Long Liv, Carter!

1

The subway is deserted that night when she hops in. It's almost two in the morning. She just sits as soon as she steps on it. Her bag lays down beside her, on the empty seat right next to the door. Today is probably the most hectic day since the last three years. She almost didn't sit at all at Winter's, the boutique where she works.

Today is beyond exhausting for Liv Morales, and, and she lost her voice earlier today. A cup of hot tea with mint and honey Jackie gave her didn't help at all. It's April, and Winter's was packed already. It's the time of the year when a lot of teenagers are looking for prom dresses because May and June are approaching. In New York, every girl wants to look as pretty as they can be in their prom night, and in this city, Winter's is parents' first choice if they want their daughters to look perfect. She still remembers her first day of working at Winter's. She almost cried because she was shocked by the sudden change in her life. It wasn't actually the job, which suddenly made her the busiest girl in the city that made her almost cry, but the reason behind it.

Back in Orlando, she lived happily with her family, she had cool parents her friends like, she had a brother whose mind just synced with her, she had two best friends to share her stories with, she had a crush who she knew she might have a chance with, and she got everything she wanted. Her life was safe, and Orlando was just perfect for her. She never wanted to be anywhere else. Orlando was home. Until the night she lost them all changed everything.

She never wants to talk about the life before she was an orphan. She doesn't want to remember about any of it. She decided that the new phase of her life began at the day she turned seventeen, at that point where Jackie Winter was sitting next to her in their flight to New York. Jackie was fine with that, because she also had her own past. "Past hurts," they agreed. That was a deal she made with her on the plane, and they actually linked their pinky fingers. And the next thing she knew, Orlando was left behind. Orlando wasn't home anymore. It was just a history she doesn't want to remember.

Jackie bought her an apartment in Manhattan. She gave her a lot of pretty clothes. A wardrobe full of them. Every birthday, every Thanksgiving, every Christmas, every New Year, Jackie always gives her new stuffs. She gave her everything she needs, basically. And when people look at her, they'll be jealous. Not so many people can wear a Versace dress, Burberry coat, Jimmy Choo shoes, Chanel bag, and a bracelet from Tiffany & Co. at the same time.

Liv insisted Jackie to hire her because it was the best way to do something for her. Jackie had warned her about the job and talked to her about going to college, but going to college means she had to fit in. She wasn't ready, she never would be, and again, Jackie would spend more money on her education. She had given her a lot. Liv never went to college, and she didn't care because she would do anything to help Jackie in return. Besides, she had no one to make proud of. Jackie told Liv she could quit anytime, but she never did. What would she do in her life without Jackie?

Jackie was her mother's best friend. She is a transwoman who owns this fancy boutique in Tribeca. For Liv she is the nicest person in the world. Whenever she is around, Liv is just happy. Jackie has this magic that turns everyone's mood positive. No one hates her, and Liv loves her so much that if she punched a five-year-old she would be like 'what was the kid doing to make her upset?'

Except, Jackie doesn't punch anyone.

Now that the subway stops, no one gets in. A man in dark green hoodie stands up, then walks past her towards the door.

Being half asleep and half dead, she isn't aware that her bag next to her has also gone through the door with him.

Yes, her Chanel bag.

Only when the door is almost closed did she realize that the guy stole her bag. Wait, what? She is quick enough to stand up and steps out of the door, even though the Subway door almost squeezes her. She is too tired to run faster than the thief, she almost cries. All she can do best is trying to shout, even though she knew her sore throat won't do any good. It is almost impossible to ever get to him.

"Please... help."

Nobody hears her ghostly voice. Poor attempt, Liv.

There are only few people in the hallway, most of them are wearing earphones. They only stare at her and do nothing as she passes by. The other things are blurred, not because she runs fast, but because she eventually starts crying. Instead of trying harder, she stops, putting her hands on her knees. She closed her eyes and she stayed at the same position for minutes. Her legs are numb, she stood for hours in high heels in Winter's this afternoon. Now all she wants to do is go home and get some sleep. This is not her stop, but her money and her MetroCard are on the bag, so is her phone, so she walks to the stairs.

She's still in Tribeca. She could go home to her apartment in Chelsea on foot, if she wasn't tired and there were less than thirty blocks between where she stands and where she lives. Not that she would walk all the way from Tribeca to Chelsea even when she wasn't tired, though. And it's past midnight, New York streets can be dangerous.

She'd been longing for the frozen pizza she has in her fridge since she stepped out of the boutique. It makes her want to cry even more. A walk back to Winter's would be less far, and she could stay at Jackie's in the penthouse above the boutique for tonight, so that's what she's going to do, but first, she needs a place to sit and cry. She takes off her heels once she's out onto the street, ready to start a midnight walk in the biggest city in the world before she saw two people fighting on the street.

Cars are honking at them and people are telling them to stop from the sidewalk. She should've sat on the bench she found next to a barbershop across the small crowd, but she stands right there as she sees a messy haired guy in black t-shirt lying on on his back. Another guy is on top of him, beating his face several times before an NYPD car pulls up. Her feet are begging her to sit, but she can't just stop looking at them.

Because that guy in black t-shirt is holding her Chanel bag.