Prologue
The cool spring rain fell down on to the streets of New York City with such a fury that kept even the bravest soul from wandering out into the streets.
Usually crawling with the characters of the underside of New York the streets were lifeless. No streetwalkers were strutting the sidewalks with their high heels and plaster faces. It would appear that the merciless owners of those jaded marionettes decided that the prospected low profits weren't worth the risk of losing one of their moneymakers to sickness.
Also absent from the night were the small groups of three or four who take advantage of the pour souls who fell into the deep sheer pits of addiction. Heroin, crack, crystal, shrooms, and acid…you name it and it could be found on one of the many street corners. It was a normal sight to see some man or woman of any age, making their way up and down the sidewalk, twitching with wide-eyed and gaunt expressions looking for the source of their next fix. Honestly a pathetic and sad sight to the random observer.
Yes all was at peace in the Big Apple, a rare occurrence in the status quo. Although the only sound that filled the night was rain, even the full blast of a freight train couldn't drown out the shouting going on inside the walls of one house in Queen's Village.
Despite it raining enough to drown a rat, the weather didn't stop one individual from running out the front door and into the streets. With the sound of breaking glass and cursing, the person fled from the house in no particular direction. The source of all the distress lumbered out on too the front porch and swung his head in one direction than the other. Cursing to himself he stumbled back into the house and slammed the front door.
When far away enough to feel safe, the person slowed down to a stop and took a ragged breath, making note of how far they must have ran.
Taking a deep breath Rose released a sigh in relief and took a moment to regain her strength. Leaning against a lamppost, Rose looked up into the sky and closed her eyes. Letting the rainfall patter on her face she could feel the blood from her fresh cut mix with the droplets and slide down her cheek.
Opening her eyes Rose took in the world around her. 'After this I won't be going back.' The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She no longer has anywhere to call home. With no friends or family to turn to Rose has nowhere to go. Anger swept through her like a tidal wave. She screwed up her face in the indignation of it all. 'Why me?' She thought to her self. 'What did I do that caused the universe to turn my life into a never ending hell?'
Bitterly kicking a piece of discarded garbage Rose was quickly drained of her rage-fuelled energy. Touching the jagged cut on her left cheek Rose's anger was quelled. 'At least I'm no longer with him,' with at least that thought of satisfaction Rose slowly strolled down the street.
It wasn't even a block before Rose abruptly stopped. Remembering she was able to grab her backpack in her mad dash to escape, a grim smile pulled her lips in an upward direction. Gleefully thinking to herself Rose put a beat to her step. She may now be a homeless fifteen year old wandering the streets, but at least she now had the chance to extract revenge on the man who was responsible for all of her hardships.
Glad she was alone on the streets so nothing would interrupt her determined stride, she arrived outside the doors of the New York Police Department's headquarters and walked up to the front doors. Lifting the hood of her water logged sweater she entered the building and walked up to the front desk.
Although the rest of New York was hold up inside, even the criminals, NYPD was still in full operations in the chance that some person or group will take advantage of the foul weather.
The receptionist was reading a book, obviously not expecting to see much traffic, and was startled when I stopped in front of her desk. Looking up in surprised to see a teenager dripping wet having come off the streets in the dead of night, she didn't say anything as Rose swung her backpack around and unzipped it. Lifting out some of the contents she handed over a thick folder and planer, which the receptionist hesitantly took.
Closing her bag and returning it to her shoulders she answered the receptionists questioning look. "I know this will sound crazy and really sketchy, but I need you to get that to who ever investigates organized crime." Pointing to the folder Rose continued, ignoring the uncertain looks from the receptionist. "It has information on Stanley Parkers and his dealings with a drug lord named Teddy Manson." That last bit of information snapped the lady out of her stupor.
"How did you acquire this information? Teddy Manson has been on the FBI's top wanted list for the past three years." Rose bit her lip. She was fifteen, if the police knew her relation with Stanley Parkers then she would be interrogated, then handed over to Child Services. And Rose heard enough stories about the foster care system to know that being on the streets was the better option.
Taking this in to account Rose slowly let out her answer. "I'll tell you this, but after I'm leaving. I don't want to be caught in any investigation but nothing would make me happier than seeing Stanley behind bars. For the past two years I lived with him and I know for a fact he is in deep with Teddy Manson." Her voice, which was strong and confident, dropped to a low whisper. "Just please, make sure that information gets to the right person." With that Rose spun on her heel and quickly left the way she came in.
Once again she was out in the cold down pour. But with weight feeling significantly lighter she stepped into the darkness and into a life that she has yet to realized would become stranger and more complicated than one could ever expect.