Nic was beginning to regret her trip to Watershed Heights. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't shake the image of the blood spewed all over the street, the flattened face with pieces of skull poking through the forehead, his crushed toes on the smooth asphalt of the street. Up until then, the bloodiest thing she had ever seen was the cut across Henry's finger when he accidentally slit it open with a steak knife, and even then Henry immediately wrapped it in a napkin so she only caught a brief glimpse of it. She missed Henry. Badly. Very badly, but she didn't know if that was enough to make her get back on that subway train and go back to those awful people that she was ashamed to share DNA with. She was sitting on the edge of the broken fountain on a roundabout that had become sort of a symbol of Watershed Heights. Something that could have maybe been beautiful and functional at some point, but that was so long ago that nobody seemed to like it or respect it. Nic stood up, turned around and spit into the filthy water that had collected at the bottom of the fountain. She had seen at least three other people spit into this water and thought that if she did it, she would become connected to watershed heights. If she ever left town, those few drops of saliva would always be there as  part of the filthy water in that broken fountain. Watershed heights may not have been the prettiest or the safest place that Nic had ever been to but it did have one major thing going for it; it wasn't home.