Cyra Black

A usual working day with a surpise...

Cyra (pronounced Ki-rah) Black stared at herself in the mirror. Her long waist-length hair billowing behind her back because of the cool breeze created by her dingy window above the bookstore. Cyra wasn't abandoned. Oh no, quite the opposite, her abandoned father Frank was always there sleeping off the bottles he drank every night. Frank was paid by the government to take care of the best interests of Cyra, however blew whatever money she needed for things like food so he could gain his typical buzz.

For her real parents however, she couldn't say the same. She had nothing from them and knew nothing about them. She only knew she had the chosen name from them and that she shared the same last name. Cyra tried to go about her daily routine but kept looking at her traits in the mirror every few minutes. She wondered if she got her hazel eyes from her mother or father? She wondered if she was tall because of her father? She wondered most of all if everyone in her family had the same haughty and dangerous look that Cyra possessed?

For some reason, she was thinking more about them because she felt that something was gonna change in her life very soon. She just couldn't deem it as a good or bad thing yet.

She walked out of the bedroom and decided to check if Frank was still breathing. She made her way to the couch he had passed out on and pressed two fingers to his neck to find a thrumming pulse; she did. Good to know he was still alive. Frowning, she turned away and thought is there was ever a chance he would wake up and join her working downstairs. She highly doubted it. She continued down the steps after having made two coffee's.

Smiling, she greeted Benny her neighbour who worked with her because her so-called father couldn't. Cyra had worked in the bookstore since she was ten years of age and when Benny came knocking desperate for a job to support his family, Cyra agreed instantly. It had become a bit hard for her to carry all those heavy boxes of books, especially as a ten year old with weak arms.

She loved Benny because he was the only real sense of a parent she had.

"Good morning Benny," she said enthusiastically.

"It is, isn't it little bird?" he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. He knew that Cyra hated it when he called her little bird.

She gave him a half-hearted glare because she half hated and half loved it when he called her little bird. She would never admit it though, because he would win. Unable to help it, a small smile came upon her face, because he used her nickname. She handed him the coffee and received the usual ritual, "Thanks love."

She noticed him reading the paper and grew curious. Recently terrible things had started to occur across London. Innocent people were being murdered in their homes, in the most violent and gruesome ways. It was horrible! Cyra decided. Police were having a hard time finding any leads and the crime rate just continued to grow. She asked Benny if there was anything new, he replied with, "Of course not little bird, the same stuff is still happening. Oh, actually..." he turned a few pages as if he remembered something crucial, "there was a sighting of a curious man in robes which had a hood. He was spotted a little down the road from here," he finished with a glance at the fear that had settled within Cyra's eyes.

Cyra had a good reason to be scared. She didn't have anyone that could help her in the unit or protect her. Suddenly a thought flashed in the forefront of her mind. What if it was her father? But why would he be in robes? How strange, she concluded. However, she decided that she had to be on her best guard from then on.

They sat there on the book seat, finishing their coffee because it was nearly time in ten minutes to open the shop anyway. Cyra finished hers and decided to check the amount of sales they had made yesterday. She typed in the security code and found the amount to be around four hundred and sixty three dollars. Not too bad, she thought. Good for money that Frank couldn't have.