[ WP ] `` I 'm sorry , but the thing you were looking for is sold out . ''

[ slightly NSFW. ] 
 
 `` We're out of Doze, Pim.'' 
 
 `` What? You ca n't be fucking serious! I need it!'' 
 
 `` I'm sorry, girl. The government convoy was attacked by rebels and never made it to the city.'' 
 
 ``... fuck. Are you sure you're all dry? Do n't you have any hidden stash or shit like that, for rainy days?'' 
 
 `` No, Pim. And you should go to detox. You look like crap, girl.'' 
 
 `` FUCK YOU of course i look like shit, i'm in a fucking withdrawal crisis! And do n't go father advice on me, you prick! Just because you're both my pusher and my ex does n't allow you to give a fuck about what i do!'' 
 
 She stumbled out of the small apartment in block 4433 of Neo York. Her pusher -and ex boyfriend- lived a few yards away from her flat. She slowly climbed down the raw, cold concrete stairs. Walking was becoming difficult. Every inch of her thin, muscular body was aching. The withdrawal from Doze was a bitch to deal with. Doze was a synthetic drug developed after 2115, taken in the form of pills, or cut with alcoholic beverages. It was a substitute for heroin, since all opiates were nearly extinct, after WW3 wiped 98 % of middle east out of the planet. 
 
 She finally reached the front door. It was raining, outside. She saw herself mirrored in the glass of the entrance. Her auburn hair with that shocking pink strand falling on her face was a mess. Her green eyes had black makeup smeared all across her face because of the tears. Her purple lipstick was slightly smudged on a side, giving her a weird grin. Her tanktop was loose, was stained, probably saliva or sperm, and gave just a hint of her small breasts, leaving her belly uncovered. Tight leather pants wrapped her thin hips and tonic legs all down to her ankles. Her black boots, untied, had stains of mud. She lowered her eyes. She could n't stand the sight of what she had become. 
 
 Step after step, she almost shivered as the sliding door opened her way to the street outside. Above her, she was sure, it was raining. But the Skyways prevented the rain from falling to the ground. The sky was just a memory, for those who could n't afford living on the Upper Decks. 
 
 She found herself moving aimlessly in a side alley, around the slums of the Old Town. Her body froze as she heard a noise coming from behind her. As she tried to turn around, a strong grip was already clinching her arm, and slamming her down on the concrete. 
 
 `` who are you? What do you want?'' She asked. But as she looked back up, she immediately knew *what* was going on. A man, his face shrouded by the neon lights, was standing above her. She could recognize the grin his mouth, and the hands reaching for his crotch. 
 
 `` No... no no no no, please, no. I can give you money! But please, do n't...'' she begged, tears already running down her eyes, trying to crawl away from him. But before she could finish the sentence, she was already having her mouth forced open. 
 
 *Help... i'm being... raped*. But no words came out of her mouth. Her mind was blurred by the withdrawal, nothing was making any sense. She could feel nothing. 
 
 After what could have been an hour, or a minute, or a day, after he finished on her, he slid a thin, lucent blade out of his pocket, and dove it in her abdomen, four times. 
 
 `` I'm sorry. But i ca n't go back to prison.'' 
 
 She was left there, on the concrete, with her clothes ripped away. Bleeding, a stab wound to her stomach, a rapist's sperm staining her face and chest. 
 
 *The pain... it's flowing away... *, she thought, as her vision faded.
