From the day she was born, Niamh Breamne had had nothing and been nothing. As a child her whole world consisted of her mother, Atarah, and the tiny squalid flat that they lived in. Things were not so bad though – they may not have had much, but they had each other, and it was all that little Niamh needed. She was sure that her mother would always be around to look after her.
To support herself and her young daughter, Atarah worked the cold, unforgiving streets of Sim City as a prostitute. She did not enjoy her work, but had little other choice due to her lack of education and qualifications. Atarah had been kicked out of home by her parents when they discovered that their unwed teenage daughter was pregnant. “You got yourself into this, you deal with it yourself too,” they had spat viciously. Poor Atarah was left with nowhere to go, no money to her name and a baby on the way.
Little Niamh spent her days hidden inside the apartment, not even leaving to attend school. If Sim Social Services (SSS) were to discover her living in such a predicament, she would immediately be removed and placed in foster care. Atarah had often wondered if this was perhaps the best option, but her daughter refused to leave her side.
Whilst her mother worked, Niamh would watch television or play with her few toys. She never worried about her mother because she knew she would always come back safe and sound. However, one night during winter, Atarah was not back at her usual time. Niamh waited another three hours before she began to get worried.
It wasn’t until dawn when signs of life outside of the apartment finally appeared. There was a shuffling outside the front door and the jangling of keys. Niamh’s heart leaped, hoping, praying that it was her mother. She jumped when she noticed a strange woman enter the door.
“Who are you? G-get out, this isn’t your house!” Niamh stuttered.
“I’m Ms. Langby from Sim Social Services. Young lady I am here to take you away from this dump,” the strange, haughty brunette replied.
“Why? This is my house! Go away!” screamed Niamh.
“Young lady don’t take that tone with me. Your mother is dead… murdered”
Niamh screamed again and tears began cascading down her cheeks. She was so frightened. What had happened? Where was her mother? Dead! She couldn’t be!
“What happened to my mother. Tell me,” Niamh begged.
Ms. Langby began ushering her out of the door. Niamh attempted to grab her toys but Ms. Langby swatted her hands away and marched her down the hallway. Niavh never saw the apartment that she had been born and raised in again.
Once they were in the car Ms. Langby finally filled in the details about the death of Atarah. “She was killed by a customer. He refused to pay her for her… services… so she attacked him. He pulled a knife on her and like that she was dead,” Ms. Langby said straightforwardly with no consolation in her voice.
Niamh spent the rest of the car ride in silent, agonising tears.
The years passed and Niamh resisted adoption at all costs. She was happy to spend her days lounging in silence in her room at the orphanage. It was during these years that she plotted exactly how she was to avenge her mother’s death.
Upon her move to Twinbrook, Niamh's story begins.