It had been two weeks since Fiona had last seen her mother.

Sure, her mother would disappear for a few days. Maybe a week at most. It was all part of the job, the life she chose to lead. It wasn't any of her business what her Mom did in dark, seedy hotel rooms. Quite frankly, Fiona was beyond caring. Besides, her mother's absences gave her an excuse to skip school.

Honestly, she had gone to school at first, but had quickly gotten tired of it. It was no secret to the rest of her classmates that her mother was a whore, and they teased her constantly for it. Eventually, she ran out of patience and simply stopped going. After a just few days at home, she went stir crazy. She soon discovered there was nothing to do in the cramped little apartment, so she would wander about the city. Careful, of course, to avoid the streets her mother 'worked.' It was only when she ran out of money, and then run out of food, did Fiona begin to wonder about her Mother's extended absence.

Luckily, nicking food wasn't all that hard. Backpacks were more trouble than they were worth, and they made you leave them by the counter anyway. Fiona would wander into a gas station and browse, stuffing what she could up her sleeves and in her pockets. Sometimes she would kneel down, pretending to tie her shoe, while shoving merchandise down her sock. Then she'd buy a beef jerky stick for fifty cents, to show that yes, she was actually going to buy something, and then hi-tail it out of there.

Her special five finger discount. Twenty items for the price of one! But slowly she got tired of junk food from the nearby gas stations and drug stores. After the thirteenth day, her gums began to ache, and she spent the last of what she had on bananas.

Fiona had been watching cartoons when the doorbell rang. Quickly switching off the television, she crept quietly to the door and moved the footstool in front of it. Standing on the stool, she peered through the peephole.

Police.

Another buzz and a sudden rap on the door nearly made her fall. Luckily, the height wasn't so great, and she hopped down. There were cops here. Two of them, and Fiona began to feel choking panic rise within her. Taking a deep breath, she forced her fear down. Moving the footstool off to the side again, she undid the deadbolt, but not the chain.

Opening the door a crack, she glanced out at the two officers standing there.

"Fiona Flemming?" The female officer asked, and Fiona's heart leapt into her throat again. She nodded in response and the woman looked relieved, "I'm Officer Callahan and this if my partner, Officer Harvey. Could you open the door? We need to talk to you about your Mom."

There it was. Perhaps she had been right to suspect. Two weeks was longer than her Mom had ever been away... Nodding absently, she closed the door, undid the chain, and let the officers in. It was Friday, but neither of them asked why she wasn't in school. Nor did they comment on the horrible mess that the apartment had slowly become. In fact, neither of them said anything for a while until Officer Harvey spoke up.

"Fiona, your mom, she's been gone for a while hasn't she?"

Fearing the worst, she nodded, twisting her hands together. Suddenly she wished that she hadn't let them in; that she'd stayed quiet and hid. She could have silently crept into one of the back bedrooms and waited until they'd gone away. They couldn't have just come in, could they? Didn't they have to have a warrant or something? But she'd gone and fucked it up, opened the door of her own free will.

Feeling betrayed, Fiona furrowed her brow and frowned at the police before her.

"Fiona," Callahan began, "I'm sorry to inform you, but your Mother has passed away. Gotham Police found her this morning, we have reason to suspect foul play…"

There was a sort of aching, hollow feeling in her chest and she didn't realize she was crying until Officer Harvey handed her a tissue from the kitchen table. So her mother was dead, murdered and thrown in the river like a bag of trash. They were right to suspect Snake. He'd been her mother's pimp for as long as she could remember. He was the reason she was gone for days on end, and likely, he had been the reason for her murder too. She'd come home with bruises before, not getting enough customers, some cash was missing from the count. But most of the time, Snake didn't need a reason.

When Officer Callahan sent her to her room to pack a bag, she walked in a daze down the hallway, and closed the door to her bedroom behind her. Fiona stood quietly for a moment, breathing deeply. Listening to the distant, mumbled talk of the police down the hallway.

They were going to send her away. Put her in a group home or a halfway house with a bunch of other kids and make her go to school. Ugh, school would be even worse than before. They'd assign her a case manager and stick her in special classes. Make her meet with a guidance counselor. Then they'd kick her out of the system once she turned eighteen.

That's when it occurred to her; she'd be on the street then anyway, what difference did it make if she was five years early?

Locking the door with a quiet click, she began to tear her room apart. Shoving on her sneakers first, she pulled her jacket on over her red sweatshirt. Dumping her backpack upside down, her old school papers fluttering noisily to the ground, she trampled them in her rush to escape. Filling the bag with whatever clean clothes were within reach, she grabbed her baseball hat from the bed, her pocket knife from the dresser, and went to the window.

She had one leg out into the open air when there was a knock at the door.

"Fiona? Are you alright? Do you need any help?"

Climbing out onto the fire escape, she'd descended quickly. There was a bang in her room and a shout from the window, but Fiona was already dangling from the bottom rung of the ladder. She jumped the last five feet to the ground, landing heavily, and began to sprint.

It was a long while later, when her breathing was ragged and her throat felt raw, that Fiona finally stopped. She wasn't used to running so fast and so far. Her route had taken her all the way across the Narrows, through alleyways and narrow side streets, darting through traffic, always looking over her shoulder. But she'd did it. She'd gotten away. Really, it was the river that had stopped her. There wasn't any farther to run, unless she crossed the bridge into the city. Letting her legs give out, she crumpled into a little heap on the boardwalk. Scooting backward a foot or two so that the Warehouse behind her was to her back, she tucked her legs up.

Gazing out across the river at Amusement Mile, she felt almost peaceful.

And then, burying her face in her lap, Fiona began to cry.