Maria Young is lying in a hospital bed, recovering from an unspeakable crime against her body. The violation still burning on the most intimate places; a phantom stink of sweat and cologne clinging to her skin, a stink that no amount of soap and water could wash away. The thought of the crime alone made her sick, causing her to upheave the contents of her stomach.

One of them hit her across the head with something blunt, she couldn't tell what. Maria nearly blacked out, but held on dearly to consciousness. There was another now, standing over her with something shiny in his hand--something metallic.

"...You know what these are?" asked the one they called 'Tommy-Boy,' waving a shiny metal instrument in front of her. Maria thrashed wildly, trying her best to scream, but one of them promptly taped her mouth shut.

When the tears came, she saw no end to them. The nurses would come and check up on her, ask her how she was doing, but she just couldn't articulate a cohesive sentence to even begin to explain how she felt. The emotional weight of what happened to her was nearly unbearable. There was no way in hell they'd understand...

"They're pliers!" the one they called 'Switch,' answered happily.

"I don't know what the true, medical term is, but at any rate, they're used to pull teeth," Tommy-Boy said lowly, sitting on the woman's stomach and placing his feet on her shoulders to steady himself.

Maria could still feel the weight of him on top of her. She could still feel the soles of his boots digging painfully into her arms; she could even his hot breath blowing through her hair. Maria couldn't help but cry out as she could swear she just felt the cool metal of the pliers kiss her face.

She let out a gut wrenching scream when Tommy-Boy tore the tape from her mouth. Suddenly, there was hope. If she made as much noise as possible, she could possibly attract some attention. Odds were that no one would be walking down this lonely street, but it was the only chance she had left.

Tommy-Boy harshly grabbed her jaw, peering into her mouth before squeezing it shut to muffle her pleas for help. "You know...," he began, "your teeth are the only problem! You're growing them everywhere! I recommend IMMEDIATE removal!"

All three of them...laughing. All three of them. The laughter was like some horrible music track put on repeat. Her ears would never escape it.

"We gotta make this quick Tommy-Boy. The chickletts are waiting at the old football field," said another male voice. She never saw his face, but she remembered every touch.

Tommy-Boy was the first, rough, and supremely unfeeling. By the end of his round, she began to feel numb all over. The second was Switch. He was the one that had the nerve to kiss her "lovingly" on the neck. He whispered things one would say to a lover. Maria was so detached from the situation that she probably laughed out of sheer disbelief. Twitch was the last, even more gentle. Caressed her arms and placed kisses along her jawline. It was like some sick, grotesque display of affection.

After the three men had gotten what they wanted, they left her there, used and unconscious, like a piece of trash.

When Maria was finally discovered that morning on the side of the road, a heaping mess, the cop investigating the crime had nothing more to say than, "Boys will be boys."

This was when Maria realized that the civilized world she thought she lived in no longer existed. Sure she'd seen the crimes talked about on television, but it always seemed like other people's problems, things that happened to other people.

But, this world had become a whole 'nother animal, something entirely different from the world her Grandparents lived in twenty, thirty years ago. Humanity was collapsing and there was no such thing as real justice.

The world had suddenly become a place, shrouded in darkness and deprived of hope, for Maria.

When one rides a lonely road in middle America, it can sometime feel as if the road could go on forever and ever. This is how five lively teenagers felt as they bolted down a two-laner with no real destination in mind.

The Crew felt as free as birds as they sped down the road in a stolen, late 80s Honda. Tommy-Boy pushed the pedal to the floor as his fellow crew member, Twitch, hung outside of the car window, yelling for him to speed up. The motor worked as hard as it could, achieving as much speed as an 80s Honda could muster. The sky was a magnificent burnt orange, thin lines of clouds floating idly above. Soon enough Tommy-Boy had to turn on the headlights to see clearly.

Twitch was the youngest and had a twin brother named Switch, who sat in the backseat with two females named Yuko and Kitty. Twitch suffered from a mild case of tourette's which caused his head to twitch a bit whenever he got overly excited. As he hung from the window of this speeding car, his head definitely had its share of sporadic movements.

Switch on the other hand, was bi-polar, the real life version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Both of the twins turned their weaknesses into nicknames. It just seemed a creative way to deal with their problems. All of the members in the crew had nicknames. Of course their real identities couldn't be revealed.

Life, for them, felt like an endless thing, as endless as this road they traveled on. There was no pondering the future, no questioning the unknown. They lived in the now and now was worked for them, now was what mattered.

The cooling night air pressed against Twitch's twitching face, causing his lips to flap a bit. He yelled at the thrill of traveling at such a high speed. He, along with the rest of the crew lived for the thrill. It was all that mattered. They needed this excitement, they craved it. Without it, life would become dull and uninteresting to them; when life becomes that, they search for ways to make it the opposite, sometimes at the expense of others.

"What an idiot! I hope we ride next to a blade and it decapitates your dumb, fucking head off," Yuko said, before lifting a bottle of whisky to her lips and passing it to Kitty. Yuko was a half-Japanese, half-Italian, spitfire who talked and acted much like a boy. She fit right in with rest of the crew. She proudly said, and did anything she wanted, and never bit her tongue. You could always count on Yuko being honest...even when you didn't want her to be.

Kitty took a gulp from the glass bottle, squinting as the burning liquid dripped down her throat. In appearance, Kitty looked like any ol' silly, blond haired, white girl, but she hung tough with the boys and didn't need anyone saving her.

"That'd be so damn rad to see his head rolling down the street! Dude! I wanna see that shit!" she said, her voice sounding a bit thick as she continued to recover from the huge swallow of whiskey she had.

Tommy-Boy took a swig from the bottle, and put it back in its former resting spot, on the dashboard. The Crew really struck a gold-mine when they stole this car. It was owned by some poor sap who had a drinking problem. They always seemed to get lucky like that.

"Go faster Tommy-Boy! FASTER!" Twitch yelled to the driver. Unfortunately, the current speed was the fastest the car would go. Tommy-Boy just laughed and yanked on the other man's pant leg, giving him the signal to get back in the car.

"Damn! I wish we had a Ferrari or something. This piece of shit Honda can hardly break 100," Twitch complained as he situated himself in the car, visibly disappointed by the current, sharp decrease in speed. He stuck his hand in between the car-seat and fetched a bag full of marijuana. "After that shit, I need to get baked for sure!"

They all grunted in approval.

While they waited for Twitch to prepare the joint, Tommy-Boy turned on the radio. Not another song could have complimented this moment as much as Judas Priest's "Breaking The Law."

"Hell yeah! Judas fucking Priest!" Yuko yelled once Tommy-Boy was able to find the station without static. They all head banged, blonde, black and brown hair flying in all directions as the volume increased. They all knew the words. They all sang along.

"Breaking the law, breaking the law!" they shouted as they sped down the road and as Twitch lit the joint and as Tommy-Boy reached for the bottle of whiskey.

This was the life. Music. Booze. And weed. For them, that was all they needed. Whenever they didn't get what they needed, they terrorized others until they got it.

"So much for the golden future, I cant even start. I've had every promise broken, there's anger in my heart," Switch began singing the lyrics out loud before he took a hearty puff from the joint.

"You don't know what its like, you don't have a clue. If you did, you'd find yourselves doing the same thing too!" Yuko continued the lyrics, taking her turn at the joint and passing it to Kitty.

The thumping of the drums and the mere nature of the song made Tommy-Boy press harder on the gas, banging his head and not paying attention to the road. Actually, none of them were paying attention. They all swam in the ecstasy of their freedom and the joy of youth. If they would just pause, for one moment, they'd notice the truck ahead, whose driver hadn't turned his headlights on yet. If they would have paused, for just a moment, they would notice that they were in the completely wrong lane. If they had just paused.

When the truck collided, the Honda didn't stand a chance. None of the teenagers were wearing seat-belts, except for Tommy-Boy, so, the first to fly through the windshield was Twitch. He was thrown several feet forward into a ditch.

Tommy-Boy died on impact.

Yuko flew through the window, breaking her neck before making her way out. After the initial impact, the car flipped over onto its side, throwing Switch against the side door, causing his neck to break also; he died almost instantly. The driver of the truck managed to survive...

Maria was never a fan of hospitals, and having just been in the hospital for a week stay, a couple months ago, she was definitely sure she'd never become a fan. There was never one thing

in particular that bothered her, but rather a conglomeration of things that just irked her. The smell was one of the main things. So sterile and plastic-like. It was always cold in hospitals for some reason, another thing that bothered her. And perhaps the weird art in the lobbies ticked her off as well. They never were the warm colors she wanted, and they always seemed like ideas that never came together that well. Maria wasn't an art connoisseur, but she was quite confident that the artwork she saw in hospitals barely deserved to be called, "works of art."

"Miss Young," the nurse said, breaking Maria from her daydreaming.

Nurses: Another thing she didn't like about hospitals.

"Mrs. Young," Maria corrected her, with a pretend smile on her face as if the mistake didn't matter that much to her.

"I'm terribly sorry about that, MISSES Young," the nurse replied, a faux smile on her face as well. There was a pause, almost as if she wanted to add something else, but decided against it.

"So. How is my husband doing?" she asked, irritated by the other woman.

"He's doing really well right now. Another week, he should be able to go home."

For once today, Maria smiled a real smile, "That's good...I'm really ready to take him home."

"You need a bit more physical therapy, Mr. Young. I'm going to let you go home by the week's end, but you'll have physical therapy every day at one of our branches in the city," Maria hear the doctor say before stepping inside the room.

Her husband, Brian Young, lying in a hospital bed, recovering from an accident he blamed himself for. The situation was heavy, but Maria smiled anyhow. She had to be strong for them both.

"Oh hello there Mrs. Young!" the doctor greeted her, stepping away from her husband to make his way over to her. "Brian here is doing a lot better. He should be out in no time."

Again, she smiled a real smile.

"Thank you doctor." Maria replied, locking eyes with her husband. The doctor always recognized this and promptly left them alone.

"Honey, I was able to walk five feet today!" Brian exclaimed, struggling to sit up in his bed. Maria hurried to help him, but he refused the help. "I can do a lot more on my own now. So please, let me do it." She nodded, understanding him and respecting his wishes.

They chatted about usual things. Maria kept him updated on his friends at work. Told him that they all missed him and were planning to come visit. He complained that they predictably waited until his last week of stay at the hospital to come and visit him. Maria pled with him, asking him to realize that they have jobs and families to attend to. Brian didn't seem convinced. Suddenly he was moody again. It annoyed her.

Both sat there then, in complete silence. Usually Maria was fine with this, reminded her of how they used to be before all this madness was brought about, however, today in particular, was a special day. She was itching to tell him something, something big, something he would probably be extremely excited about...

"So...," she began, twisting a stray piece of string around her finger. "I'm...pregnant."

The glow on his face nearly brought her to tears. He was so happy. He was overjoyed by this seemingly wonderful news. Things almost seemed to happen in slow motion now. Maria didn't expect anything different from her husband, but part of her wanted him to know the full story. She wanted to see his expression then. If she had the heart to, she would tell him, but she didn't have it in her to crush his world any more than it had already been.

But...her world was crushed too. Maria began to get pissed off at his ignorance to her struggles, but she continued to smile, continued to embrace and continued to tell half-truths.

The happy grin on Brian's face would never leave her memory. It was the primary reason why she could never tell him that she didn't think the baby was his...

It was the primary reason why she never told him that the dead teenagers, that he blamed himself for killing in that horrible car crash, were the same teenagers that claimed her body on that night of nights. She knew that if she told him all these truths, he'd take them hard, he might even lash out. He'd most likely behave much like a boy.

As Maria made her way to her car, she silently cried as the officer's words repeated themselves in her head in a sickening sing-song, "Boys, will be boys."