Shiva (Arrow - Oliver Queen)

4 / a man in a green hood

Hong Kong, 2006

Sandra could always gauge the quality of their house by the window panes. Whenever it rained, water would dribble down the inside of the frame - and when the sky thundered loud enough, the glass would rattle and shake. Every home in this part of the city was built for quantity rather than quality, built to be marketed to poor families with no other options. Like Sandra's. 

This apartment proved to be no different, and Hong Kong only confirmed it as the sky became dark and heavy with rain, illuminated by distant flashes of lightning. 

Sandra enjoyed people-watching. In this newest apartment, sitting a few stories above the street, she could sit by the window and observe without disturbing anyone. The citizens below looked like tiny beetles, scurrying around under their black umbrellas, bustling around each other, seeking relief from the rain. Sandra could pass hours trying to guess their stories - where they worked, who was waiting for them at home, how many days it had been since their last vacation. 

(As she grew older, darker, more and more ruthless, the people-watching  became something else. She cased people, rather than admired. Dissected their lives, rather than guessing. She would stop seeing people with jobs and families and aspirations. Instead, she saw potential enemies - or worse, potential targets).

(But at seventeen, she people-watched).

A quiet knock pulled Sandra's attention away from the rain-slicked window. A skinny, wiry-haired girl stood in the door frame. Her face was soft and round and her eyes glittered with tears from behind a protective curtain of black hair.

Sandra hid a frown from her sister. "You should be asleep, Carolyn."

"I couldn't sleep," Carolyn said, her voice a meager sound against the drumming of the rain.

Sandra shook her head, moving from her spot on the windowsill. Goosebumps raced up her legs as she walked across the wooden floor. She waved Carolyn towards her as she sat down on her bed. The wooden frame creaked under their shared weight. Sandra suspected it would collapse in her sleep one day. 

"Nightmares?" Sandra assumed. 

Carolyn shook her head. "I miss Father,"  she said, and Sandra bit back a sigh. 

"Oh, Kǎ luó lín," she murmured, running her hand up and down Carolyn's back. "You know he's busy. His work is... demanding."

'Demanding' was no word to describe what their father did for a living, but it was the softest word Sandra could use with her sister. For as long as Sandra had been alive, Ando Wu-San had been hired muscle for the Chinese Triad. Sandra despised the work, even knowing it was the only thing that kept their family's heads above water. Sandra did not like thinking about what he did when he was away. 

"I know," Carolyn said, eyes trained on her lap, where she laced and re-laced her fingers together. "But he missed my recital today. And Mother wasn't feeling good, so she didn't come, either..."

"I was there," Sandra reminded her. "You danced beautifully, meímei."

"But he didn't see it. He never does."

Sandra drooped. Fifteen-years-old seemed so much younger on her sister - at least through Sandra's eyes. 

"He can't help it," she said, hiding her disdain for defending a man who could be shooting someone in the head at that same moment. She pulled her sister close. "But I always will be."