Top 10 Most Notorious Duos – Killers and Partners in Crime

1. Bonnie and Clyde
Bonnie and Clyde are of course the most famous criminal duo to date and they committed their crimes during the Great Depression in the 1930’s. The kinds of crime they normally committed with their gang included armed robberies, usually on small gas stations, but they were also notorious for the murder of 9 police officers and several civilians. Subsequently, they were both shot and killed in a police ambush in 1934.

2. Fernandez and Beck
Raymond Fernandez and Martha Beck became know as “The Lonely Hearts Killers” in 1949.
They were arrested and put on trial for the murder of 20 women between 1947 and 1949. Both faced the death penalty for luring lonely women to their deaths. They were both subsequently found guilty and were executed by electric chair.

3. Burke and Hare
Burke and Hare were the infamous serial killers who sold corpses to Dr. Robert Knox in Edinburgh for dissection.Their favourite method of killing was to smoother and compress their victims chest. When caught Hare confessed, but also testified against Burke. Resulting in Hare being let off and Burke to be hanged for their crimes.

4. The Papin Sisters
Christine and Lea Papin were the famous french maids who murdered their employers wife and daughter in Le Mans, in 1933.They beat the 2 women to death with a hammer and pewter pot, but also gouged out their eyes with a kitchen knife and their fingers. Both confessed to the murders. Christine, who was believed to be the instigator was sentenced to death, which was later revoked to just life imprisonment and Lea being the lesser involved in the horrific crime, received a 10 year prison sentence.

5. The Krays
Reggie and Ronnie Kray were the biggest perpetrators of organized crime in London in the 1950’s and 60’s. Made famous for their celebrity connections and violent crimes, including torture and murder. They were eventually arrested and convicted of various crimes to which they both received life sentences.

6. Brady and Hindley
Ian Brady and Myra Hindley, who were also know as the Moors Murderers, sexually assaulted and killed 5 children between the ages of 10 and 17. These young victims were murdered between July 1963 and October 1965 and were buried on Saddleworth Moor. The pair were arrested within days of each other in October 1965. They were eventually tried and convicted of all 5 murders for which they both served life sentences.

7. Leopold and Loeb
Nathan Freudenthal Leoplold Jr. and Richard Albert Loeb were 2 wealthy, well to do, university students who murdered a 14 year old boy in 1924. Their motive, that they wished to commit the perfect crime. They kidnapped the boy from school in a rented car, then killed him in the backseat with a chisel, intending to collect a ransom from his wealthy parents. After evidence pointed to them being involved in the murder, their alibis started to break down and they soon confessed. They were both sentenced to life imprisonment for the murder and 99 years for the kidnapping.

8. Henry Lee Lucas and Ottis Toole
Henry Lee Lucas and Ottis Toole were both friends, lovers and killing buddies. Supposedly (according to their confessions) they murdered up to 600 random victims all across America. They were real sickos, committing arson, cannibalism and bestiality in most places they went, right up until their arrests in 1983. That’s nearly 40 years of murdering people! Both were sentenced to life imprisonment for their horrific crimes.

9. Fred and Rosemary West
Fred West and his wife Rosemary were accused of murdering over 10 women and young girls. They bound them, raped them, killed and dismembered them and then buried them around their home. This took place at what is now known as The House of Horrors, 25, Cromwell Street, Gloucester, over a 20 year period from 1967 to 1987. Both were found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment however, Rosemary always maintained her innocence. Authorities believe that they had both killed more than 20 women but couldn’t gather enough evidence to charge them with more murders.

10. The Mendez Brothers
Joseph Lyle and Erik Galen Mendez were known for the so called Shotgun Murders where they killed their wealthy parents in Beverley Hills in 1989. They were made famous by the highly publicised trials that followed. Numerous different stories were thrown about court in their defense such as their father abusing them. But what it really boiled down to was money. They wanted it and their parents stood in their way, so they shot them. Both were sentenced to life imprisonment for the shootings.

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn’t kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.

The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.

After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself…

After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it… or rather didn’t react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

So did the whispering to the microphones.

After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

They announced: “We are opening the chamber to test the microphones; step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom.”

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: “We no longer want to be freed.”

Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in ‘life.’

The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject’s thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four ‘surviving’ test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep…

To everyone’s surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject’s teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word “MORE” over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake…

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. “Keep cutting.”

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

Only one response was given: “I must remain awake.”

All three subject’s restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military ‘benefactors’ for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone’s surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. “I won’t be locked in here with these things! Not with you!” he screamed at the man strapped to the table. “WHAT ARE YOU?” he demanded. “I must know!”

The subject smiled.

"Have you forgotten so easily?" The subject asked. "We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread.”

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject’s heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, “So… nearly… free…”


On 14 July 1965, Alice Marie and Eddie Crimmins’ father reported his children missing. They were living in New York with their mother, Alice Crimmins. Later that day Alice Marie’s body was found and a few days later Eddie’s body was also discovered; they had both been strangled. Nearly two years after the murders, Alice was charged with her daughters killing and a witness testified at her May 1968 trial that she had been seen with a man carrying a bundle and holding her daughter in her arms. She was found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to 20 years. In March 1971 Alice was charged with the murder of her son; again she was found guilty and sentenced to life. The apparent motive was that she feared their father would win a custody battle.

What’s wrong with this picture? Why is Bernie Madoff in jail and not those who are responsible for the global financial crisis? These robber barons are not only free, but have made billions on defrauding the world?

Jeffry Picower, rather than Madoff, appears to have been the largest beneficiary of Madoff’s Ponzi scheme, and his estate settled the claims against it for $7.2 billion. J.P. Morgan Chase & Co. may have also benefited from the scheme – through interest

It’s often said that crime doesn’t pay. But for JPMrogan who wants to write off deduct $4 billion from its taxes to pay $13 billion in penalties for their recklessness. Then the crime did pay off if they were allowed to do that. Now why should the federal government let JPMorgan this when the CEO is suppose to be locked up in prison? This isn’t really a punish when the CEO Jamie Dimon is trying to stick it to the tax payers. That’s us at our expense.

Sometimes, a news story can be so crammed with irony that it boggles the mind. Consider just the headline on one such story that ran recently in my town’s daily paper: “Man gets 10 years for defrauding banks.”

That just screams for a rewrite, doesn’t it? I yearn for a story with a headline in boldface type that, at long last, would trumpet this joyous news: “Banker get 10 years for defrauding man.”

Alas, while the FBI, IRS, and the judicial establishment went all out to nail the bank defrauder, they allow big-time Wall Street crooks who defraud us to escape prosecution, much less jail. High-flying bankers systematically commit serial acts of blatant fraud, bilking millions of people out of billions of dollars, but they keep their positions, paychecks, perks, and prestige — free to bilk again.

The latest Wall Street tycoon to admit to grand scale larceny, yet pay no personal penalty, is Jamie Dimon, the head honcho of JPMorgan Chase. Shareholders in Dimon’s felonious operation have been socked with a record $13 billion in penalties, but not a penny comes from Jamie’s pocket.

Still, popping the bank for 13 big ones shows that the Justice Department is finally getting tough on corporate crime, right? Not exactly.

JPMorgan’s punishment will be softened significantly by this unannounced outrage: A corporation — unlike a person — can deduct criminal fines from its income taxes. That means we taxpayers will, in effect, cough up some $4 billion to help America’s richest bank pay for its wrongdoing.

This corporate tax scam puts the “con” in unconscionable.

But We the People can shame Dimon and his bank’s shareholders into paying the full price for their criminal acts. To help a grassroots coalition of citizen groups that are demanding just that, go to

AVISO: Esse imagine contém linguagem imprópria, assassinato e cenas de horror. Não recomendado para pessoas sensíveis e menores de 14 anos. Possíveis erros de português nas falas são marcas poéticas, ou seja, foram cometidos para dar mais realidade ao imagine.  


- Niall, não!

A arma disparou contra o peito do senhor deitado que agora sangrava. Nos olhos de Niall havia ódio misturado com ganancia. Ele não se importou nem um pouco com a vida que acabara de tirar. O sangue formava uma poça sob o corpo agora sem vida.

- Quer passar fome, (S/N)? – Ele avançou nervoso perto de mim. Eu estava nervosa e chorando. – Minha vida é assim, se quer sair dela, vou entender. – Balancei a cabeça em um “não”. – Ótimo. Vamos. Já peguei o dinheiro.

Peguei a mão de Niall e o segui até sua moto. Ele me ajudou a subir nela e dirigiu por Los Angeles. Abracei-o forte e gemi desapontada. Senti sua respiração mais forte. Será que estava bravo comigo?


Era o baile da famosa família Campbell, a família mais rica de Los Angeles. O filho mimado e mais velho, Brayn, achava que eu era sua namoradinha, “sua puta”, como ele dizia; e viva me beijando e me agarrando. Sempre lutei, obviamente, contra esses atos, mas, nessa festa, ele tinha passado do limite.

Brayn simplesmente me levou para um quarto e começou a tirar sua roupa dizendo que hoje me faria mulher. Corri assustada para o banheiro e me tranquei lá. Tinha que sair daquele lugar. Abri a janela e vi como era alto. Ele batia na porta loucamente e gritava para que eu saísse. Amarrei todas as toalhas que encontrei naquele lugar enorme, montei uma espécie de corda, prendi no puxador de toalhas mais próximo da janela e iniciei minha descida. Infelizmente, a “corda” não era grande o suficiente, logo, quando cheguei no final, vi que precisava pular. Brayn, que continuava no quarto, começou a gritar da janela desesperadamente e saiu apressado. Tinha que fugir o mais rápido possível. Soltei a “corda” e cai em alguns arbustos. Levantei a cabeça meio confusa e dolorida. Um menino de mascara preta me ajudou a levantar.

-Você está bem? – Ele perguntou me segurando.

- Solta ela! Ela é minha vadia. – Brayn chegou todo bravo, mas , curiosamente meio vestido.

- Ela não é vadia de ninguém, canalha. – O garoto meteu um soco na cara de Brayn e , após o idiota cair no chão, completou a dor com dois chutes: no saco e outro na barriga.

Ele pegou minha mão e me conduziu até sua moto. Montei na mesma e seguimos juntos para fora dali. Agarrei forte em sua cintura e seguimos por aquela cidade abençoada. Ele dirigiu até a ala mais pobre da cidade e parou na frente da garagem de um sobrado azul lindo, comparado a vizinhança. Entrou com a moto na garagem e a trancou. Eu apenas o segui enquanto ele entrava na casa.

- Ok, vamos deixar uma coisa clara. – Ele jogou a jaqueta de couro no sofá e tirou a regata mostrando seu peitoral. – Você pode ficar hoje e nada mais.  – Balancei a cabeça em um “sim” – Posso saber quem está na minha casa?

- Ah… meu nome é…. – comecei a falar, mas fui interrompida.

- Não você. – Ele ligou a luz e tinha uma mulher sentada ao lado da jaqueta dele. – Cher.

- Eu mesma. Nunca erra não é? Sempre sabe quando tem alguém. Você me chamou hoje a noite, lembra? Para nós divertir. – Ela vestia pouca roupa e suas pernas estavam totalmente expostas. Ele jogou uma quantia de dinheiro em seu colo.

-Adeus. – Ela saiu sorrindo e se foi.

- Agora, eu sei quem é você. É filha do magnata que trabalha para aquela família do riquinho nojento. Sempre quis meter um soco naquela filho da puta. – Ele pegou uma sacola de veludo na jaqueta e tirou de lá vários colares e diamantes.

- Hey! Isso é deles! – falei.

- Era. Eles não vão sentir falta e eu preciso comer. Me chamo Niall Horan. – Ele tirou a mascara e o reconhecei.

- O ladrão e assassino?

- Esse mesmo. Mas não vou te matar. Nem pedir resgate. – Ele caminhou em direção a cozinha – Você veio por vontade própria. Mas…- Ele abriu a geladeira, pegou uma latinha de cerveja, abriu e tomou um gole. – se falar onde moro para qualquer um que seja, eu te mato. Estamos entendido? – Ele voltou para a sala, sentou no sofá e ligou a televisão.

- Onde fica o banheiro? – Perguntei.

- Corredor, antes da escada.

- Obrigada. – Fui até onde ele disse e me olhei no espelho.

Se eu voltasse, teria que aturar o Brayn e nem tinha ideia do que ele poderia fazer comigo. Minha família , para manter o poder, iria obrigar a me casar com ele. Derramei uma lágrima fria sobre meu rosto ainda mais frio só de pensar. Nem minha própria família  iria me ajudar a me livrar daquele idiota. As lágrimas aumentaram e escorreram mais rápido juntamente com soluços.

- Hey, ele te machucou? Digo… te estuprou?- Niall apareceu na porta dizendo aquilo. – Porque se sim, eu te levo na polícia. Se quiser, eu… – Abracei-o e chorei tudo o que podia.

Ele me apertou contra o peito. Por ser um assassino, ele tinha coração. Acabei adormecendo em seus braços após muito chorar.

Acordei com um raio de sol no meu rosto e um cheiro de álcool no ar. Niall estava deitado no chão com uma garrafa de vocda pela metade ao lado e eu em sua cama de casal. Em cima da cômoda, um bilhete escrito de azul:

“Será que ela aceitaria ficar comigo?”

No momento, não sabia se o bilhete era para mim, mas senti que fosse. Levantei e desci a procura do banheiro em que estive na noite anterior. Ao encontrar, lavei o rosto e quando fui me olhar no espelho, vi Niall com o mesmo papel em sua mão. Ele soltou aquele papelzinho, me abraçou por trás e beijou meu pescoço.

- Fica comigo? Não vá. Sou tão sozinho. – seu bafo de álcool era forte e sua voz manhosa. – Fica ou se case com aquele brutamontes. –ele fez uma pausa- Eu prometo que vou cuidar de você. Estouro o saco dele se ele chegar a 1m de você. – seus braços me envolviam mais. Senti o calor do seu corpo tocar o meu gelado.

- Mas Niall…eu… – fui cortada.

- Você não precisa ter medo de mim. Prometo que nunca lhe farei mal.

Olhei em seus olhos através do espelho e abri a boca para dar minha resposta.


AGRADECIMENTOS: A capa feita por elisa-horan20. Obrigada Elisa. 

3 men arraigned over possesion of dane guns

3 men arraigned over possesion of Dane guns

Three men, Jibrin Chindo, Suleiman Hamza and Abdullahi Sule on Friday appeared before a Senior Magistrate’ Court sitting at Karu in the FCT charged with alleged unlawful possession of Dane guns.

They are facing a two-count charge of joint act and unlawful possession of firearms.

The Police Prosecutor, Sgt. Adams Peter, told the court that one ASP. Goke Babajide and his team attached to the…

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I’m so amused right now omg last night I tweeted that “March comes in like a lion” sketch and this morning I was complaining about the humidity/weather and now Barry Crimmins tweeted “Now that March has come in like a lion, climatologists project a 64% likelihood that it simply will not leave”.

( ❛ escape from reality ; faris & nox )

The apartment was calm and quiet, the walls which usually riverberated with the echoes of heated aguements and the blood spilled from bruised knuckles were eerily silent. Upon arriving home that day she’d been greeted by Farnsworth, the man her parents had hired to keep a watch over her, as if he were a private investigator or a parol officer and she were a dangerous crimminal, had given her a message from her parents. Something had come up with her father’s work, or his whores, and her parents would be out of town for the rest of the weekend. But as always, they’d be watching. She’d rolled her eyes when she received the notice, acting under the pretense of apathy to conceal how she truly felt about the matter — the feelings she always buried deep inside, compartmentalized, supressed in the hopes that they would dissipate.

At that moment Farnsworth was out attending to more important matters, having left the girl with specific instructions to be good, instructions she’d merely scoffed at. But in the silence of the empty house, walking around in merely an oversized shirt and barely visible shorts, a bottle of jack in one hand and a cigarette hanging from her lips, she finds herself bored. Without anyone to antagonize she is left with the realization of just how utterly alone she really is. She considers texting someone, but who? The newly reformed Asia who wouldn’t offer her anything more than companionship, friendship, emotions that she doesn’t want to deal with right now? Her fellow poet Pierre who would offer her energy and fun, but wouldn’t entertain her need for melancholy? Her dealer and nothing more, or so she tells herself, Dakota who would merely grant her the drugs she requires at a price? No — she can’t rely on any of them, can’t reach out to them for a conversation, sympahty, something with meaning.

A knock on the door, a blessing that she’ll never admit to appreciating, breaks her from her thoughts, and she walks over, not bothering to lose the cigarette or alcohol that she holds. She prepares a scowl on her lips for when she opens the door, wanting the other party to know their intrusion isn’t welcome, but the expression quickly drops as she pulls the wooden door to the side revealing the one friend she hadn’t thought to contact. “Clyde?” His nickname falls from her lips like a question, her lips turning up into a smile as she leans against the doorframe, hand on her hip. “Did we have an engagement I forgot about? Was I supposed to meet you at the bank?”