The streets were a cold place to be at night, cold and lonely. The rushed sounds of padded footsteps were heard running down the main strip. Long black hair billowed out into the wind as the petite figure raced down in the dark. The Circuit was unknown to her, she had no idea of the dangers that lay in the dark, no idea of the temptations on each corner. The girl only knew she had to run, she had to get away, away from it all, away from him. So, she did. She ran.<br/><br/>Morgan had ran out with nothing more than the clothes on her back and a bag she had packed days ago in case she ever found the courage to leave him. The dark colored duffle bag was tugged over one shoulder running across her small chest to rest at one hip. She wore a pair of well used dark jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt that bore the name of a random brand name across the chest in bright red lettering. She was breathing hard and stopped around one corner to rest against the wall. Her hands rested on her knees and she peeked back to see if he was following or not. Satisfied with the outcome she looked back ahead of herself then stood up straight and started to run again.<br/><br/>There had to be someone around to help her. She knew that there was. Even if it was some unsavory person it was someone. Even the most… well even those people of the street could have compassion, right?<br/><br/>Her white sketchers helped speed her across the cold streets as she tugged a hoodie on over her head, uncaring that it covered the straps of the bag that ran across her chest, she didn’t have time to stop. She was tired, hungry, and needed to use the bathroom, but she would not stop. If she was lucky she’d find a store to let her use the facilities. If she was lucky someone would let her sleep in the back. Hide in the back. Hide from him. She had tried it before. She hid. She hid well. But he found her.<br/><br/><br/>Eddie would find her again. He always did. He would drag her back, make her love him, make her stay. She hated him. She despised that man. Love him, no! Love to hate him... yes... love to kill him... yes... she wanted to stab his eyes out, those hateful eyes that bore into her each evening like she was some tramp. Some slut who needed to be shown what she was worth. That’s all she heard from him. She was a slut, a bitch, a whore. Some no good, slant eyed bitch who was only good for fucking, cooking, and cleaning. He wouldn’t let her forget it. She’d never forget it.<br/><br/>The streets were heaven compared to where she was. Compared to the unwelcomed attentions, the touching, forcing, the emotional and verbal abuse that occurred in her life every day. If she were a lesser person, a more selfish person, she’d have killed herself long ago. She’d have taken that straight razor down her wrist, down the soft skin he so loved to abuse. She could do it. She could bleed out. She could just end it. End him. And then end her. It was possible.<br/><br/>She took in a deep breath and stopped again to catch up with herself. Leaning against the next building she thought she saw people up ahead and then an explosion of fire.<br/><br/>Gunshots, fires, hookers, and the smell of burning flesh. Yes, she was definitely in the Circuit.<br/>