felt like shit...

The air was cold again. What was it with London and rain? Sure, Vito had lived there for over twenty years, but he could never get used to the fact that he couldn’t even step outside of his club without an umbrella in hand. Why didn’t he ever bring an umbrella? It didn’t make much sense; he cared so much about the way he appeared to the world around him, so why didn’t he just bring an umbrella with him when he went out and use it as a shield from the cold drops of rain? He himself didn’t know the answer to that question.

Vito walked down the street, one foot after the other in a way that would make anyone who had ever worked on improving their catwalk strut jealous. He wore a smirk on his face, but his eyes didn’t reflect that same amusement with the world, instead they were as cold as the air around him, and this through his appearance off balance. The man held a cigarette in-between his full lips loosely and inhaled the nicotine, allowing a beautiful gray colored cloud of smoke to escape his parted lips as he continued forward. Where was he going? Vito never knew where he was going, but he always had money in his pocket, and an idea of how he wanted his day to play out.

London seemed awfully quiet, and Vito actually stopped in his tracks and glanced around him to make sure that there actually still were living, breathing people walking the earth. A few cars made their way down the street, and a small group of adults stood near a restaurant across the street as they talked to themselves- but he couldn’t hear their voices, and the cars drove on silently. Had his hearing been impaired somehow? Or had something happened to the world overnight? Vito adjusted his dark suit jacket and started walking forward once more, figuring it was better to just ignore the rest of the world and focus on himself, as he usually did; there was no point in switching things up, that would just throw him off.

A bar or club of some sort sounded like a good idea to him at the time… of course. He hadn’t exactly been feeling chipper, he had stitches threaded into the skin on the back of his head and a bloodied bandage wrapped tightly around his left hand, after all. Vito cradled his injured hand in the other at the thought of the two broken fingers on that hand. Why hadn’t he gone to see a healer yet? Vito scoffed, his hand would be fine wrapped up in the bandage, he didn’t need to put his trust in the irritatingly pleasant healers that worked at the hospital.

Vito took another drag from his cigarette as he crossed the street, not caring enough to slow for the passing cars. As usual, cars honked and people swore, but it only made Vito grin to himself, and he continued on unscathed. He dropped his used up cigarette on the ground and stopped in front of a decent looking club. He read the sign that advertised the place without really retaining what he had read and pulled the door open, stepping inside.

The air inside was warm, but the instant change from the cold air outside to the hot air inside the place made Vito’s skin itch as his blood tried to cope with the temperature change. He scanned the place with his dark colored eyes and smirked; he liked the place, it wasn’t nearly as high-class as Satin’s, but he could actually enjoy himself in this newer club.

A few heads turned in Vito’s direction, but only for a moment as he entered and made his way over to the bar. He noticed, of course, and smirked, enjoying the moment of attention. He sat himself on one of the chairs in front of the bar and rested his arms atop the table, “Your finest wine,” he stated simply, laying the accurate pay out in front of the bartender. The other man nodded, counting the money, and got Vito his drink. Without any word of thanks, Vito grabbed his class of wine and brought it to his lips before getting up from his seat and making his way over to one of the nearest booths, holding the remaining bottle of wine in the other hand.

“Wonderful,” Vito said with a smirk, enjoying the flavor on his tongue- but something always had to ruin Vito’s good mood. He felt his body freeze, and he found that he could no longer control his legs and force them to carry him forward. He would have dropped his bottle of wine, had he not managed to tighten his grip around its neck just in time.

There she was…. again.

Jack held the shot glass in her hand and tried to get her lips to reach the glass, but the second she focused on it, she lost focus again. Finally, the glass bumped into her bottom lip and she tossed the drink down her throat. It was horrid and it did not make her feel any better... but she felt no reason to stop.

Cold air rushed into the bar and her hair swirled around her face, the tips of some of it sticking to her wet lips. She blew it out of her face and roughly brushed her bangs out of the way. Grrr... cold air did not bode well for her right now. She had just gotten warm and somewhat comfy. Who was the kill joy?

She glanced at the bar, but someone shifted in front of her vision and she could not see the new arrival. "Oi! Down in front!" Her call went unnoticed as the people around her began to babble again. She sneered to herself, making the talking sign with her hand before flopping it painfully onto the bar.

Was alcohol supposed to drain you of all those sad thoughts; those bitter thoughts that made you want to rip yourself to pieces...? Because it wasn't. In fact, her emotions were not dulled at all, but getting sharper and sharper as her common sense lots its edge. She had lost her filter. She was no longer a human robot.

She looked down at her empty shot glass and filled it. She swirled it, mesmerized by the liquid for a moment... So simple it seemed. Hell, it looked like water... And yet it caused people to do stupid...horrible...things. She raised it to her lips and violently took another swig. She sighed and her eyes opened over the glass.

It dropped onto the table and bounced, rolling across the table. She had to be imagining it. Vito could NOT be sitting right across from her at the other booth. It was as though her nightmares were coming to haunt her.

He was here to taunt her, that had to be it. He was here to brag that he had attempted to kill her, that he had injured Chase and her. He was coming to sneer in her face and tell her how much of a failure she was. How she could not do anything to help even a simple poltergeist... If she could not help one person, how could she help herself? If she could not help herself, how the hell was she supposed to affect the world?!

Her eyes swirled with anger and tears as her chin trembled. He seemed shocked to see her, but all she could see was a smirk and a flash of green light. Leaning forward in her seat, she said, "What do you want?!" Her face seemed desperate and in pain, as though she could not understand why this always happened. "What more do you want from me?!" She refused to move. She could not bring herself to get close to Vito...she had tried that before...

The poltergeist’s eyes moved from the redhead’s face, her eyes, then to the shot glass sitting there in front of her on the table’s smooth surface. He would have said something cruel along the lines of 'I always knew you wanted to be like me’, but there was a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach that kept him from saying anything at all for the moment. Vito tilted his head backwards and downed as much wine as he could until his mouth was filled completely, and closed his eyes for a moment to savor the burning sensation that he felt in his throat as the liquid pain reliever ran down his system. He set the glass down on his own table and inhaled slowly before opening his eyes again, glancing at Jack.

Why did she have to be everywhere?

Vito hadn’t seen Jack since he had tried to kill her- and that was a good reason for one person to avoid another- and he had been doing pretty well at coping with the change between having Jack around to bicker with, to the complete silence. Sure he could pay for any call girl he wanted, but it wasn’t just the company of a human being that made that sickening feel of loneliness go away; it was the conversations, the lies, the truth on some occasions… it was Jack Dyllan.

Oh, but there she was, sitting in the booth opposite of his own- but she wasn’t the Jack he he loved to hate, that much was for sure; she was broken, he could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t wearing her mask, and that had ultimately been the most surprising part about seeing her.

Vito rubbed his face and sent the command from his brain to his legs for them to MOVE and allow him to walk over to the drunk redhead’s booth, but it took a moment for them to respond, as if his brain was overheating. His mouth also refused to obey his commands for a long moment of silence, but he found that when his lips did budge and grouped letters did leap from his tongue, they weren’t what he had wanted to hear himself speak, “Jack Dyllan is… drunk? I thought I’d never see the day!”

No. Bad Vito. Bad.

He slid into the booth next to her and looked to his left, wincing when he saw her lips tremble; he didn’t enjoy seeing that weaker side of Jack- pain was one thing, but weakness made him feel disgusting when he sat close to her like that and met her eyes. Vito could see the dark circles around her eyes and it made him wonder why he had had such an impact on her. She really had believed that she could have changed him, hadn’t she?

“Wine is better than what your drinking,” he told her quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as he set his bottle of wine on the table and slowly slid it towards her.

Jack felt her heartbeat and her breath quicken as his eyes met hers. She did not think she would ever be able to face Vito properly again. Even now, with the two tables between them, she could not help but feel the pain set in ever more deeply, cutting her like a knife. Even his gaze, for once void of his usual hate and malice, seemed to rip into her and make her feel exposed for the fraud she was...

He began to tease Jack about being drunk and she felt her cheeks burn bright and her face twitch in pain and in hurt. She swallowed and stared back at him. He moved and came to sit next to her. She scooted away, the mere closeness of Vito to her almost too overwhelming. She did not think she could stand to face him. Not when she had failed so terribly... It was too much of a reminder.

In a soft, pained voice she said, "You drove me to this..." It was an accusing tone that spilled out of her lips, and the anger and bitterness in it surprised her so much she almost hiccoughed, though she muffled it, making her hop slightly in her seat. She glanced over at him and shook her head, trying force back onto her face that strong, robotic expression... But it was gone...Drowned in alcohol.

She again glanced at him and their eyes met. She felt as though she were looking at him in tunnel vision and she felt very, very small. He offered her the wine and she stared at him, the bottle and her now emptied glass. She shook her head and pushed the wine bottle back but kept her hand on it.

In truth, the stuff she was drinking was much too strong and it hurt to drink it. The wine would be tamer...She wondered if Vito knew that. He had too. It was alcohol. She quickly poured herself some wine and downed it.

She spluttered and slapped the shot glass down on the counter. It was stupid of her to continue drinking, and to continue doing something stupid was not like her at all... She now knew that wine wasn't really supposed to be drank like that. she couched and pounded on her chest. She pushed the glass away and gasped.

For a second she sat there, staring ahead and breathing slowly, trying to keep herself from freaking out too much. Finally she said in a stronger, more accusing voice, "What. Do. You. Want. From. Me?" She turned to glare at him, almost daring him to ask for more. What else could she give? Her sanity was gone, her friendships, her heart... What was left? If anyone could think of something else...it would be Vito.

“You drove me to try and kill you,” Vito said in reply, his voice sounding just as accusing as hers had. Well… it was nice to know that he was able to speak again. He frowned, he thought that perhaps seeing her drunk would be an amusing thing to witness once-upon-a-time, but now that he was actually there with her while she was drowning herself in alcohol, he could find nothing amusing about it. She wasn’t fun when she drank, because she drank to free herself of her sorrows, and that could only make a person more depressed.

He formed a fist with the hand that wasn’t wrapped in a bandage and rested his chin against his knuckles, not moving his eyes away from Jack’s. She asked him what he wanted from her, but the problem was, he himself couldn’t even answer that question truthfully, for he didn’t know the answer. She was a form of entertainment- sure that worked. He enjoyed testing her, and therefore would love it if she would start up another one of their pointless arguments- yes, that worked as an answer just as well as the first one had, but Vito didn’t quite feel that those were the answers Jack was asking for.

She wanted to know why he wouldn’t leave her alone after what he had –almost- done to her.

Chase had said that Jack had given up her friends to try and ‘save’ him from what he was, or something along those lines, so did that mean that now that she had failed that she felt guilty about such a decision? Or did this have more to do with the fact that she had almost died? Vito honestly couldn’t tell as he searched her eyes for the answers to his questions. He only saw his reflection in them due to the small amount of tears that polished her eyes. “I hate you, you know,” he told her in that same quiet tone he had spoken in before. Why the sudden, harsh comment? Vito felt that it was normal for the two of them, and he clung to that for some reason with all that he could.

“Careful, you shouldn’t drink wine like tha”- but before he could even finish his sentence she had thrown the drink back as if it were a shot and Vito couldn’t help but roll his dark colored eyes. Of course she didn’t listen to him- why would she? Vito exhaled dramatically and went silently for a moment; he knew he had to give Jack some sort of answer to that question she had asked if he wanted to avoid having a shot glass thrown at his head, but every sentence that formed in his mind Vito knew would come out wrong, and the last thing he needed was an enraged drunk near him.

After a moment of silence, he replied, “We are so good at what we are, Jack, I don’t know what I want from you other than that,” he told her, blinking slowly. Was that an honest answer? Vito asked himself that same question as he brought the bottle of wine from Jack’s side of the table closer to himself, and brought the rim of the bottle to his lips.

Jack had her hand clenched tightly around the shot glass so that her knuckles were white. She stared forward, her nostrils flaring slightly as she tried to convince herself that this was not real, that she had passed out or something, and she would wake up in a pool of god know's what with the jeering crowd around her as the bartender drug her limp body from the bar...

Yes, that would be the more preferable option.

Suddenly, almost casually he slipped in that he hated her. For a few minutes she stared forward, trying to wrap her head around this...

Her parents, seemingly always sneering at her, never impressed by the fact that she was actually a successful young witch, because her existence was loathsome. They fact that she was who she was made it impossible for them to love her-

The Death Eaters and their cruel faces, full of hate towards her, even though she had never done anything to them...They just wanted her dead.

Her peers, scoffing as she got mad over something, calling her a hermit, a shrew, a b!tch, any name they could find, because in truth they did not even know her name. They could not even pay her that respect...

She suddenly exploded and brought the glass down on the table, finally shattering the abused little thing. She turned to him. "WHY?! WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO DESERVE YOUR HATE? I HAVE TREATED YOU WAY BETTER THAN YOU DESERVE! I'M PROBABLY THE ONLY ONE TO EVER CAST ANY SORT OF DECENCY OR KINDNESS IN YOUR DIRECTION AND YOU STILL CAN NOT BRING YOURSELF TO THINK KINDLY OF ME!"

The words came without thought and that's when she realized she had spoken right after he had answered her. She vaguely recollected the words and put them together carefully. What did he mean by that? She was good at being herself...and that was all he wanted...

Just so he could tear that away, too she thought fiercely. Vito was not happy unless he was hurting someone else...

That was it; Vito wasn’t that good at keeping himself calm- in fact, he was horrible at it, and he had surprised himself by keeping his temper for as long as he had already. He narrowed his eyes slowly at the mess in front of him, “That is why I hate you. Why cant you just hate me?! I’ve tried so damn hard to get you to, but you. just. wont” he replied, almost raising his voice. People had begun looking their way, and for once, the attention irritated Vito, because it was not the sort of attention he enjoyed. “F*ck off,” he hissed at them all, flipping the bartender the bird when he continued to stare at the argumentative pair even after everyone else had turned their attention elsewhere.

Vito dropped his bottle of red wine back down onto the table’s surface, causing the bottle to wobble slowly and nearly fall off of the table and onto the ground- but as if willing it not to, he glared at the bottle and it stopped moving.

“You failed Jack, so what? Why the hell did you think you could change me in the first place, anyway? You made that choice, I did nothing to make you stick around- in fact, I remember trying to get you to go away, several times,” Vito stated. Why was he so frustrated all of a sudden? How had Jack gotten to him so fast? It usually took a bit longer than that for her to break into his mind and place a bomb there.

The poltergeist’s thoughts went back to the dream he had been forced to suffer from when he had passed out in that alley that stormy evening, and his face went blank; he had put a shield in front of his thoughts and his emotions for the moment, because he wouldn’t be able to face Jack if she had anything more against him; knowing his deepest fear was enough against him, there was no need to add on to that. But it still proved to be a challenge for Vito to look at Jack, and then to picture in his head that image of her, bloodied and bruised, lying dead before him.

But if that was so, why had he tried to kill her himself?- She had pushed him to do so. Jack had dared him to attempt to murder her and he hadn’t been able to refuse the challenge.

Jack shook her head, pointing a trembling finger at him; whether it quaked because of her emotions or the alcohol, she did not know. She shook her head more obviously, ignoring the fact that people's eyes were starting to flick towards the pair of them.

"Can't you just accept that I can not hate you!" she said in a deadly whisper, because a slight hush had gone over the bar. She glared at a few people and conversation picked up. Her gaze slipped back to Vito. "Do you have to prove me wrong? Most people enjoy the fact that they aren't hated."

She hiccoughed. "Do you really hate me or are you just jealous because at least I accept the truth about myself." She had entered dangerous waters...

“You failed Jack, so what? Why the hell did you think you could change me in the first place, anyway?" She stared at him, blinking quickly and she stopped herself from hiccoughing again. She did not tear her gaze away from him. The alcohol made her forget that Vito would use things against her and that some bits of information should not be said. "Because...you can." She stared hard at him. "You think you have no choice, but I have seen you choose. You could. And I know there's a part of you that wants too."

You made that choice, I did nothing to make you stick around- in fact, I remember trying to get you to go away, several times." She chuckled to herself, looking forward and swaying. "You should know that one...You and I...we don't stand down from dares." She glanced at him, as though to say he had dared her to stick around.

Her hand groped out for the glass and she remembered she had smashed it. She puled out her wand and pointed it under the table and flicked it, thinking Reparo. It took her to tries, because she was distracted, but once it was repaired, she filled it with wine. She tenderly put the glass to her lips and sipped...

It wasn't strong enough. She could still see the look on Vito's face when he had sent the killing curse at her, still hear Chase screaming, she could still hear him saying "I hate you."

He looked up from where he was lying at the female who had assisted him, and smirked, “You know, when I’m gone I’ll miss that ugly face of yours,” his voice was quiet and sounded as if he had to force his throat to make each noise required to speak...He brought his arms up and folded them underneath his head before crossing his ankles as well, “Satin’s too,” Vito added, though it was in more of a whisper, as if he hadn’t actually intended for anyone other than himself to hear his voice...

“Mmmm, come here,” Vito spoke quietly, extending his harm and holding it out towards Jack. His eyes were closed, and he appeared as if he were sleeping, but it seemed that his head wanted to continue to frustrate him for a while longer, and so sleep did not take over him. He patted the bed beside him and scooted backwards slowly. “I won’t touch you, I swear,” Vito added, but his lips didn’t curl upward into his usual smirk- instead, his face remained blank, other than his forehead which was wrinkled slightly out of pain.

You freak, what made you think that I wanted your help!?” he shouted for the first time in his life; Vito Dee Symons never raised his voice, for he thought it rather unbecoming of him, and he enjoyed his quiet, mysterious voice much more, but at that moment, he couldn’t control himself, and when he realized that he had shouted at her, there was no changing it. “Get.Out.”

“Did you think that you could get close to me? Did you really think for a moment that you could actually help me? I’m Vito Dee Symons you b!tch, I don’t need you! Hell, no one needs you, and no one ever will,” he hissed, turning around sharply to face the young female.

Vito silently circled around the young female until he was the one standing behind her. He pulled his arm back, balled his fingers into a fist, and shot his arm forward in the direction of Jack’s head- but he moved his arm just before he hit her, and ended up punching the wall, his knuckles cracking painfully when they collided with it.

As soon as he heard the small click of the lock, he crumbled to the floor in a way that no one had ever seen- or would ever see Vito Dee Symons act. He leaned his shoulder and his head against the frame of his mattress, and covered his face with one of his hands, breathing in sharply...Vito slammed his head against the wood a few more times for good measure; anything to keep himself from sobbing, that would be too much for him to recover from. Vito Dee Symons was smooth, sly, and cold- so who was this mess sitting on Vito’s bedroom floor?

The poltergeist leaned against Jack, lying his head against hers because he didn’t have the capacity at that moment to push her away again. He just needed a moment to collect himself; to deal with his fear of being ripped out of his life and placed somewhere completely new where he would have to start over completely.

She forced these memories from her mind, shaking slightly... The wine definitely was not strong enough. She poured some of the hard liquor and downed two consecutive shots as though she could not get enough. She choked again and swallowed hard, shaking in pain. She recovered and sniffed.

She barked a laugh. "What a pair the two of us...Both posers... We talk a big game and we act as though we've got it all together." She slumped over the table, swirling the residues of the shot glass. "But we don't...There's no real reason to pretend, except we get freaked because we're not in control... And the things that really eat us up inside, that drive us to...this!" She gestured around her wildly before slumping dejectedly again. "Well we can't control those things. And that scares the shit out of us..." She closed her eyes slowly, to block out the view of Vito and the bar.

“Most people?” Vito scoffed, “I’m not most people Jack, hatred is to be expected from me, and if you haven’t already learned so, I’m afraid there is something wrong with your head,” he replied in a hiss. He knew she probably wouldn’t remember half of the conversation they were having, and that was probably the reason he was being honest with her at that moment. That was also another reason why he shouldn’t have been getting so upset with her. He rubbed his temples in slow, steady circles when he felt his anger bubble and boil within him; he needed to calm himself if he ever wanted things to end the way he wanted. “Yes, Jack, I really do hate you, but it is just too much fun,” he told her, looking away from her eyes to stare at the wine bottle in front of him; he didn’t enjoy that look that her eyes had to them, not one bit.

The poltergeist watched the young redhead female repair her shot glass and down yet another shot of alcohol, and scowled, “Unless you want to wake up on the floor, covered in vomit I suggest you pass the rest of that my way,” he warned her in a voice that was almost threatening; she may have assisted him when he had been in her position, but he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to hold her hair back when she was upchucking every meal she had consumed over the past day or two.

"Because...you can." She stared hard at him. "You think you have no choice, but I have seen you choose. You could. And I know there's a part of you that wants too." Some important nerve inside of Vito’s head snapped and he couldn’t keep himself from replying in all honesty, as if someone had slipped a truth-telling serum in his drink, “That girl, Chase, who is always acting so innocent and helpless kicked me against the pavement and I was knocked unconscious. You know what ran through my head for that- what- minute or two? I saw you dead, covered in blood and bruises and It made me sick, like I’d swallowed a carton of sour milk. I’ve killed so many people, Jack, without giving it a second thought- but that image was something I didn’t enjoy,” he told her in a hushed tone, his eyes narrowed and cold, “You challenged me to kill you, and I tried to because I had to prove to myself that you were no different.” Yeah, she wouldn’t remember a word of that, he was sure of it by the way she swayed slowly back and forth in her seat, so he had nothing to fear.

If he were lucky.

“You know what Jack? Your so afraid that you'll never trust anyone, but here I am, with everything I’ve ever wanted and I’m gonna loose it any day now. You’ve got it good, your just too ignorant to see so for yourself,” he replied. He wanted to get up and leave her there to drink herself to death, but his legs refused to obey him, and so he was forced to continue sitting there in the booth, staring at a girl that should have been dead after all he had put her through. “So drink up darling, because pretty soon you’ll get your way; you wont be seeing much of me anymore,” those words made him feel as if he had stabbed himself in the gut with a knife.

Vito brought the bottle of wine to his lips once more and took a swig. He needed another bottle, and another cigarette; it was going to be a long, difficult night for him with such dreadful thoughts running through his head.