Prologue

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September 1999.

Some people would give anything for action in their lives. Living in the suburbs, surrounded by the same people they see every day, a drop of spice in the blandness they call their lives was more than anything some people wished for. Then, they could say 'Oh, at least I did this before I die' or 'Hey, you can't say you ever had this happen to you'. It was conversation, something to brag about and something fond to remember.

Jacey Wynter was not one of those people. She didn't care about her bland life. She loved it. The blander the better, in her opinion. But lately, nothing could ever sit still any more. She didn't come home to her husband ignoring the wild, excited screams of her playing three year old daughter. She didn't come home to the sight of her darling one year old baby resting in her crib, nor to the happy smile she always received from all three family members. She didn't come home to the chaotic peace she was accustomed to.

She came home to danger.

She wrapped the cloth over her daughter's face, looking to make sure no one followed her down the lonely streets of Sinwe City. It was the ghetto. Men leaned against walls, beady eyes watching her pass. The smell of marijuana was always present whenever she came here and she covered her daughter's nose, shuffling past them. She kept her head down, her hood over her head, her cap on low. In her arms, her daughter slept, unaware of the dangerous place she was in.

Jacey ducked down a darker street. The smell of ganga and garbage mingled here. She covered her nose, half sprinting to the very end of the street where the rickety, run down house stood.

The yard was a mess. Weeds grew without restraint, an abandoned wheel propped against the dingy white fence. Jacey pushed the gate open and it creaked. Her path was littered with loose stones, juice boxes and a La-Z-Boy recliner. Jacey skirted around them all, went up the steps and knocked on the door. A woman opened it.

She was tiny, barely scraping Jacey's breasts. Her eyes narrowed at Jacey's hooded appearance, shifted down to the baby and back. Around her head was a colourful bandana, tied and hanging down her neck. She wore an old, brown shapeless dress, the sleeves clinging to narrow wrists holding long bony fingers.

"Please," Jacey said.

The woman looked her up and down one last time before stepping back from the door. "Come in then," she said in a gravely voice.

Jacey ducked her head to enter. Her daughter stirred in her hand as soon as the heat of the tiny living room blasted them. The room wasn't messy, only compacted with too many things. Too many newspapers, too many furniture. Jacey sank into the plastic covered couch and watched as the woman disappeared into another room.

"I knew you were coming," she called. "It was about time you did."

"I didn't know where else to go," Jacey answered. "Everyone else was ..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. No need to go into full details. I'm not no old fool. I know what they were thinking." The woman reentered with a box in her hand.

Jacey took the box from her. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Yeah, well, no need to thank me. I had that ready for her the moment you told me about the first attack."

"But..."

"Just as a precaution, dearie. Now hurry on out of here. I don't need anyone else banging my door down."

Jacey nodded. She opened the box, took out the necklace and slid it over her daughter's head.

"I'll make bigger ones as she grows older," the woman said. "Now get."

"I don't know how else to thank you."

"Just doing what I can, dearie. Nothing else to it." A bit impatient now, the woman shooed Jacey to the door. Jacey sent her a grateful smile.

"Thank you so much," she said again.

"You said that already, dearie." The woman stood at the door. She held it open just a moment longer. "Jacey," she called.

"Yes?"

"No matter what," she said. "No matter what, do not let her take off that necklace."

Jacey nodded. She knew the risks, more than anyone else. "I promise. She won't."

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