Angela stumbled/ ran through the dark alley, her tears mingling with the pouring rain. She used her arm to wipe away wayward tears as she blindly turned into a separate alley, running into dumpsters as she looked behind her, making sure she was not being followed. She quickly hid behind a separate dumpster, crouching down, blending into the shadows. A few moments later, she heard the patter of footsteps. "Angela!" she heard Ocean scream.
"Angela!" she heard the voice of Tom.
"Damnit!" one of them swore.
"She couldn't have gotten far in this storm," she heard Ocean say. "She's not even wearing shoes."
"Hey!" she heard a third voice join them. "You need to get back to the building! The elders would like an audience." She heard Tom release an angry growl. She jumped at the sound of trash cans being kicked over. "It's not like she's going to go back to her foster's," Ocean said. "She's probably won't show up to school."
"We'll start checking the tent cities tomorrow," the third voice said.
"Don't forget the park," Ocean said. "She loved going there. Made a few friends with the homeless people."
"No," Tom said firmly. "Send people out now. Tonight. I want her found by the morning." The voices slowly faded away, letting Angela know that her 'friends' were no longer in the alley. She released the breath she had been holding, slumping against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her middle, shivering and sobbing. She slowly looked at her hands through the tears to see them covered in blood…her blood. She looked down at her legs, to where the pain was emanating from. She gasped. There was so much blood! She was going to die. A new wave of panic arose in her as her sobs became louder and harder. She wasn't worried about being heard as the thunder and lightning were abnormally loud. She beat her fists against the soaking pavement. She was in so much pain. She felt violated and disgusted. She curled up into the smallest ball possible, laying down on the wet concrete as the rain continued to beat her body from above. She clutched her abdomen as she screamed into the ground in pain and fear. No one would notice or care about a girl lying on the ground behind a dumpster. This was Gotham after all. But she couldn't help but think, when exactly did her life get so fucked up? Where exactly did it all go wrong?
(Approx. one month ago)
Sixteen-year-old Angela ran out the house and down the steps of her new foster home, shouldering her worn out bookbag. Another perfectly good breakfast ruined by a screaming match between the hungover married couple known as her foster parents. She tuned out the world around her as she slowly made her way to school, kicking a pebble here and there. Her sneakers had holes in them; her jeans had holes; her shirt hung on her small frame as it was a hand-me-down left by the previous kid who'd been there. But as long as the bills were paid, the house was in decent shape, and the fosters weren't beating her, her caseworker said there was nothing she could do about the drunken brawls her foster parents got into with each other every night. Afterall, her caseworker explained, she had about 40 other misplaced kids she had to worry about. Angela tried not to complain, though. Her last home had been a total nightmare. She looked both ways before crossing the street as a bus with screaming children drove by. She used to take the bus, but the airhead holier-than-thou children, the preppy middle-class students, and groping pubescent boys just didn't appeal to her. Angela was a loner by choice. She had maybe one friend her entire life. She was seven last time she saw her, so…yeah. Angela ignored the catcalls from construction workers on a scaffold as her high school came into view. Life wasn't too bad. Sure, her foster parents pretended like she didn't exist and she had no friends and the odds of her becoming a streetwalker were high; but at least she had access to food that wasn't moldy, and the water had both hot and cold settings that actually worked. So, living with functioning alcoholics wasn't too bad. Angela stared at the teeming crowds of students standing outside the high school from across the street. Who was she kidding? She hated her life, and she hated high school. Her life sucked. And some days, like today, she wished was dead. Angela released a heavy sigh as she crossed the street to the building she considered her doom.