Cirice Forge doesn't know who she is. Other than a piece of paper with her name on it, she knows nothing about her time before she was dispersed into the foster system. Now, she bartends at a popular gentleman's club with plenty of ogling and still...
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Cirice was running, her feet pounding against the concrete of the dank sidewalk. It was dark and she could not remember why she was in such a frenzy. Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced forward, the city still and silent around her. Suddenly, she tripped, falling forward and into something softer than the concrete.
Suprised, she looked around and found a forest, it's foliage dark and green. In front of her, a large mirror stood. Encased in gold, faces in abject terror glared back at her from the frame. Cirice stood and took in her reflection, wondering why she was wearing the dark, dated dress. She glanced down to find herself wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans.
Looking back up she met her eyes again, yet something was off about them. It was as if she was looking, not at her own reflection, but through a window. The woman in the mirror reached out, pressing her hand against the glass of the mirror. Cirice did the same, watching her.
Realization swept through her as the woman offered a small smile.
"Mom?"
Cirice awoke to the sound of a horn honking from the busy street below her. Sighing, she rubbed her face and forced herself to sit up. Afternoon sun streamed in through the uncovered pane of the window. The events from the night before unfloded in her minds eye and she cursed herself for being so impulsive around those boys.
"Latham is going to kill me," she whispered, also recalling how she had wanted to quit. Even after sleeping on it, she was fixed in her decision. She needed to get away from there, away from here, away from everything.
Cirice crept to the door and tentatively pulled it open. The apartment was quiet--Hannah was at school and Marcus was off doing God knows what. Cirice took the chance at the empty apartment and stole into the bathroom she and Hannah shared. After brushing her teeth, she popped into the shower. The water was cold of course, the hot water heater in the apartment had been broken for months, and Marcus was the last person to fix something that wouldn't pay him.
Cirice shivered against the chilling water, goosepimples assaulting her pale skin. She reminded herself to pick up some more bar soap after finishing off the sliver of what was left. The shampoo and conditioner were thankfully salon quality. Hannah may have been the daughter of a Meth dealer, but she was a typical fifteen-year-old. Anything she wanted, daddy got her.
Cirice knew if she used a certain amount each time she showered, Hannah would never pick up on the fact that she wasn't the only one using Matrix Biolage. However, it was for color-treated hair. While Hannah sported neon pink locks, Cirice retained her natural jet black color.
After the shower, Cirice dressed in a normal white t-shirt, jeans, and her boots. She would spend the next few hours at the public library. Where it was not only quiet but also warm. After locking up the apartment, she descended the stairs. Suprise overtook her when she reached the third floor as she took in the paramedics. A stretcher stood inside Miss Yates apartment, a sheet over what could only be her plump body. A dark hand fell just below the sheet, making Cirice's stomach turn. She didn't bother to ask the paramedic what she already knew.
