can't you help me Im bent,
Im so scared that Ill never
Get put back together

(MATCHBOX 20 :BENT)

The presiding judge flipped through the folder which had been handed to him, then looked up over the rims of his glasses at the subject of the session. She stood quietly between the two bailiffs, the lawyer that State had assigned to her on one side. She looked docile, pale and fragile, the judge thought. Nothing like what the files held on her.

Miss --, for one year you were an inmate at the Juvenile Detention Centre, followed by two years and 5 months in the Womens Rehabilitation Centre. Is that correct?

There was a slight pause. The girl blinked dark eyes, then looked up slowly.

Yes.

Another one, the judge thought in disgust. Rehabilitated, but spirit thoroughly broken. Hers had been a strange case culminating in a manhunt from one end of the state to another, it sounded like, but there wasnt fight left in this girl.

Originally your sentence was for 5 years in rehabilitation, but due to reports of exemplary behaviour you were offered parole in 3 years. The judge looked up from the file. As he had expected, she dropped her gaze. He found himself wondering whether she had had too much of a hard time in the rehab centres. He had always been of the opinion that even after 18 some of the new inmates were too vulnerable for even low-security prisons. Some accused him of leniency, but he had seen enough petty criminals turned into hardened lawbreakers by a stint in the wrong prisons.

Parole granted. For the next year you will make monthly reports to your parole officer who will be assigned to you after this hearing. Failure to do so will result in parole being withdrawn and you will be forced to serve the remainder or your sentence or have it extended. This is a friendly warning, young woman. Other than that, you are free to go. This court is adjourned.

The gavel came down with a decisive snap.

She stumbled out into the street like a deer caught in headlights.

It was a beautiful, sunny, California day. Everything seemed to move in a rapid blur, as if it was all a dream.

Free. She was free at last of it all.

Hey, lady! said the cabby, I don't have all day. You gonna pay, or what? He looked at the slender, dark-haired girl suspiciously, wondering if she was high. Shed been really quiet in the back, looking out of the window with a kind of spaced-out smile on her face and sometimes laughing to herself for no reason. Man, whyd he always get the headcases?

Oh, sorry, said the chick. She fished out a creased fold of bills from the rear pocket of her black PVC pants and counted out the fare. Thanks for the ride.

He grunted as he fished around for the change. You OK, lady? I mean, this is LA, can't go walkin around with your head in the clouds.

She laughed, shaking back her hair, and flashed him a brilliant smile. She was a looker, he had to admit, but then LA was full of lookers. Five by five, man. Five by five.

The bell over the door tinkled as it opened, letting out a puff of sandalwood incense onto the street through the bead curtain.

Rina Starburst turned her head, just barely. Even that slight movement made all her antique Indian jewellery clash like castanets. She did not stir from her place behind the counter. After all, her customers did not come here for the service. They came to be thrilled, frightened and treated with mysterious brusqueness by a mystic with heavily-kohled eyes.

Young girl. There was no better kind of customer. Huge gullibility, enough insecurity and often a willingness to spend money.

Hello, little one. Her dark, sultry voice was an asset in her trade and Rina knew it. She angled her head so her dramatic grey-streaked black hair dropped to curtain her face as she watched the girl walk over to a tray of scattered daggers. Welcome to the Cave of Wonders.

There were a few clinks, then the girl took up a curvy, silver-bladed dagger with a winking red stone embedded in its hilt.

Good choice. Rina raise and eyebrow and closed the Book of Shadows she had been flipping through with black-nailed fingers. Do you know what you hold in your hands, child?

The girl turned halfway, wavy dark hair falling over one shoulder.

Hmm.let me see. Not even a run-of-the-mill athame. Stainless steel, machine-cut with a plasticised handle, squiggles that are supposed to pass for runes and a paste jewel. In fact, that would describe all the knives you have here, the girls said pleasantly. I couldnt even use them to cut cheese.

Both Rinas eyebrows went up, but she had to admire boldness. You think you know the occult, my girl? Do you presume to know more than I?

The girl tilted her head and considered the woman behind the shadowy counter who could easily have made two of her. No. Actually Id say you know a good lot, but you like to make quick money and youre choosy about who you do the real stuff for. Id say she stalked across the shop, pausing to trail a finger over a carved chest or to touch a packet of dried herbs. That you keep the real stuff under the counter. Or maybe here. With fingers whose nails were bitten down she pushed aside a pile of old sci-fi magazines and picked up a rusted iron knife shorter than her forearm. This now. Etruscan dagger, Id say used before in a consecration ritual because of this dark stain on the edge. Bulls blood

Why are you here? Rina cut her off. This was no curious tourist.

You need someone to help in the store and I need a job, the girl said matter-of-factly.

For the first time, Rina smiled. Well, you obviously know your knives.

Oh trust me, I know my knives. The names Faith, by the way.

It was raining outside, a rare storm. She was cold.

Not only because this apartment she had managed to rent was like an oven when it was hot and an icebox when it was cold. This was the cold from inside that had been with her since three years ago. The cold that wrapped itself around her like a ghost and made her teeth chatter.

Loneliness.

There was only one cure: get out.

With a sound of desperation, Faith grabbed her jacket and $20. Not that she could really afford to spend it.

The club was packed as usual, the crush of moving bodies giving off sweat and frenzy and most importantly heat. Where she could touch and be touched without anyone ever knowing her name. Where the harsh thrum of the music could, like a drug, bring forgetfulness.

She danced till the sweat covered her skin with an oily sheen, till her throat went dry.

Lemon Russki. She couldnt figure how the bartender could hear anything over the music, but he nodded and moments later an uncapped bottle was shoved in front of her. Her vision wavered at the edges and she blinked, leaning against the bar to survey the crowd. It was hard, young and drug-driven. Not one of the clean, mainstream clubs LA was famous for. It was perfect, if you watched your drink carefully.

Which one young woman at the other end of the bar obviously hadnt. Faiths eyes narrowed as she watched the three men joking and laughing with the bottle-blond, who was beginning to look distinctly unwell. One of them had his hand up her miniskirt, and the woman nearly lost her balance as she turned to slap at his wrist, falling into the arms of the second man as the three of them laughed.

Stupid bitch. Faith shook her head. The girl was young, maybe even underage, and even in her trash-punk getup it was obvious that she was rich. The diamond pendant on an almost invisible chain at her collarbone was real, like the Prada bag she was clutching, and her fingernails were perfectly manicured. Stupid little rich girl to come down here.

It was none of her business. Shed put the fighting behind her. Besides, she was on parole. No good drawing attention to yourself when youre trying to build a new life.

The quartet had to pass her on their way to the fire exit.

Come on, baby, she heard one of the thugs say. Well take care of you. My head hurts, the girl was saying as they pulled her along. God, I need to sit downneed an Aspirin

What you need is fresh air. The skinhead, obviously the ring-leader, gave a nasty laugh. Youll feel fucking great when you get outside just wait and see.

Hey, Faith caught the barkeeps eye and beckoned him over with a crooked finger. Those guys over there with the blond babe? Theyre stoned up to their eyeballs.

The bartender looked at them, then back at her. Everyone heres stoned up to their eyeballs.

Bastard. Faith cocked one eyebrow. Shouldnt somebody be doing something about it?

He began drying glasses, his silver rings clinking on their smooth, brittle sides. Whos gonna do the doing?

Mentally she saw her hand shoot out, smash a glass on the counter and slash through his flesh so blood spattered over the bench.

Nope, can't do that anymore because its wrong.

Who was she kidding, she wasnt any fucking hero. Should just sit and mind her own business and do what she came to do.

It had stopped raining outside but the steel steps were still glistening wet and there were puddles in the alley. She could hear the whimpers from the moment the door swung shut behind her.

"Please..please don't"

"Shut up, ya bitch!" Slayer hearing picked up the sound of ripping fabric then the louder laughter of men gripped with the insanity of a combination of lust and violence.

"Please." The sound of groggy crying. "There's m..money in my bag, you can take it"

"We'll take that and something else too, won't we?" Again the laughter.

Her boots hit wet asphalt and she stopped. They were standing at the wall that dead-ended the alley, their backs to her as they pinned their drugged victim up against the rough brick, two holding her arms and the other busy removing her skirt which would shortly join the ripped-off bra and hose lying on the ground.

"Well, well, well."

The ringleader spun on his heel to see a slight girl standing with the light of the lamp behind her, legs spread in a masculine stance. As his alcohol-sozzled brain slowly grasped the situation, she calmly struck a match and he saw her face in the light of the flame. Instantly, he relaxed.

"Hey babe. Wanna join the party?"

She looked him over with dark eyes. "With three jerks who can't even show a girl a motel room? Dream on."

He came forward menacingly. "What if I said you can't go now that you've stuck your fuckin' nose in? " Behind him one of his flunkies had already moved into position with the skinny blond, mauling her breasts and ripping at her panties.

"Oooh, you big bad man, you're scaring me," she said in a little girl falsetto.

He grabbed her arm.

And found himself on his face kissing the pavement. She cracked her foot into his side for good measure and the last thing he thought before he passed out was how someone so small could kick like some fucking horse.

Faith jerked the second one off the girl by his ponytail and snapped his head up with a fist to the chin followed by a heel in the belly which doubled him up and sent him flying into some trash cans. The third swung around with a knife.

With absolute contempt, she kicked it out of his hand and back-handed him across the face.

Spitting blood and teeth, he made to run but she was on him with a screech like a banshee, whirling him around and slamming him into a wall. Then she gripped him by the hair and did it again. And again. And again.

"You bastard, you sick bastard! You piece of jerk-off no good shit! How dare youhow dare you"

Someone touched her on the shoulder and Faith swung around with an animal growl, ready to strike, her anger boiling over.

The girl cowered back. Her make-up was smeared, her mascara streaking. She was holding her ripped top together with fingers that were no longer so pristine.

The anger drained slowly out of Faith and she shook her head to clear it, letting the man drop. She wanted to kill, to really do someone bad. It screamed in her.

"Ththank you." The girl's shoulders shook. "Whoever you are, you saved me."

Faith stared at her awkwardly. "Come on, we've gotta get you back in." She slipped off her jacket and pulled it around the taller girl's shoulders. "Can you walk?"

She was about to leave the girl at the door when she found her arm being clutched.

"Who are you? What you did, what I saw you do...I've never seen anyone move like that."

"You see it on TV all the time." Cursing herself, Faith turned to go but the hand would not let go of her arm.

"Here." And a bunch of bills was shoved into her hand. "At least take this, its all I have with me but its not too little. Thank you, I can't thank you enough for being so kind."

"No big." Faith stared at the money. There was at least $300 in there, more than she would earn in a week. She started down the stairs, staring at the notes, then paused on the bottom step.

"The name's Faith."