Sandy Pierce is a prostitute.
She's obsessed with zebra-print patterns.
And she's filthy. A rail-thin frame barely holding up skin and muscle that is begging to fall to the ground out of pure exhaustion. It's no secret that she bleeds profusely, often in public, due to her extreme calcium deficiency which prevents her blood from clotting properly. I had no idea it was even possible, but Sandy's deficiency caused her to become addicted to calcium, which she injects constantly behind her ears, in the small, soft indention that she calls her "Stargate". I am convinced that this calcium is the only thing giving her bones the willpower to stand upright. I wouldn't be surprised if the next time I saw Sandy, she was a BLOB, gliding like a boneless stingray along the patterned hallway, still bumming smokes and gossiping to the deaf guy in 222A, which she often does for reasons unknown other than her own personal therapy, I guess.
Sandy was also born with Cerebral Palsy, which didn't start affecting her motor functions fully until a few years ago. Now, though, it's gotten so bad that during a normal conversation, her arms flail and jerk as if she is constantly demonstrating how to play Street Fighter 2. She makes jokes about it, and for some odd reason is in higher spirits than almost anyone else in this complex, despite her obstacles. Perhaps its because her palsy hasn't affected her business yet. She is still as busy as ever. Her high spirits, and her surprisingly loving but often misguided mothering skills is what makes me really respect (I guess respect is the wrong word, but ACCEPT is a better one maybe) her as a neighbor and, in a weird abstract way, almost a friend.
You see, most of the people in the complex treat me like shit. Not really directly, or intentionally, but just…in that WAY. My right eye is angled downward, and located lower than it should be. Almost resembling the result of getting a small splash of stereotypical "toxic waste" splashed above my eye when I was young, melting the skin and bones housing my eyeball. It's been like that my whole life. And it's never affected my VISION. Though, until after all of this shit happened, I am now questioning whether it did affect HOW I see things. Also, my septum is severely deviated to the right, like it's trying to join my retarded eye in its failed escape from my face. Since I have never really had any kind of conversations or encounters with anyone in my complex, I can only assume that my slight disfigurement is the sole reason for the weird looks and the cruel comments.
Sandy, on the other hand, is my savior. Whether it is out of pity, personal redemption, because I sometimes watch her daughter, or genuine CARE, she protects me. Not in a physical way, but part of the reason, I'm convinced, that the rest of the cretins inhabiting our hallways haven't ever gone farther than the occasional hurtful remarks, is because she has told each and every one of them that I am OK, and that if they hurt ME, she will stop handing out free hand jobs every few days. And seeing as how the palm of an anorexic, palsy-inflicted, calcium-addicted hooker is probably the best a lot of these guys can get, I imagine that not fucking with ME is a small sacrifice. So, in a way, I am also slightly in debt to her, I guess, which is why I continue to do favors for her when she needs me, even if I realistically don't have time, like right NOW….