I was walking out of my ballet studio, one hand in each of my parents'. I just had my winter recital for my ballet class in the winter of '99. The three of us were getting into our car, heading out to dinner as celebration for my last performance of that year. My dad in the drivers seat, my mom in the passenger, and me in the back, unbuckled. We were only a few minutes away from the restaurant when we were stopped at a traffic light. My dad smiling over at my mom, taking her hand. My mom smiled back at him, in her ever-so-loving way that she always did. Her blue eyes matched perfectly with her brunette hair. My father's green eyes peered over to me, as the light turned green. He stepped on the gas peddle to go, when all of a sudden, I heard a honk. I watched as my fathers eyes filled with fear, slamming his foot down on the brake. Only for it to not be soon enough...
The was the last I remembered of the accident. The next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital to nurses and doctors surrounding my bed, checking IVs and paperwork. One of the nurses saw my eyes open and came rushing over. She told me to not move and to try not to speak, since I had a tube down my throat. The doctor came over to me and pulled up one of the chairs to my bed. As he moved across my view, I notice a few adults in the back of the room that we're wearing some type of badges. I didn't know what they were at the time, but I knew it wasn't good. My gut was telling me something terrible happened, but God did I not know just how awful it was.
The doctor sat down and took one of my hands, his were cool and big compared to mine. He looks me in the eyes and says the only words a ten-year-old never wants to hear.
"I'm so sorry for your loss."
I lost my parents twenty years ago in that car accident. I know now that those people in the back of that hospital room were from social services, the best in the city of Gotham. I hopped from foster home to foster home, since the orphanage was no longer running. Once I turned 16, I left the last family I was fostered with without a care. I knew I could handle myself, even if it meant doing things I thought I'd never do.
The year is now 2014, I am trying to make my way through the toughest city in the country but things tend to be hard for a 25-year-old woman who has nothing to her name but an old necklace given to her by her mother. To help with that, I got a job as a stripper down at one of the worst clubs in Gotham city, but to be fair, there aren't that many great ones. I am now living on my own, in a run-down apartment, with noisy neighbors. But, life goes on. At least, for now anyway.
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My Story of Vengeance
FanfictionWren, a 25-year-old female, goes about her normal days in the city of Gotham like nothing has changed. Up until she crosses paths with someone who some see as a threat , and others see as hope. She sees him, however, as a complication.
