Okay, so I apologise for the shortness of this. I'm just trying to get into it and...It's just short. Also, there will be a lot of backtracking and such.

''Why are you here? I told you to stay away.'' There came a pause and the voice became stone cold. ''What part of that are you having trouble in understanding?''

There came no answer, like always, and Alan waited, hand loosening on the knife ever so slightly. Of course he wouldn't have listened. It was typical of Edgar to never listen, to always do what he pleased. The knife was put down, and Alan's eyes moved slowly along the wall, face empty of any emotion, though there seemed to be a harsh, cold, look in his eyes. He remained still, waiting, and listening to the smallest movements Edgar made. The chains on the wall clinked together when he lightly banged his fists down onto the table seconds later, sending vibrations all along the floor.

Edgar remained unfazed by the frustration he knew Alan was feeling at him being there. His eyes remained still, calm as stone, and he watched Alan, his movements, although his back was still to him. Without knowing, a revolting look filled his face when the foul rotting stench rolled all around him, only becoming worse, stronger with every passing minute. It began to become imprinted into his mind, sticking onto him like flies and maggots would to a dead rotting fish, and he turned away for a second, hiding the expression, even though Alan paid him no attention. He still remained still, bent over the table, hands resting on the edge of the wood. His fingers dug into the table, peeling away flakes of old gloss. A splinter slipped underneath his nail, sinking into the skin, and a small droplet of blood spilled down his pale finger. Alan lifted it then, examining it with that same empty expression. That rising of the harshness took over, and he pulled the splinter out, flexing his finger for a second.

A small dark look shadowed across his face as his eyes moved over the table. His hand moved then, fingers brushing along all the instruments. Edgar remained still behind him, still lent up against the wall, that same calm expression in his eyes as he watched Alan carefully, almost cautiously. This didn't bother Alan, not really. It didn't bother him that Edgar felt small quantities of fear around him; fear that he would surely give in. It started to fade, all this numbness he had felt within. Now, he wanted Edgar gone, to walk out the door, and feel that satisfaction when it slammed shut behind him. He wanted to hear his boots crunch along the gravel, the door to his truck open, the ignition start…

His hand stopped, and the darkness slipped like a mask coming off a face, concealing everything. Fingers wrapped around the handle, and he slid the blade along the table, letting the sound of varnish peel fill in that silence. In a second, he was cutting, and it was now the sound of flesh being torn that took over. A foreign brutality came into his eyes as he slid the blade along the flesh, watching the blood run along the table, like a tomato being cut upon a board. It was nothing like that. His hand became painted in crimson, and he ignored Edgar altogether, but that anger seemed to rise when he felt him behind him, just standing and watching.

''Care to help me, Edgar.'' His voice was cold, yet empty of anything else at the same time. ''We could have a lot of fun.''

Edgar moved then, and the wooden chimes hanging from the wall came together when his shoulder brushed lightly past them. He stopped and inspected his boots, as if fascinated by them. ''As much as that is appealing to me, Alan.'' Sarcasm dripped from his voice. ''I'll pass.''

He looked up a minute later. ''Nobody is talking.''

Alan continued cutting, and there came no change of expression. Just that same distant, cold look was there. A bitter, yet hateful smile slipped onto his lips as Edgar's words swam in his mind. ''You've already told me this once, Edgar. In fact every time you come here.'' The smile slipped when there came no answer. ''Why are you here?'' The question was asked again, only this time Alan wanted an answer. His eyes became back cold. ''I told you to stay away from here.'' His yanked the blade along the stomach of the dead animal. ''I don't want you here, Edgar.''

There came a sigh and it sounded frustrated and pained to Alan. He continued spilling guts upon the table, but his eyes closed for a second. It was for his own good. Alan really didn't want to see Edgar, not like he was. They were apart, no more connected, but they were becoming more distant. Edgar was slipping further away, and Alan knew it was for the best. How he was, it was definitely for the best. Danger. Yes, he was in danger, as the hunger became worse when Edgar moved around, his scent like a strong perfume in the air. It lingered long after he left, and it was desirable.

The door slammed shut, eyes opened, and Alan continued his work, his way to get food.

The light streamed in through the blinds and Alan's eyes instantly snapped open. A thud came and his eyes moved downwards. It took him a minute to see what was before him. His hand bent down, retrieving the thing that had fallen. Off him. Alan stopped, inspecting it with a blank gaze. Something he hadn't seen before. His eyes skimmed over the writing, trying to take something in. The book in which he had never laid eyes upon. He turned the page, and another, till his eyes stopped on something. It was small, very few words, but there was no mistaking whose writing that belonged to.

The book was tucked underneath his arm and he stood, eyes raking over everything, seeing, checking for anything. They stopped, and he managed to form one word. ''Edgar.''

To say she was somewhat surprised at seeing Alan was an understatement. They didn't know each other, not really. It was Edgar who she had loved, Edgar who had been her friend. He was the one she had a weird friendship of a connection with, not Alan. It was only during that time did they start to interact, but that was all. All for Edgar, all about Edgar, just Edgar. But he was gone now. Alan had no reason to bother her, and she didn't mind, didn't care. Now, she pondered on why he was there. It just brought memories back when she saw Alan. The times when her and Edgar would spend hours, leafing through his comics, pricing them, well, more like her, as he sat and inspected his weapons and read things on vampires and other things she wasn't familiar with. Edgar spoke, but she was the one who did the most talking. He...just listened, an odd word being given here and there. At that time, Edgar really wasn't himself, and Zoe knew all about them, all about what he did, and Alan. She knew, she had her own secrets too, but she liked Edgar, enjoyed his company, and what he did for people. She enjoyed helping him, and he interested her with the things he inspected, observed, and looked into. She'd ask things whilst looking and observing, and this seemed to be the only subject that really brought some part of him to life. She hadn't met Alan, and she didn't want to, but when he told her at what he was doing, the rave, she was in.

After, it seemed to get better, not like it once was, as Edgar had said to her, confided in her, but he seemed better. They spent time together, hanging out, eating whilst bending over comics and other things the two liked and, as always, she asked questions. He answered with that same interest, but he seemed more alive, more brighter, and a smirk was even given, and even during that time, she didn't bother with his brother. Sure, they saw each other when he was with Edgar, but there were never any conversations struck up. It was just Edgar she liked, Edgar who was her friend...right until three months later, when the world crashed down on all three of them.

Their friendship was dead now, Edgar was dead now, and she missed him. Zoe missed Edgar a lot those days.

A smile came onto her face, though it never reached her eyes. ''Alan.'' There was no smile given in return and hers slipped when she saw the expression upon his face. He looked tired, like he hadn't long awoke, and judging from the clothes he was in, he hadn't. The same ones he had worn to the funeral, the fake funeral for Edgar. A sad look crossed her face but it disappeared when he moved towards her. She noted the book in his hand, and a curiosity came.

''You were out last night?'' His voice seemed hollow to her ears, and he moved around the counter. His eyes went around for a second, before they went to her. ''Did you?''

A puzzled expression took over and then realisation when his eyes pierced hers. ''Ye…How did…?'' A shake of the head came, silence, and then she shrugged slightly, not really caring. ''Yes, I was. Why?''

The book was slammed down onto the counter, being immediately opened. He looked at her with a seriousness and, with a furrow of the brow, she moved around the counter, sidling up next to him. His finger came down onto the page when he skimmed through it about a quarter of a way through.

Zoë stopped, interest melting altogether. Her eyes met Alan's. ''Am I…''

''So it seems…'' Alan looked back down at the page. ''Edgar paid me a visit last night.'' There was nothing to his voice or face. ''And a little message with this…gift he has given me.''

Zoe swallowed, not knowing what to say. Her voice became a whisper when someone walked into the store.'' Alan?'' She kept her eyes on the book. ''Am I in danger?''

''It'll be free for you, baby.''

A high pitched laugh came, and eyes narrowed slightly. Her smile exposed the torn skin of her lips, all hard and cracked from the thick lipstick smeared messily around, and her breath fanned towards him; a mixture of whiskey and mints. She lent up against the wall, mouth chomping on the bubblegum she chewed on. Her dark brown eyes might have been pretty once, but they seemed dead now, no light within them. His eyes moved, trailing up her arm, seeing all the light, blodgy, bruises covering her skin. Dark chestnut hair was scraped up into a messy bun, and amongst the hair clips and other tacky frilly things, his eyes made out the needle lurking amongst it all. Junkie. Not that he had to look to know. Just the smell of her told him she was a needle taker, pumping the heroin into her blood. Surprisingly, although she looked like someone who had been sleeping rough in the gutter (which she most likely had) her teeth were a cleanly white, all cared for.

''So, how about it, sugar?'' A flash of the smile came from her and she blew a bubble. Irritation pooled within and his eyes moved towards her face, narrowing a little more. A glint moved within his eyes, and anger bubbled to the surface when she continuously chomped down on her gum like a cow eating grass. Her hand trailed down her cheap corset that was hanging together by pins. It was withdrawn a second later, cigarette and lighter coming with it. The chewing gum was removed from her mouth, being pressed behind her ear, and she brought the cigarette to her lips. He watched in silence, eyes cold and full of an irritation that grew by the minute. The smoke pooled around her, and she moved away from the wall, walking towards him, walking towards the shadows in which he was close by to.

She stopped an inch away from him, and she laughed slightly, cigarette coming to lips once again. He watched her suck on the cancer stick and just as she blew the smoke towards his face, he was grabbing her by hers. His fingers dug hard into her cheeks, making her eyes water for a second, and before she could let out a scream when she saw the monstrous face in which he changed to, she was yanked into the darkness.

He came out with that same coldness in his eyes, though the irritation had instantly evaporated. Between his fingers was the cigarette in which she had been smoking, and he stopped when it was brought to his mouth, all pink along the butt of it. It was crushed into his hand a second later, becoming nothing but dust. Hands came to pockets and a fresh packet was brought out. Lighting one up, his eyes moved along the street, skimming over the few people out with a look of boredom and coldness. The end of his coat billowed slightly from the light wind that swept towards him, and he began to move then, cigarette coming to lips, eyes moving around with un interest and boredom.

His eyes moved ahead then, and a small narrow came again when his eyes landed upon a petite figure moving, eyes on the ground, right towards him. He didn't move to the side as he got closer, but continued walking, waiting for her to notice. Cigarette was flicked away, and hands came to trench coat pockets, burying themselves deep within. He was still hungry, still pissed off, and all he wanted to do was fucking find someone who tasted a lot better than the whore he had just consumed. He could feel her blood moving around, all the shit with it. It wasn't good to feed on a person who pumped a shit load of drugs into their system, but her voice alone began to piss him off.

Just as he moved another step, she crashed straight into him, the impact making her fall backwards. He could have stopped it, grabbed her if he wanted; instead he watched as she fell to the ground, item in hand skidding along the floor. A blink came, surprise and shock took over, and shaking her head, feeling stunned, her eyes moved slowly up towards him. Cheeks burned red, and another blink came.

''Oh my goodness.'' A wince came when she inspected the cuts and scratches on her hands. ''I'm so sorry. I...'' She looked at the hand in which was offered and then to his blank face, to those eyes that were now calm as they stared at her. She was hauled up and she sharply withdrew her hand from his chilled one. Hands dusted her dress down and an apologetic look came. ''I was in my own world.'' Her eyes looked at him. ''Are you alright?''

He looked at her for some seconds, and his lips moved. ''Absolutely fine.''

A warm smile took over, though the embarrassment was still there. ''Hey, I'm Jasmine.

Those eyes never wavered as he stared. ''Edgar''

A nod came and she bent down, retrieving the book in which she had dropped. ''Nice to meet you. Ummm... '' She stood. ''Look, I work at the little cafe just two blocks away. Butterfly-''

''I know which one'' he answered, voice blank.

''Right. If you ever want a drink, food...go there.'' She shrugged lightly. ''Free of charge for my apology at rudely knocking into you.''

He put on a smirk, though it was only half. ''I might take you up on that''

A smile came onto hers, so wide he expected her face to split. ''Great! I'm really sorry about that again, and I hope to see you around, Edgar.