Criminal Essense

Prologue

Prologue:

July 14, 2008 2:56 p.m.

New York, New York

No one dared stop the thirteen year old girl who ran frantically about the streets of New York. Bystanders assumed it was nothing but child play, after all, why should they suspect that this girl was being chased by the police? A flash of bright blonde hair bounces around as she moves quickly, shoving through crowds of people, her hazel eyes glinting with panic. That's what had made her run in the first place: panic. She hadn't actually done anything wrong, but she knew they wouldn't believe that. One of those men in blue had been walking towards her when she bolted. She looked suspicious enough, backpack slung over her shoulder, navy blue jacket, blue jeans that had a slight tear at the knee. I mean, who wore that in the middle of summer? It was the hottest New York had ever been, at least was predicted to be.

But they didn't understand, she had to hide the bruises that ran up and down her arms, her legs, her back, her neck. People would get suspicious, they'd get nosy, up close--a little too close for her comfort. On normal circumstances, she would've worn something a little less suffocating, but she never had "normal circumstances". She knew she couldn't just stop and explain, it was too late for that. They wouldn't believe her after what had happened. Piper wasn't a bad person, she wasn't a junkie, and she didn't sell drugs or carry weapons. In her bag she carried pain meds for her.....friend. Mother would be more like it though, after all, she was the one who doctored her up every time Piper wasn't fast enough, or more alert. Her real mother died when she was very young, which had started her father's drinking.

He drank, yes, but he never came home to do it. He still loved his daughter, and would never do anything to hurt her intentional, at least he used to think so. For the past two and a half years he'd been touching her and hitting her, and she would run, hide, scram--whatever it took to get away. She started staying out of the house more and more, and whenever she heard the front door open she would climb out the window down the fire escape. That's how she met Windy Cox. Yes, her name was Windy, not Wendy. It was right before school, she was still in bed, sound asleep. That is until she heard the sound of heavy footsteps outside her bedroom door. A rush of adrenaline came upon her and she woke in a flash, jumping out of bed towards the door.

The knob was already shaking when she rammed all her weight against the door, trying to turn the small lock vertically. But he was pushing back, and she was just able to turn the lock before he entered. "Piper!" he yelled. "Piper! You let me in now, you hear? Piper!" She ignored her father's cries and threw a change of clothes in her backpack, swung it over her shoulder and pulled the window open. She landed on the platform below and made her way down the ladder, going as fast as her body would permit her.

The ladder ended in another platform and she ran across it, knocking over a potted plant with her foot. Crack! It fell over and shattered, and she only had time to look back and see a face--old, tired, pale, and petite--staring back at her. She didn't know why, but she couldn't turn away from the woman's gaze. That's when she tripped over yet another plant and fell, dirt sliding everywhere. "What's the rush?" the woman asked, leaning out of her apartment, her elbows resting on the window sill. Piper turned her head to look at the woman, noticing a purple bandana covering her head.

"Uh, nothing, nothing at all ma'am. A-a-are these your plants?" The woman nodded. "Oh, I am so sorry, I'll clean this up right away."

"Not so fast," she said, looking down at her. "Come here, girl."

Piper gulped, slowly standing up and walking over to the window. "How 'bout you come inside first so we can get acquainted with each other? I hate those damn plants anyway, they always die. Guess we all do at some point." She shook her head at the plants, then looked up suddenly and held out her thin, withering arm. "The names Windy, with an I."