[For Pandora's Box]

It was a rather notorious bend in the road, just outside of the gated community. The road curved ominously along the walls that blocked the 'elevated' up and away from their nearest neighbors. For driver's there were signs that warned about the curving of road. There were also no less than 3 'safe' cross walks along straight stretches where one could hit a button to cross the street to head down into the lower suburbs.

During the day, it was fine. But this was after dark, and the two girls stood at one of the curves closer to the gate that lead down. The cross walk was just too far of a walk away.

"We can cross the street here, it'll be fine!" the young Belcourt insisted with far more gusto than she likely should have. She took a single step out into the street to lean out and look, then stepped back in as a car went by, honking it's horn at her loudly.

12 years old, just barely old enough that the Belcourts and the Sinclairs would allow their daughters to go out trick-or-treating together without their parents. Cerissé's hair was pinned up to carefully balance the little witch's hat that her mother had decadently decorated for her with spider's web lace and pumpkins and a beautiful purple chiffon ribbon to go with her just-as-meticulous dress and the pin-striped stockings she wore. In one hand she held a broom, tucked carefully into her side, and in the other a plastic pumpkin candy pail.

At her side stood another girl, her hair tucked under a dark wig with a pair of meticulously made black cat ears affixed to the top with whiskers and a nose painted on her face in a matching dark dress. She also had a matching pumpkin pail.

"I dunno Ceri, this bend doesn't look safe." her friend didn't look so excited about it, leaning away from the road, despite the lack of cars at that given moment. Not even far from them was a busted in section of wall with caution tape decorating it from someone taking the turn badly. Frankly, there shouldn't have been a sidewalk there for pedestrians.

Cerissé looked to her friend.

"It'll be fine, Lottie. If we run fast, it'll be fine." she was half inched out into the street already. Cerissé didn't wait for another protest from her cat-companion before she bolted out and across the street. Lottie delayed more than 6 steps behind....

"Ceri, wai-"

Just far enough to not make it before the car did.

The sound of screeching tires and the smear of blood left on that road would be left in her mind for a long time. While the Sinclairs would never publicly hold it against her, it would linger. Perhaps she would blame herself.

It was about 3 years later that finally the pedestrian sidewalk would be replaced with a skywalk. Sometimes, she'd still see Charlotte Sinclair up there, staring out into the city from her wheelchair, her gaze as empty as her mind supposedly was now.