It's not like Nico meant to get into a fight.

Atleast thats how she thought it. It was impossible to know what really happened as any detail was blurry. The most anyone knew was

Nico had been provoked by someone

That someone wasn't known, like the details were

She wasn't the only one that threw fists.

She had walked back to her "house" with a bloodied nose and bruises

She had failed to treat any scrape or cut so she had infected wounds

Her clothes had been torn and had holes in it.

This was all anyone knew except for the police. That was the last thing the poor "orphan" needed. Nico couldn't possibly go to jail. She pondered on it. It'd be better than the hole in the wall where her and other run-away orphans came. No food, murky and dirty water, and no change of clothes. Stealing was anyone's gig. If Nico had been caught stealing and was convicted for every time she stole her sentences would add up like LEGO bricks. But if she was convicted for those crimes, and the assualt she had just pulled? Her kids would go to jail, her kids kids would go to jail, and longer. She sat in the corner, watching the littler orphans play around. She smiled. This reminded her of the way she was started.

It was a topic Nico cried about. The only thing the brown eyed black haired girl would cry on. She hates that topic. It brought her up. She looked at her cuts. Scabs over very few. The ones that had scabs were dark green and it hurt when she touched them. 

"Tag you're it!" Shouted Molly, Nico's little sister.. figuratively, anyways. 

"I'll get you!" Chase, another teen who always played with the kids, laughed. 

Nico looked at  cat long sleeved shirt with Cat print. Pink wasn't her color but it brought a smile to Molly's face whenever she wore it. 

A year or two back, when Molly first came around, she had been scavenging dumpsters for clothing. She had found this shirt and she couldn't fit into it. When her and Nico became friends, Molly had gifted it to her. Nico kept it for Molly. Not because she liked it. No way! She thought. How could I like this it's so pink and girly and .. cute. She groaned. She did like the shirt but not in the way it came into her possession. 

Her feet dangled off the side of the chair. Thoughts of the fight filled her head. 

Morgan had told Nico that her and one of the little kids couldn't be near them because of their living conditions. 

"I don't know why you want us out but we're not leaving." Nico said as she tried to walk off.

"Why do you have to be so grouchy about it?" Morgan asked.

"You little-" She turned and punched him.

It was all her thoughts could force. Anything else would force her to cry. A lot of Morgan's posey saw it. Also the little one, Jasmine. The young scrappy and hungry "Alexander Hamilton" to Nicos "John Laurens". It ruined her to think she saw Nico Ramirez beat up Morgan McGuire. If Jasmine tried anything...oh dear. 

Nico stopped herself from further bringing herself into her depression. Since Nico had no one she was her own safety net and the never ending black hole, sucking the void, all powerful, all hungry, mental disorder called Depression was the ground. If she hit it she'd spiral. 

She walked over to the spot she declared was her bedroom away from her bedroom. She laid on the cold and solid ground of what, she assumed, used to be a metal work. She closed her eyes and listened to the children playing and the water dripping out from a pipe beside her. 

This may not be the easiest way to live but she loved every second of it.

Soon her thoughts became dreams as her breathing slowed and she felt asleep.

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