These separate chapters (and others in the future) have been turned into parts.  They were meant to be 1 chapter combined but were posted as multiple.  I'm keeping them as multiple to preserve the votes, reads, and comments on the chapters.

***The Week Before***

Jessie managed to drag her new friend across the road and into the less-than pleasant neighborhood nearby.  This was the part of the city, and every city has at least one, that most people wouldn’t want to stop their car.  Half the time it’s not even the people they’d fear—it’s the current state of the buildings the locals live in.  Hell, the current residents are probably the same ones one would see in the grocery store or serve them at the local restaurant.  Others would probably meet these residents at the beach and nicely say ‘Good day,’ but when someone comes into their neighborhood from the outside suddenly only evil inhabits the streets and everyone is out to get them.

Naturally a precious little girl dragging a sick boy down the streets was not a common sight, especially a little girl who obviously doesn’t fit the stereotype of someone who would actually live here.  The street Jessie found had a steep decline, it was like the middle and upper class intentionally built the road though the lower class portion of town at the very top of a hill to avoid having to look across the filth—to pass it by without ever seeing what was really down the other side of the crest. 

But Jessie breached the crest, and the little girl had no plans of ever looking back.  As she dragged her sick friend down the center of an empty street, past the trash and broken buildings that dared inhabit this place, she looked slowly around her—but not as a little girl, as something different.  There was a new vibe to her, something that was no longer young and innocent.  The girl knew where she was going and was determined to go there—she had no fears and didn’t even bat a eyelash at the desolation around her.  She should be scared, she should be sad—just watching her mother get hit and probably killed.  And in no way should she be near that dying kid behind her. 

Her eyes weren’t young anymore.  Her face no longer had that childish glee.  She transformed the second she woke up in the back of that car.  The child inside her body was dead and something much more has taken its place.  Something much more dangerous, and something that wouldn’t be afraid of the world around it.  Something that brought the smoldering figure behind her into existence.

Jessie came up to a heavy wooden door, now off the street.  She was about half way down the hill and the building in front of her had foggy windows she couldn’t see through.  But unlike the rest of the broken industrial buildings or residential structures this one had what looked like a yellow glow coming from its muddled windows.  Life, existence, help.  She didn’t bother with the dusty wooden sign above its door that said “bar” or the half a dozen waxed up motorcycle’s sitting outside, even if it was near mid-day.  To her fearless face this place show life where no others here had.

She reached up just above her head and grabbed the black worn handle, twisting it till the door clicked open.  Now, a girl her age should struggle to open a door of this stature, if even get it open at all, but she proved to have no problems at pulling it open enough to squeeze her body in.  Inside was a dark haze and it smelled heavily of cigarettes.  The entrance was narrow with black curtains lining against both walls.  It opened to a small cramped space with a single slow-turning fan in the center which seemed to swirl the smoke around instead of actually disperse it.  The actual walls of the place were covered with pictures, mostly those torn from magazines and almost all of them busts of women—majority wearing almost nothing and some appeared to be completely nude. 

The walls were a collage of these posing women, pictures on top of pictures and all stuck to the walls with different means, some with a stapler, some with tacks or taped, and a few seem to just stick with a will of their own.  Away from the walls there were several tables, three booths, and a large counter that went across the length of the interior.  At the far end of the place was a single pool table cramped so well against the wall it looked to be impossible to actually use a cue if the player was on the side with the wall.

Even if it couldn’t be more than two ‘o’clock there were still over half a dozen men occupying the place.  All these men were big and scruffy, most had long beards of varying shades from white to deep black and they were well equipped with leather, metal pins, and plenty of booze.  All the booths were empty, the pool table was unused with the cues lying across its green surface, and the bartender looked to be innocently shuffling around clean glasses from his place safely behind the table.  The bikers, eight in total, were positioned around two square tables near the middle of the bar.  Most were sitting but two were hovering over the rest, all of them looking down at one very interesting object spread out on the middle of both tables.

Due to how carefully and slowly Jessie opened the door the small crowd in the middle took no notice of the intruder.  Jessie held the door slightly more open to help Sean get into the darkness, but it still wasn’t wide enough to cause the light from outside to reach in past the narrow hall.  Once he was in and right next to her, Jessie let the door go and headed further in.  It was then, when the door slammed and the pair of bells at its top jingled, that the small group hovering and muttering about whatever was between them turned up to the entrance. 

“Hey!”  One of the men yelled, when he looked up to realize there wasn’t a man in the room but a little girl.

The bartender was quick to act before things escalated, “I’ll take care of it gentlemen,” he said as pulled down the hide vest he had on and set down a really clean glass he had been wiping with a white towel.  He was around the bar before the group in the middle was even able to hide what they were crowded around and at the entrance a few seconds later, “You lost little girl? You shouldn’t be in here.” 

Jessie looked up at the man innocently enough; he was a younger gentleman, much younger than the scruffy group behind him.  His hair was long and tied in a dirty bun at the back of his head and he had heavy clothing on—probably to act the part of bartender at a biker bar.  “I want…”  Really, she wasn’t sure what she wanted, she just got here—she just woke up.  I guess there could be many things she wanted, but she hadn’t actually thought of any of that.  She just knew she wanted help—human interaction—but didn’t know what for. “Uh…”

“Come on child.”  The bar tender looked over her shoulder to see Sean sitting on the floor, his head was down and he was rocking back and forth—his limbs shaking ever so slightly.

Jessie paid no attention to that, she was thinking of what she wanted, she probably should have thought of this before entering the bar.  She could want her doctor.  Dr. Hemaz always knew exactly what to do.  She could want people she knew before she took this body—but really who from that life would want to see her?  She could want food—she was sort of hungry.  Maybe she wanted to help Sean.  Yes, that was important.  She should have thought of that first—why didn’t she think of that first?  But even so, helping him wasn’t what she really wanted—she just knew it.  But what did she really want?  Why couldn’t she think of what she really wanted?  She knew it was important, deathly important.  But she couldn’t remember what it was.  She tried to look around the bartender, but the man did a very good job at blocking her view.

“Is your friend okay?”  The man said, taking a few steps closer and trying to push Jessie towards the exit.  “Come on, let’s go outside and call for help—he doesn’t look good.  Drugs?”  Drugs and drug addicts were common in this neighborhood, so having them stumbling around was common—but having one with the balls enough to stumble into a bar—and one of this repute was rare, and having a little girl leading the druggie around was even more odd.

“No…  He isn’t.”  Jessie mumbled as she lunged forward managing to get her head around the man’s thighs and catching a glimpse of the inside of the bar with the eight crowded bikers, they were all looking at her, silent.  She caught sight of a revolver attached to one of the men’s belts.  The bartender grabbed her by the waist and tried to pull Jessie away.

“Okay, outside, now.”

Jessie kicked at the man as he lifted her off her feet and pointed past him since she was now able to see over his shoulder.  “I want that one,” she pointed at the guy she saw had the weapon, “To shoot the fat one in the head!” 

“What!” her assaulter reacted bringing her face right in front of his.  A very loud boom filled the room followed with something heavy hitting a table, breaking glass, and crashing to the ground.  The bartender dropped Jessie from his dangling hold a couple feet off the ground and turned around.  One of the tables was on its side several wads of hundred dollar bills were scattered across the floor covered in some kind of white powder.  But that wasn’t what was stunning, it was the large man, beer belly in the air and thick red oozing out from a hold in the center of his forehead.  It was the second man revolver still in his hand and frozen in the air where he had raised it and pulled the trigger. 

The shooter’s was devastated, his companions were just as confused, and the poor guy had no idea how to react or what he just did.  No one moved.  No one looked away from the body on the ground.  They didn’t attack the killer.  Everyone was just as shocked as he was.  A murder, a murder in the bar right in front of a little girl and right after she told him to do it.  Why would the man listen to this girl?

The bartender felt something tugging at the bottom of his dark brown hide coat.  He turned to the little girl with fear plastered over his face.  She wasn’t even bothered by the murder—it was like she didn’t even see it.  Instead she was smiling—that uncertainty she had earlier gone.  She spoke as simply as a little girl could, “Can I have a grill cheese sandwich now?”