Criminal Essense

Chapter 3: An old, sick, friend

3: An old, sick, friend

March 5th, 2013, 5;48 p.m.

New York, New York

It was easy enough slipping past the guards and out onto the busy streets of New York. All Piper had to do was create a diversion, which meant setting off one of the smoke detectors in the ladies bathroom with a match she had found in their hotel room. Then all she had to do was walk out on the street and act as casual as any criminal could.

The reason she absolutely had to escape was not one of criminal motives, but of selfish ones. She just had to see Windy, whether or not she was dead or alive, she didn't know, but she was determined to find out. She knew her way around town--that was for sure, but it had been over four years, and for all Piper knew, her apartment building might not even be there anymore.

Taking a left, she almost ran into a homeless man, and as she examined him further, she vaguely remembered him as the man who had been holding the "HUNGRY HUNGRY HOBO" sign when she had been arrested. She smiled at him before apologizing, and his gaze rested on her face, trying to picture where he had seen her before, but Piper kept walking; she didn't have any time to waste, Reynolds would be up in an hour or two.

Putting her hands in her pockets, she looked around nervously, recognizing each and everyone of the buildings, and something Tyler had asked her flashed into her brain."Did you want to?"

She pushed it aside. Of course she didn't. Wanting to kill someone would mean being a criminal, and despite how much she liked Tyler, she knew that was exactly what he was. People are made up of flesh and bone, but their essence is something different entirely, and despite all she had done, Piper refused to believe that the essence she was made of was indeed of the criminal variety.

She turned another corner, reaching the very street she had been raised on. The truth was, not all of her memories there were bad. She could somewhat remember a time when she was part a family; her mother's smiling picture holding her hand, her father happy, not a glint of what was yet to come shown in his eyes, instead, it was replaced by a kindness Piper missed so dearly. But she knew it could never be that way again. Forcing herself to remember reality, she held her head high as she searched for the building she was looking for.

As she walked further down the street, she spotted it, tattered and beaten. She half-expected police sirens and cars parked out front, but of course, there were none. Approaching the building, she scanned the mailboxes, looking for Windy's last name, Schneider. When she spotted it, she let out a sigh of relief, smiling now that she knew, the woman who had practically raised her was still alive. Room 462.

She took the stairs two at at a time, and when she got to her floor, she practically ran down the hallway. Knocking on the door, Piper waited patiently, fumbling with her hands out of a nervous habit. She heard the door unlock, and she found herself smiling, not being able to wait much longer. "Windy--"

The woman who answered the door was someone she didn't recognize. This woman looked to be sixty or so, not as young as Windy. She wore all white, had short, white, hair, and wrinkles making her cheeks sag. When she spotted Piper, she looked at her expectantly. "Yes Dear?" she asked with a British accent.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else..."

Piper inspected the room number, 462, and scrunched up her face. "Who, dear?"

"Oh," said Piper, "Um, I'm not sure if you know her, but it's, uh, Windy Cox."

The woman opened the door wider. "I'm her nurse. She's right in here, Dear."

Piper was let inside, and the woman led her to the bedroom before taping the door lightly. "Miss Cox, there's someone here to see you," she called

"Let them in."