It was a little over two years ago that she'd first decided that her decent into Hell had gone far enough. The memories crashed in on her tonight; she was not sure why. Maybe it was the sound of the man's voice in alley, maybe it was the weather, maybe it was just fate or fate's cruel cousin, spite.

Barely able to stay awake, it had been a day or two since she lasted used. Who could tell how long it had been? Going from one cesspool to another, giving everything she had, including herself, to some sleaze for a few moments of peace. She stumbled along the alley and heard bits and pieces of an approaching argument.

"Forgiveness is the main theme, at least the way I look at it, but I see your point about redemption," said Voice One.

"Redemption is vital, without it we cannot approach the throne!" was Voice Two's response.

"But we can't afford redemption. We've tried and failed. That's why redemption had to bought for us. It was a gift in the form of forgiveness and sacrifice..."

And she was upon them. Middle aged suburban scum who should've stayed home tonight. She needed whatever they had - money, watched, cards - so she could get what she really needed. She jumped the second voice and he immediately fell. The first grabbed he and pried her off. Surprisingly strong for his looks. He looked at her and it was his eyes that stopped her.

She didn't remember if it was the drug, if it was withdrawal or just his eyes, but she stopped cold. There was something different about those eyes, but indescribable. She wanted to stare at them all night and at the same time rip them from their sockets. She hated what they represented - family, peace, love, self worth and joy. All the things that she needed.

Home, she loved thinking about that word, was a one bedroom sublet. The money she made as a delivery "boy" was just enough to pay the bills. For now. The "Incident" (It had now become capitalized in her mind, perhaps to emphasize the change it had brought) was changing that. She would be starting school next week, something she thought she would never do, much less look forward to doing. Graphic Arts. It had been her dream as a kid and had been destroyed by the choices she'd made. She could hardly believe that she was enrolled and her tuition paid in full. But it came at a price, like all things of value.

She saw those eyes one last time before going clean. They were alone at Mom & Pop store she was about to clean out. The gun made her feel in control, at least when she wasn't shaking form withdrawal and fear. He just stood there, by the chips and looked at her. Even when she pressed the gun to his forehead, he didn't say a word and just looked. It wasn't a stare, really, but a look. And all those things were still there, leaping out at her, begging her to go after her real dreams and hopes. Commanding her to give up the chemical chase and instead accept hope. A thousand things flew out from those eyes that she could barley comprehend, but she was secretly thankful for each and every one. She left without taking a thing and within a week was struggling with her new sobriety.

The price was only as high as she allowed it to be, though. No one was around to ensure its payment, except her. But she knew she was more than capable of paying this debt. The only price she had to pay was to be successful, to work hard, and to become the artist she knew she could be. The artist he knew she could be.