It was very strange for her to sit in a smooth porcelain white tub filled with hot water that tingled her skin and heated her heart. It was located inside a large bathroom that she assumed could be fit for anyone else, but her. The stream from the bath fogged up the large vanity mirror that spread replicated everything. Below it was a long marble counter that held only one sink bowl that was decorated with a swan shaped faucet. The shower was on the other side of the room, sitting by the pink wallpaper that stretched to the door. In front of it was draped with a light pink and white flowered curtain.

     She closed her eyes and allowed her body to sink deeper into the water. Being in this comforting situation, brought her back to the lonely days where she would sit in a cast iron bucket that was once used to wash clothes in days of old and how every time she dumped the cold water onto her skin, it would snatch her breath away, chilling her bones and tightening her skin. Nothing would help ease the pain of bathing in cold water every couple of days whenever it was given to her. But after a while, those couple of days turned into weeks. Weeks lead into months. And months withered into years. And so she rotted away. Stained by the blackness of the monster she so desperately feared.

     Now she was here. Being bathed by two maids who gasped each and every time they rubbed the towel across her arms. Removing the dirt and revealing the smooth dark skin underneath that had no flaws. No marks. No bruises. Just as beautiful and silky as the day she was born. Before their eyes, she was transforming.

     With each splash against her face, however, it revealed the small thin cracks in her cheeks that veined out, going across her forehead. Her long brown curly hair flowed down her back and she couldn’t remember when the last time it was since she washed her hair in that wonderful bubblegum shampoo and winter mint conditioner. Oh how she wished she could stay in this comforting moment and being surrounded by nothing but warmth. If the Jazz Man could see her now, he would smile loudly and tell her to be grateful. Grateful she was, but how long could this moment really last?

     It was then when the two maids did the final wash of her hair that Martiez noticed the mark on the back of her neck. It was a rather large circle that held other small circles within it. To the Humans, it was nothing more than just a birthmark that told them the person they were with did not bleed like them. Did not shed tears as they did. To other Glass-Eyes, it told them where they stood and how powerful they were.

     With her eyes, Martiez notified her sister. Ann took several steps back and examined the mark, swallowing a hard knot that formed in her throat. What sat innocently in the tub, playing with the bubbles was not a normal homeless that the Master had found on the street. She was dangerous.