With nothing to do apart from staring at an ornate door which now bore an imprint of her hand she turned on her heels, back to her old van and to the ...est of her duties. ‘Ay fuckface pass the ball!’ Charles bellowed to the screen, his voice soon cut off by the rock music blaring out of the mismatched speakers. Through the smoke the name of their fine establishment VA-1 Hall-A flickered in garish neon, or to its patrons valhalla. This is where people came to find answers, usually at the bottom. She would bring along jerrycans and ration packs and enjoy her treasures and the intensity of her own self-made environment. It was an island for her. A necessary one because most people would not understand her, they would simply judge her with the mentality of sheep. A closed mentality. While she was alive, she would be dutiful to her own sensuality and pleasures. She would explore the darkest recesses of her female brain and bring fantasy to life. What society didn't know about, didn't. More

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