THE YOUNG GIRL WALKED on the pavement of the old forgotten suburb, passing rows of houses on both sides of the road, with peeling wall paint and some barking hounds greeted her, early that morning. She wore the same yellow, corduroy overcoat and knee-high boots...

Her sweaty, pale albino face was without any makeup — it was looking smutty now in appearance, under the approaching daylight.

She was finding for a place to sleep — and to hide away — from those who still 'owned' her.

She even doesn't know if she had wiped her fingerprints off when she used the Black cop's revolver to kill their leader, Bing...

She glanced at something in her hand — it was a driver's license...

She was searching for the house address of Roberta Jensen's — who saved her 'again' last night. She was glad about her impulse for being canny in taking her driver's license, after the confusion of recalling of that name from her past...

It was a miracle too, of how she had finally found her Guardian angel, after many forgotten years, since she last heard of the name — Roberta Jensen — from 'the little brave-hero girl' stories told by her mother, during her bedtime when she was small...

Ever since then, the nomad girl always wanted to be a subjugator like that brave girl.

The girl finally found a house, with the matching address on the mailbox...

She spied around, before moving over towards the side of the old house. She peeked inside through the dusty, grimed window before proceeding to the facade of the house, which stood without a garage. She passed by a big motorcycle that was chained and bolted to a post — she smiled...

'What is this? The household, pet guard-dog?'

She then saw a CPD crest on the door side — but, she kept on searching under the doormat, and behind the withered, potted plants — she stood on her toes, finally found the hidden spare door-key on top of the ledge of the front door. Snow White looked around for one final time — before she turned the key, and let herself inside...

'...seems to be a careless cop, relying on her cop-image scare tactics — but, Oink-oink, I am in...'

It had a small living room that was a messy dump, but she had seen worst hovels — when her Janes took her back to their homes, for their hourly shtup. Snow White explored the place and saw some photo frames around the house of Roberta's parents and her male siblings.

She then picked up a photo frame of Roberta as a dumpy kid with her older sister Laura — it was taken at a county carnival fair.

She saw another dusty-photo-frame of a slightly, older Roberta with two other teenagers. They were all wearing black biker- jackets with the same gang-related emblem sewn on.

All three of the butch-girls, or — 'Sister-boys' — as they were called back in Mississippi...

Surprised, she had recognized one of them — who was also, from her hometown in Mississippi...

The weary, albino girl could not put her head together on how Roberta had known the one named — Roxy Gilman of her past — someone who she would pull the trigger at if she met next...

She next stepped into the untidy, master-bedroom with some posters of handguns on the wall, and the girl placed the two photograph frames that she was holding on the bed — and lit a joint. Snow White open the attached door into the discoloured walled bathroom — and stood in front of the medicine cabinet mirror — gazed at her pale albino skin that was begrimed.

She ran her fingers into her short, spiky, dark hair for a long moment, staring at herself, stoned...

She then removed her yellow overcoat and she stood in her skimpy, two-piece lingerie worn beneath. She then got naked, turned on the hot water shower; and the suffused water felt ambrosia, trickling on her albescent skin, and made it pinkish momentarily...

She stepped out of the shower — staring back again at her wet face, reflected at the mirror of the cabinet, for some extra seconds — noticing her pink skin gradually turned to her albino-self...

'The show is over...'

Her head was wrapped in Roberta's bath towel — she walked in dripping nude, back into the cramped bedroom with the oversized bed. In the built-in wall closet, she saw Roberta's clothes jumbled messy on hangers. She ran her fingers on a black-leather, adult biker jacket before she wore it.

The girl found another worn-out and smaller leather jacket with the faded sewn emblem — similar to the one worn by Roberta, in her younger day's photo with her gang. She placed it on the chair near the bed...

Then her hyped-senses of the weed that she smoked — had something caught her attention...

Squatting in the nude at the bedside, she spotted a partially hidden footlocker. She had found a metal case of Roberta's cache of gun-collection with several sized pistols — she picked and loaded a 9mm, and placed it under the pillow. Snow White then dropped on Roberta's bed, holding and observing the two photo-frames again — she still could not figure the Roxy-Roberta connection...

But she could feel her personal Lilya-Roberta connection...

But it was the destiny of the Universe that led her to believe that Roberta was brought over last night to the face-off, with those armed, Black-pimps who held her as their White sex-slave for a year — until, her Guardian angel-cop that night, then turned into the Angel of Death — who slew those lowlifes, Nigger-whoremongers pitilessly, in the corrupted streets of King Lincoln's Bronzeville.

She was grateful to finally meet her hero in person — who had already saved her life twice — the first time was a long time ago according to her mother...

It occurred then when she was only two years old.

The albino girl felt deep gratitude of subsisting, from the shootout madness in the street last night — and she even felt like a hero herself — for blowing out the brains of the leader of the panderers, at the final moment, before she escaped...

The thirteen years old, Snow White counted her blessings before she fell into a deep peaceful sleep.