It had taken a few weeks, and a lot of dumpster diving, but her little squatters paradise was starting to look livable.

The first thing she had done was to clear out the window of the broken glass- she didn't feel the need to cut up her arms any more then she had the first night. Fortunately, the wooden frame of the window still was working, although deprived of glass and the cross-section pieces. She had took a trip down to the first floor and struggled for up to an hour to get the wood off one of the windows down there.

She had tore up her fingernails pretty good but it had been worth it in the end. Taking the salvaged wood back up the fire escape she had re-nailed it- without a hammer she had used one of her doc marten boots- to her window frame. That done, she had rigged up a little system with a bike chain she had at the bottom of her hiking bag and a padlock. Wahlah! She had reinvented home security. It wasn't much, but it would hopefully keep people out.

The other broken window in that first room of her attic was covered with what looked to be someone's old, ripped, bed comforter. She wasn't too concerned about someone scaling the side of the building to get in that way and it kept the cold air out well enough.

The front room itself did not have many furnishings. She had snatched up a few plastic egg crates which were now filled with whatever books she had on her when she arrived in RhyDin and some clothes and set up along the left wall under the other broken window. Straight across from her entrance window was the tiniest, and dirtiest, fireplace. For now, a pile of blankets (or what were at one time blankets) was set up before that along the right wall.

In that far left corner was the door leading off into the makeshift bathroom- she had yet to do anything with that but would soon have to deal with it. For now, there was a somewhat rusty bucket resting under the outdoor style waterspout that was inside the bathroom. She didn't know where the water came from or why it was still running- didn't want to ask either. It was cold but seemed clean enough, that was all that mattered.

In the right wall was the door that led to the third room of the little attic. This room was very bright. It faced the street with two fully intact, yet very warped, windows. Another was set in the right wall. The majority of the light came from a slight light that, though covered in bird droppings, warmed up the whole room.

The room was devoid of any signs of life at the moment. Eileen was leaving it alone until she figured out just what she wanted to use it for. In the back left corner was an antique of sorts- an old black stove thingy whose name escaped her. Franklin, maybe? She remembered studying Benjamin Franklin in her American Lit class last semester, but she had slept through that class soooo she wasn't really sure if he had invented the ugly black stove or not. In the grand scheme that was her life, it didn't really matter.

The only other thing of note in the room was the trapdoor in the close left corner. It led to the downstairs. She had placed a few bricks over it for now, really needing to get another chain and padlock to keep away unexpected visitors.

It was yet to be determined if Eileen was aiding in destroying the quiet that Sid so dearly missed. If caught in one of her better moods the answer would definitely have to be yes. When in such a mood Eileen Bennet liked to stomp around her small apartment in her combat boots, singing punk rock songs-or sometimes Billy Joel if she was missing her parents-at the top of her lungs.

Lost souls that fell into RhyDin had two choices: take off running or never get up. Eileen had to stumble to her knees before she forced herself up to keep on moving, keep on living. She got a little job at some scummy lawyer's office that dealt with cases regarding land use in RhyDin. It was a joy since there were few-to-none laws regarding land use in RhyDin. Fortunately, all she had to do was file papers and make copies. She had to battle it out with the copy machine, of course, that refused to work half the time because the spell it was under was malfunctioning. But, it gave her some money and she had been able to buy some furniture and even eat once or twice a day.

She was even looking at a second job, at a local record store! That was right up her alley, without a doubt. The prospect of some more money was what she was currently celebrating, dancing around her apartment (moving and grooving was made more difficult by the new furniture) and singing: Where I come from isn't all that great My automobile is a piece of crap My fashion sense is a little whack And my friends are just as screwy as me

I didn't go to boarding schools Preppy girls never looked at me Why should they I ain't nobody Got nothing in my pocket

Beverly Hills - That's where I want to be! Gimme Gimme Living in Beverly Hills... Beverly Hills - Rolling like a celebrity! Gimme Gimme Living in Beverly Hills...

Okay, so she didn't have an automobile but she had seen an old beat up vespa for sale and was just dying for it! Until then she'd settle for spending money on hair dye. Manic Panic was not to be found in RhyDin but she had picked up some type of natural goo that would do the job and wala- brown hair streaked with brilliant red. She had even given herself a bit of a haircut and it hadn't come out totally uneven. Life was good.

The second large room that faced the street was her favorite, her pet project. That black stove in the corner actually worked and she could use the top to cook with a few old pots she found. Next to it had been a sink but she had taken it off the wall and thrown it out. She had actually debated throwing it out the window because it was heavy and dragging it downstairs was not something she envied herself for doing; in the end she had relented, she didn't need to draw undue attention to herself.

In place of the sink she had an old bathtub. How she had come by that was rather by luck. She had explored the other two levels of the house for anything useful and had found the tub sitting there, black with dirt and a few chinks in it but usable after she scrubbed it down for a few hours. Getting it to the next floor had been a task she was not fit for and she had finally caved in and paid some two-bit wizard to use a spell to get it upstairs. Of course, with the way magic was in the WestEnd it had ended up outside on the street the first two tries, but the third time it worked!

Again, she had hooked the plumbing up herself. Her father and old boyfriends had always insisted that she not be a useless female who couldn't do a single fix-it thing around the house. She was thanking them every day she had been in RhyDin. It was leaky, and she had busted her thumb up good in working on it but who was she to complain? She had even picked up this handy spell-box contraption that heated the water as it came out the faucet into the tub. People really thought of everything in RhyDin!

She had her little cooking and bathing area curtained off from the other half of the room; it served as her workshop. Another egg crate wall unit held a few plastic containers of ink. She had paid a pretty silver to get the ink from the Stars End sector of town; she was going to have to figure out a way to make it or buy it cheaper the next time. Piled on top of the egg crates were wooden frames, a pile she added to now from her paper bag. She had commissioned a wood worker in town to make them in varying sizes for her. Aside from them, there was a box of squeegees and a few boards that would hold her work down.

Most treasured, and at the bottom of the paper bag, was a little bundle of silk and a sealed box of film. Eileen Bennet had every intention of recreating the t-shirt business in RhyDin.