1 comments/ 7013 views/ 3 favorites Bad Blood Ch. 01 By: LazarusMethusillah "God damn it," Sharlene snapped, grabbing my cell from my hand before I could answer. "I hope you're having a good evening because your incessant calls have lost my best friend her date." Glaring at her, I snatched it back as the male on the other end called her a bitch. "Hi. Yeah. Call my best friend a bitch again and I'll remove your balls with my abnormally long nails," I sighed, tired of the constant fights between everyone in the area. "Hey. Sorry. It's Detective Andrews. You're needed at a crime scene down by the harbour," his deep voice was calmer, apologetic. "Which one?" I held a hand over Shar's mouth to keep her quiet. "The one near Café Casablanca," he shouted -- a crash in the background almost obscuring his overly-appealing voice. "Okay. I'm about ten minutes away. Regular kit or just my camera tonight?" I winced, my fingers being gnawed on. "Just the camera. See you soon," he hung up. "I will kill him," Sharlene growled. "Your date was one edible piece of man-meat." "Too bad I won't remember him after midnight Sunday," I grinned, walking to my car. "Do you want to come with or should I drop you off at home first?" "I'll come, but I'm staying in the car," she grouched. "Fine. Bob Marley or Sublime?" "40 ounces to freedom, babe," she jumped in and lounged in the seat. Following her example, I climbed into my little four-seater and turned it on; cranking the heat and revving the engine before pealing out of the restaurant's parking lot. Hanging a left onto Government St., I took another left halfway through her favourite song onto Bay St. The road was blocked not far after the intersection; uniform cars with lights flashing parked haphazardly across the street. Cutting my engine, I stepped out and pulled my camera from the back seat; grabbing a few extra film canisters just in case. "I'm trusting you with my keys. Steal my car and I will kill you," I grinned poking my head back in as Sharlene flipped it to 'ACC' mode. "Understood, doll," she smiled, 'Beautiful' by Eminem drifting from the speakers. Shutting the door, I was met halfway by a 6'3", pure muscle, brunette, lightly tanned, plain-clothes cop. He paused with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "Keep dreaming," I jeered, adjusting the back of my short skirt a little. "Hard not to," he chuckled. "Can you remember me this week?" "By voice from that call, I can Detective Andrews," I shook my head. "As far as facially, I've no recollection of you." "Well damn," his smile slipped a little. "How long has it been?" "You know exactly how long it's been," I popped the protector from my camera's lens. "Three years, four months, six days, eighteen hours, twelve minutes and counting." "Down to the minute. It's still that fresh?" he held an arm out, indicating for me to walk with him. Tucking my extra film into the top of my nude thigh-highs, I did. "You have a serial killer try to do you in and have it not be," I retorted. "I'm sorry, Ms. Sharp. I know how much it ticks you off," he paused just out of hearing range of the uniforms and crime scene techs. "I was told to warn you before you stepped in there. The vic is a bloody mess. My superiors ordered me to tell you that you can leave if it strikes too much of a nerve." "Understood. Shall we?" I had to crane my neck to look at him; my six-inch pumps only halving the discrepancy our heights. "Ladies first," he nodded. Drifting between the cars, the techs all nodded to me; all aware that I couldn't recognize them, but close friends anyway. Nodding back, I followed the jumper bunnies (as I affectionately called them) to the closed scene. If I hadn't been used to gore, I would have unloaded my chicken chow mien all over the pavement. Gagging, I brought my camera up and snapped preliminary shots of everything. Running out of film, I switched rolls and tucked the full one into my bra. "Melaney? Could you get close-ups of this please?" a female tech asked quietly, indicating a blood-soaked section of pavement near the body. Bringing my camera to eye-level, I zoomed in on the area indicated and snapped off half a dozen shots from different angles; capturing the essence of the mess. "Thanks, hun. If you would follow me please," she waved me over to the body. "There's something burned into...well..." Clenching my jaw, bile rose in my throat as I saw the brand on her massacred inner thigh. Snapping a few shots, I moved to cover the rest of the body from every angle imaginable. Changing the roll again, I got a few more before straightening and blanching at the wall opposite. "Has anyone noticed that?" I pointed at the blood smeared along the glass and concrete. "What?" Detective Andrews whirred around and stumbled a little. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit." "Oh god, not another one," the tech murmured. In big, bloody letters the scene was marked by my worst nightmare. To top it all off, the message was addressed to me and ended with a demented smiley face. "Jimmy get her out of here now!" Andrews yelled, pointing at me. His partner was the first over; tucking me under his arm and pulling me away. "Mel. Mel, come with me. He knows you're alive," James knocked my knees out when I didn't respond. The techs and uniforms scattered as we broke the line; my camera bouncing against my chest. "Mel? Jimmy what's wrong?" Sharlene appeared in front of us. "Later, Shar. Right now, we need to get as far away from here as fast as we can," he grunted a little. "Where are her keys?" "In the ignition. You drive. That thing will hit 240 faster than any of your cars," she ran ahead and crawled in the back. James set me in the seat and slammed the door in his haste. "Mel? What's wrong? Why are you shaking?" "I said later Sharlene. Right now we have to go," James slammed the door, flicked the keys over and pushed it into reverse; pealing out into the street and around the corner. Dropping her into drive, his lead foot hit the accelerator and threw me back into my seat. 'Perfect' by Hedley played softly through my broken speakers as the streets blurred by; my car's engine revving higher and higher to accommodate the speed. Patrol cars kept the streets clear and honked once as we sped by; Detective Andrews having probably sent out a call to not stop us. Dropping the heat, I secured my camera and leaned my seat back; Sharlene wrapping her arms around me as well as she could. "Where are we going?" I mumbled as he drifted around a corner. "Safe house thirteen eighty-three," he answered gruffly, slowing a little. "But I can't tell you exactly where it is." Nodding, I reached into the the back seat and grabbed an energy drink; hoping the caffeine and sugar would calm my nerves. "Doll, I don't think an orange Rockstar will help," Sharlene tried to take it away. "Don't. She needs it if she doesn't want to slip into shock," James glanced over at us. "In that case," she cracked the tab. "Drink up." Forcing a small smile, I gulped it down; the fizz tickling my throat. "I would kill for a cigarette right now," I breathed as I set the half-empty can in the drink holder. "I think that will have to wait for a little while," he shook his head. "Damn. Oh well," I shrugged awkwardly. My cell rang randomly; making us all jump. Reflexively checking the caller ID first, I frowned at the blocked number. Flipping it open, I set it to speaker before saying anything. "Hello?" I coughed. "Did you get my gift?" the voice straight from my nightmares asked nonchalantly. Hanging up, James shut off my phone and dialled his partner. "He has her number," he growled. Putting it on speaker, he set it between the seats and gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white. "Keep your phone off. Do not go home. Do not contact your family," Andrews voice was a little distorted. "Tell me exactly what he said." "Verbatim? Did you get my gift," my voice shook. "Shit. God damn, mother fucking, cock sucker," he swore like a proud sailor. With his sealed history, he probably had been. "Do everything Jimmy tells you. We'll make sure your family is safe." "Understood," I retrieved my Rockstar and chugged the rest. "Please -- " "I won't let anything happen to them. Take care," he hung up. Flipping James's phone shut, I dropped it into his nearest coat pocket and reached for another energy drink. "Oh no Mel. You have another one and you'll either be up all night, or you'll crash really hard," Sharlene plucked this one away easily. Pulling out a gold-foiled block, she handed it to me with a smile. "Have this instead." Opening it, I gave a small, genuine smile at her home-made brownies. "Do you ever go anywhere without some of these?" I pulled the corner off one. "Nope. You try going eight waking hours without one of these," she stole a tiny piece. Sucking the melting chocolate off my fingers, an acrid taste hit the back of my throat. "Shar? Stop eating. Something's not right about those brownies," I slurred. "Mel? Mel! Jimmy, redirect to the nearest hospital," her voice grew distant. "MEL! LOOK AT ME! DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING DIE ON ME AGAIN!" Closing my eyes halfway, black overtook my vision and darkness sucked me under. My usual nightmare haunted me; and like the previous times, I was unable to unmask the man who had shoved his hand into my chest and squeezed my beating heart. I came awake screaming; my hair loose and tangled around my face as someone set their hands on my shoulders and tried to push me back down. Thrashing, I managed to land a solid blow to their jaw before the pain cleared my head. Allowing the large hands to order me around, I leaned back into the uncomfortable bed. "Damn you have a wicked right hook," the voice was male. "Years of living with nothing but older siblings," I rasped. "It's Monday, isn't it?" "Thursday actually. Your memory has reset, hasn't it?" he asked. "Midnight Sunday turning to Monday. Unless I'm awake. Then it resets while I'm sleeping," I massaged my throat a little. "What happened and who do you happen to be?" "Andrews," he stepped away to give me a look at more than his well-defined bicep. "The brownies were spiked. Well, the cocoa that went into them was. Sharlene doesn't know who did it. She'll be fine, by the way. It appears that it was a custom designed poison that only activates when combined with your favourite energy drink." "Fuck," I closed my eyes. "Our thoughts exactly. This prick has been watching you for a very long time without us knowing," he shook his head, a little stubble dusting his face. "I'm here to spring you. The staff are getting suspicious of our gag order on the occupant of this room." Nodding, I pulled the needle out of my arm and reached around to the back of my heart monitor; flicking it to off before removing the sticky pads. "I take it you've done this before?" he chuckled, holding a hand out to me. "A couple times," I took it. Pulling me to my feet, I was expecting one of those embarrassing, ass-revealing hospital gowns. "Sharlene bought you some new clothes. She dressed you this morning," Andrews steadied me. "Thank god for small miracles," I smiled. "My family?" His face fell dramatically. "I'm sorry. We were too late." My knees buckled then; my muscles going limp. He caught me easily; setting me on the bed only to lift me again with my torso pressed to his. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I clung to him as he grabbed a bag from the chair and walked easily to the door. Opening it one-handed, he carried me casually into the hall and nodded to the nurses we passed. In the elevator he pressed my back to the wall and placed a single kiss against my throat. The door dinging, his gait was normal as he walked down the hall and out the door; nothing indicating he was packing an extra hundred and thirty pounds. "The car is silver, as per your request. Hers is still being inspected for tracers and bugs, but it's bomb free," a vaguely familiar voice directed itself at Andrews. "Will she be all right?" Ignoring them, I didn't hear his reply. I just tightened my hold on his neck and tried to hold back my anger and sorrow. "Melaney? What would you prefer? Pepsi or Red Bull? Unfortunately, until the poison is clear of your system you can't have any more Rockstars," Andrews bounced me a little. "Pepsi," I mumbled, his use of my first name not escaping me. "I hate the cotton candy taste of Red Bull. It's too sickly sweet." Nodding, he set me in the open passenger seat and buckled me in; setting the bag by my feet before gently closing my door. He walked slowly around the front of the simple sedan; his mouth moving silently until he stood by the driver's door. Saluting, he got in and grabbed a Pepsi from the back; handing it to me, he started the car and eased out of the space. "Where are we going?" I asked, trying to break the can's seal. "Same place as before you were poisoned," he reached over and cracked it for me. "Thank you," I murmured in a deadpan tone. "Melaney?" he used my first name again. "It doesn't seem like it at the moment, but everything will be okay. It may be fubarred now, but we'll catch the bastard." "Fucked up beyond all recognition. That's one way to put it," I stared out the window. "Story of my fucking life." He didn't try to strike up a conversation the rest of the way. It was five hours of silence as he kept us at a constant 160; the scenery flying by as he would sometimes take a hand off the wheel and almost reach for me, only to put it back with a sigh. I dozed lightly for the last hour; every detail playing through my head as the scar on my abdomen itched. He had cut into me with surgical precision; slicing beneath the diaphragm so I could breathe while he gripped my heart in his cold hand. He had tortured me first, for hours; burning and branding, cutting, whipping, but never raping. He hadn't been eunuch enough for that. He hadn't needed that kind of power trip. He preferred to feel a person's life slipping away. He got a kick out of it. I had been lucky. My heart stopped the first time he squeezed it. It had restarted after he took his hand out of my chest, but he hadn't noticed and dumped me in the middle of the street. Even the techs had thought I was dead when they arrived. It was Detective Joshua Andrews who had checked for a pulse -- just in case -- while they photographed, bagged and tagged everything. The next month was spent in hospital. The two after that relearning how to move without help. The next year training myself to not jump at the slightest sound. It had been a long road. And now I was nearly back at the beginning. Fuck. Bad Blood Ch. 02 Parking outside a very rustic-looking cabin, Andrews shook me lightly out of my quasi-sleep and handed me a new Pepsi. "It doesn't look like much from the outside, but there's a bomb shelter built fifty feet into the ground beneath it," he smiled a little. "There are proximity sensors secured to trees for several kilometres in all directions." Nodding, I sipped at the carbonated caffeine but otherwise stayed motionless. "Is it sound-proof?" I muttered between swallows. "The interior? Yes, for the most part. The bedroom is a sealed entity to itself with reinforced steel walls -- not even a squirrel can be heard in the trees. The main room, however, you can hear only the major things like a falling tree or a vehicle coming up the road," he clicked the buttons releasing both our belts. "Bedroom?" I repeated, emphasizing the singular. "Unfortunately, yes. But it has been shown to decrease the likelihood of witness death," he blushed a little. "All agents are trained to wake at the slightest shuffle -- whether we have been drugged or not. The access panel to the subterranean bunker is also in the bedroom." "Good to know," I sighed, reaching for the door handle. "Let me get it. The ground in this area is covered in a thick layer of finely broken glass," he reached across the seat and stilled my hand; his arm pressing against my breasts. "One quick question. Can I smoke in there?" I breathed shallowly, realizing just how thin the top Sharlene bought was. "With a window open, yes," he didn't move his arm. "You still suck back Canadian Classics?" "King size," I nodded. "How long do you think it will be before I can drink Rockstars again?" "Impossible to say. A week at least," Andrews finally retracted his arm. "Go back to sleep. I'll wake you when food's ready." Nodding, I curled up in the seat and shut my eyes; sleep immediately sucking me back under. The world was soft and warm when something falling snapped the last vestiges of sleep from my brain. Bolting upright, a soft blanket fell off my shoulder and pooled on my legs. "It's okay. I just dropped a pot," Andrews called over sheepishly. "What time is it?" I asked, folding the blanket and standing. "Quarter to seven," he looked over his shoulder at me. "Is tortellini okay for dinner?" "Yeah, sure. I haven't had any since my grandmother's arthritis stopped her from hand-making it years ago," I smiled. "Do you know how good hand-made tortellini is?" "My mother is purebred Italian. She and her mother made the best I ever tasted. Unfortunately, we're stuck with store bought tonight," he chuckled. "How do you like it topped?" "Just some freshly grated parmesan if there is any," I took a seat at the little table. "You're in luck," he put the pot by the sink. Turning, he placed a half-full bowl in front of me; cheese already dusting the top. Handing me a fork, he sat opposite me and kept his head tucked over his food. For store bought and factory made, it was pretty good. Literally inhaling the food, I paused to grin at him over the salt shaker. Leaning over to the counter, he pulled open a drawer. Grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, he handed them to me and smiled widely. "Window over the stove is open. Feel free to blow the smoke in any direction," he speared a piece of tortellini. "Even down your throat?" I blurted out, blushing as I realized I had actually said it out loud. "I'll smile, nod, and take that as a side-effect of your poisoning," he averted his eyes. "Random loss of vocal control noted and ignored." "I don't know why I said that..." I returned to stuffing my mouth with food. Setting my fork in the empty bowl, I pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit it. Sucking in the initial plume of smoke, I held it and closed my eyes. Exhaling, I brought the cigarette back to my lips. The smoke was warm, almost hot, as it slid down into my lungs. "How long have you been a smoker?" Andrews asked, putting his fork down. "On and off since I was twelve, so about fourteen years," I shrugged, taking a breath of clean air before returning to the carcinogen. "On and off?" he repeated. "I stop and start. The more stressed I am, the more I smoke," I blew a ring into the air. "And no, someone who has just started can not blow smoke rings. Sometimes they happen by accident, but it takes a lot of practice." "Good to know. Does your -- never mind," he shook his head. "What? Did my family know? Yes. I was skimming out of their packs in the beginning," I inhaled. "They did their best to discourage me, but they realized cigarettes were better than the crack and meth being sold at my school. My brother eventually got tired of me sneaking his and bought two packs each time, giving one to me." "Ah, the wonders of irritated older siblings. How much older than you was he?" he smiled. "Seven years. Though it was one of his frat buddies who took my virginity when he came to visit one spring break," I stubbed out my cigarette in the little ashtray. "How old were you?" Andrews's eyes were downcast. "Still twelve. It was a week and a half before my thirteenth," I shrugged again. "I didn't even know what was happening. The guy was drunk and I woke up as he was pushing his dick into me. His only words were 'scream and die'." "Did you tell anyone?" he growled, tensing in his seat. "Sharlene, in grade eleven. We were playing Truth or Dare at a sleepover and I didn't want to do any dares," I lit another cigarette. "Other than that, I closed myself off from everyone and avoided all males except my family. Even then I stopped saying more than a few words to them." "What happened to your brother's frat buddy?" his voice was dark. "My brother said it was a suicide. By the way he smiled maliciously when he told me, I think he may have killed him and made it look like he killed himself," I smiled a little. "After that he spent more time with me. It wasn't until I graduated that he told me he knew what had happened that spring break." "Knowing family, I wouldn't doubt it if he murdered the bastard. Though, as a cop, I can't condone it, I still applaud it," he smiled a tiny bit. "Did the pig at least use a condom?" "Nope. I hadn't started bleeding once a month yet so I blocked it out for a while," I took a big drag off my cigarette. "Until, of course, I figured out that he had gotten me pregnant and that I wouldn't get it for another seven months at least. I went to a clinic and they agreed to help me abort without telling my parents." "Good clinic. How did you get to it without alerting your family?" "I went to visit one of my aunts out of town. She knew, the moment she looked at me. She drove me to the door and signed the releases, pretended to be my mother," I stubbed out the butt of the cigarette. "She was visiting my parents last weekend." "I'm sorry," he reached a hand over the table and ran his thumb over my cheek. "So am I. She was an amazing woman," I shut my eyes tight. "How many bodies were found?" "Seven. The IDs said they were your parents, brother, and sisters. The only two unidentified ones are likely your aunt and uncle," he cupped the right side of my face in his warm hand. Nodding, I stood and took my dishes to the sink. Running a little water in them, I turned and walked across the small cabin, curling up on the soft couch. Andrews followed and pulled me into his lap; more as an action of comfort than lust. His higher body temperature lulled me to sleep; no dreams assaulted me in the darkness. The world was too soft when I woke. Rolling over, I curled up and tried to go back to sleep. Failing, I sat up and stretched, my clothes twisted painfully around my body. The floor was warm as my bare feet found it. Adjusting my clothes, I rubbed my eyes before sliding through the ajar door. The scent of cooking eggs and bacon greeted me; Andrews shirtless in front of the stove. "Breakfast cooked by a half-naked, barefoot -- not going to finish that thought," I grinned, sliding up to the table. "'Morning!" he was perky. "How do you like your eggs?" "Don't have a preference," I opened the fridge. Grabbing a Pepsi, he turned, took it back and handed me a jug of milk instead. "Let your body absorb a little calcium before you load up the sugar and caffeine," he smiled. "It goes better with eggs anyway." "Glasses?" I asked, sighing at the lack of bubbly to start the day. "Cupboard right above your head," he turned off the stove. Reaching up to grab one, he turned and accidentally bumped into me. Without really realizing what we were doing, he had my shirt off and was laying me on the tile floor. He was pulling my pants off before I could exhale; his jeans already around his knees. In a fluid movement he had my hips in the air and he was jerkily pushing his erection into my body. Moaning, I wrapped my legs around his lower back and met him stroke for stroke as he pounded himself into me. Setting my hips on the floor, he placed his hands on either side of my chest; bringing his head down enough to kiss me as he continued to hammer his massive self into my comparatively small body. His lips silenced my screams of ecstasy as each penetration brought me closer and closer to orgasm. Twisting my arms around his, I raised my hips and arched my spine as the pressure in my abdomen finally released with a scream. Clenching my muscles, it didn't really register in my mind as Andrews's cock was spasming within me; hot liquid splashing against the internal end of me. Panting, he carefully let his weight drop onto me; his body pinning me to the floor. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he gasped, sliding his arms between me and the tile. Remaining silent, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and set my feet on the floor; my legs bent and raising my hips a little. The alteration in angle deepened the length at which he was penetrating me. A soft moan escaped my lips as he slowly, tantalizingly slid himself in and out of me. The pressure began to build again as his solidness caressed my insides, the head of him bumping against me every so often. Capturing my lips, he silenced my scream as he brought me again and again until he joined me; his cock jerking inside me with a muffled gasp. "I think breakfast has gotten cold," he chuckled, slowly sitting up and easing out of me. Pulling my pants back on, he handed me my shirt as he stood; waiting for me to slip it on before helping me to my feet. Leaning against the counter, I reached up to the cupboard and managed to grab a glass without anything going 'wrong'. Pouring myself a glass of milk, I stuck the jug back in the fridge and retreated to the bedroom. Locking the door, I curled up in one of the darker corners and drifted back to sleep. My dreams were different -- no longer the repeat performance of the torture. Instead, it was a replay of my brother's frat buddy and everything he did to me. The smashing-in of a door jolted me awake; Andrews already pulling me into his arms and slowly rocking me until the horrid high-pitched noise stopped. Had I been screaming? Possibly. It wouldn't have been the first time. Really opening my eyes, I managed to notice his gun sitting on the floor beside him. "Just a nightmare," I assured him. "Sounded more like bloody murder," he chuckled, loosening his arms the tiniest bit. "Oh, it will be," the phantom of my nightmares smirked, reclining in the corner across from us. "I'm going to have so much fun with you after the trouble you put me through. And finding you! I had to torture so many people that just weren't my type. You did get my gift, didn't you? That girl by the bay? She looked so much like you, before I opened her up that is. Though she screamed for me. One thing I regret is that you never did Melaney." Screeching, I bolted upright and cracked my head against Andrews's. Punching wildly, he pinned my arms and held me to his warm chest until I calmed down. "You're okay. No one knows you're here," he whispered. "I put a call through and everyone thinks I moved you out of the country." Calming down a little, I stared blankly at the corner I had been curled in. "How did I get onto the bed? I remember falling asleep in the corner," I dug my nails into his back. "I actually don't know. When I came in here you were already tucked under the covers," he frowned. "I haven't seen or heard anyone come in here. And the door was unlocked." "I distinctly remember locking it. Maybe the mechanism is jammed?" I offered hopefully. "Can't be. I checked it when we first arrived," he dashed my half-conceived hope. "Okay, so was that sex in the kitchen another part of my fucked up dream?" I shook my head. "I remembered his face this time. I never remember his face." "First part wasn't part of dreamland. Isn't remembering his face a good thing? We can identify him now," he held me a little tighter. "It's not a good thing. He hasn't been caught because he's dead. He died last weekend," I shuddered. "It was my brother." Bad Blood Ch. 03 "Your brother? Why? How?" Andrews was pulling me to my feet and shoving the bed out of the way. "Why did he go after you?" "No clue. I honestly don't know why he would do it," I shook my head. "Maybe killing that bastard gave him a taste for it." "Fuck. Come on, down the hatch," he waved me over as he lifted a seemingly seamless section of the hardwood floor. "The ladder only goes for fifteen feet. The other thirty-five are covered by the equivalent of an elevator." Nodding, I descended into the darkness; the rungs on the metal ladder cold to my bare feet and hands. Touching down, I let go as the dim light overhead went out. Andrews was silent as he came down; the only indication he was there the heat radiating from his body. His arm found my waist in the inky blackness as the platform plummeted. I felt weightless as we dropped; my stomach still up at the ladder from the sudden movement. The brakes didn't make a sound as they abruptly brought us to a halt. Andrews didn't let go of my waist as he stepped forward and a red light blinked in front of us. It turned green with a beep and a sliver of light appeared to the left. Widening, it stopped when there was a full door in view. "There's a locker through the far door. Left side has handguns, the fully loaded magazines for them are directly across from the compatible stocks," he gave me a little shove and sat in a very comfy looking chair in front of a state-of-the-art computer. "Don't touch the case in the bottom. A phosphorus grenade down here would kill us and render the point of this little excursion null and void." "Understood," I snapped a mock salute before stalking to the door and down the dark corridor behind it. The locker took up the entire wall; however, it stood empty. "Scream and I will slice your throat, do you understand?" my brother's slightly distorted voice followed the knife nearing my thin neck. "Go to hell, Damian. I don't know how you could smile and hug me at all those family gatherings after what you did to me," I spat on his matte-black shoes. "And I don't know how you could let Mr. Steroid fuck you on the kitchen floor," he snapped back, backhanding me when he was within reach. Hitting the locker door on my way to the floor, the metal clanged loudly just before I let out a fake cry of pain. A thin trickle of blood ran down my cheek as I scooted to the wall and used it to sit up. Tucking up into a ball, I hid my head as Andrews slid silently around the corner and broke Damian's wrists. The sickening sound of breaking bones reached my ears as the knife hit the ground. "You can look up now," Andrews gently pulled my right hand from my face and ran his index finger over the cut. "We need to get that cleaned up, in case he coated the blade in anything. I take it that he told you to not scream?" "Yeah. Classic cliché with that one. I don't think he expected me to hit the locker after he smacked me though," I massaged my ribs. The only problem with hitting the locker was that I had lost any chance of softening my fall. The left half of my ribcage took the most damage, and would undoubtedly be bruised by morning. "I don't think he's been working alone. Either someone trained him, or he's been training someone else." "I came to the same conclusion when you were walking down here. Staging his own death would definitely have taken another person, and then getting out of the morgue after -- that is definitely not a one man job," he slid an arm around my waist and eased me to my feet. "We'll get you cleaned up, your brother properly secured, and then find somewhere else to hide you until his partner is caught. This time we'll let them think we're still here, and not send in a report of location change." "Good idea. The fewer people who know I'm still alive, the better," I nodded, grimacing as I attempted to walk. "How hard did you fall?" he raised an eyebrow at me. "That, I don't know. I smacked the locker door instead of cushioning my fall, so it was probably fairly hard," I managed half a dozen steps before crumpling. "Too hard. I'll check them thoroughly later, but I wouldn't doubt it if you broke at least one," he slid an arm beneath my knees and lifted me easily. Striding down the hall, he toed open the door and set me on the soft cot I had failed to notice on my way by. Pulling the thick blanket over all but my head, he placed a small gun in my right hand and showed me the safety before grabbing a set of handcuffs from a desk drawer and returning to my evil brother. "Fuck!" The shouted expletive bounced down the hall. Andrews was back mere seconds later with a murderous expression on his normally handsome face. "He's gone. The weapons are all there, but the fucking bastard is gone." Blood drained from my face and I set the gun on the floor. "That proves the theory of an accomplice." "Yes, it does. I'm just going to update the profile before getting you the hell out of here. Until we know who's helping him, the only way you'll be safe is if we're the only two people who know where you are." "Is it day or night?" I murmured, bringing my now-free right hand to my still-bleeding face. "Night, why?" he grabbed a bottle of isopropyl alcohol and some cotton balls from the cabinet. Squatting by my head, he applied the drying, disinfecting liquid to the cut. I flinched with every careful stroke; the sting and roughness of the cotton on my sensitive skin more than my over-active sensation receptors could handle. "Daylight would make it harder for him and his accomplice to sneak up on us, unless you have a garage down here that will lead us to a car far away," I held back a curse as he lifted a can of spray-on bandage and shielded my eye. The aqueous material felt odd, to say the least, as it adhered to my flesh and sealed the cut. "Very true, however it also makes it easier for them to track us, and potentially cut us of from escape," he tugged his shirt off and flipped a switch set in to the wall above my head. The doors slammed shut, steel covers sliding in to place, as a red warning flashed on the computer screen. "The warning is just a notification that the people outside of this room are about to get knocked out for an unknown amount of time." "Delectable," I smiled, trying to sit up only to have him push me back down. "Yes you are," he pushed the blanket off and carefully removed my shirt. I held back a wince as his hands brushed over my ribs. "I'm going to miss you when we have to go our separate ways." "Do we really have to?" I pouted, holding in a gasp of pain. "I wish there were another way. You'll be put in the witness protection program, and I'll be reassigned to somewhere in the Middle East," he supported his weight with his forearms just above my shoulders. "I'll always remember you. I promise." "Don't make promises you can't keep," I turned my head away as he shifted and pulled the blanket back over me. "I never make promises I can't keep," he sighed. "And I learned that not even family is to be trusted. Promises are like rules -- made to be broken in the most painful way possible," I clutched my ribs as breathing became difficult. "Trust is for fools and people who don't know better." "Who made you so fucking jaded?" Andrews demanded, getting up and grabbing a tensor bandage from the same cabinet as the alcohol. "Answer me that one question Melaney." "Go to hell," I wheezed, the angle I had accidentally twisted into putting pressure on my ribs. "Been there, done that, got the souvenir t-shirt," he shrugged, forcing me back into a comfortable position. Shutting my eyes, I vanished to my happy place as he set about taping my ribs. Ignoring the pain, I concentrated on what I would do to Damian once I got my fingers around his throat. A particularly painful pull on the bandage jerked me away from the fantasy as my ribs crunched and a cry of anguish was torn from my throat. "You're no better than he was," I spat, holding my ribs as something warm began to coat my fingers. He was up and moving as I pulled my hand away to inspect my fingers. The blood was slightly sticky as I put my hand back and felt the bone sticking through my flesh. Andrews had the tensor off and a gauze pad over the hole before I could blink. "This is going to hurt, and I'm sorry for that," he gritted his teeth and shoved the shard of bone back into place. I screamed and convulsed as blood poured out and pooled on the cot. "Sh, sh, it's okay Melaney. It's okay, we'll get you taped up again and taken care of." I blacked out from blood loss and pain as he pressed a fresh gauze pad to my side. The pain vanished somewhere between limbo and anguished unconsciousness. "Melaney? Can you hear me?" a female voice penetrated the darkness. "What the hell did you do to her? It's been over a week and she hasn't moved." "Me? I didn't do a damned thing to her! I got her here as soon as I could for fuck sake!" male this time. "Bullshit Andrews. Bull fucking shit. She's strong, but that can only take her so far. The only viable reason for her not being awake right now is if you did something." The woman, whoever she was, was pissed. Three shades of it by the sound. "Sharlene, back off. The doctors said that with the head trauma she might not make it. It's a miracle she's survived this long," a new male chimed in. "If she wants to, she'll wake up." "Fuck off," I grumbled, regrettably opening my eyes. The bright lights started a migraine and opened a can of grumpy. "Mel? You okay doll?" the female was holding two fingers in front of my face. "How many fingers am I holding up?" "Two, now who the hell are you?" I batted the hand away. "Sharlene? Your best friend and roommate? Known each other for I don't know how many years? Come on, Mel, you know me," the brunette dropped her hand. She turned and attempted to whisper. "Whatever happened, this is bad." "No shit, Sherlock. I want to go home," I pulled the needle out of my left arm. "Now if someone will get me some clothes, I need to call my family and check in." "Um, Mel? I'm sorry I have to tell you this, but your brother killed them all almost two weeks ago. He's the one who tried to kill you a few years ago." "No one tried to kill me, except a stupid cheerleader in high school. Now where am I, and when do I get to go home?" "Mel, our high school didn't have a cheer squad. The funding for it had been cut long before we started school," the woman kept talking as though I knew her, as though she were my friend. "And you're in a hospital, we can't tell you where. You can't go home. Not until your brother and his accomplice are caught." "I don't have a brother, and my name isn't Mel or Melaney. It's Candice. I was born July 17, 1978 in Buenos Aires, Argentina. My parents immigrated to Edmonton when I was six, and had my sister not long after that. They died in a car accident four years ago, and my sister is at the University of Edmonton. Why do you keep referring to me as this Melaney person?" "You three need to leave," a new male voice ordered. "It appears that she has constructed a new reality during her coma. It could take a while to bring her proper memory into the forefront. If anything changes, I'll notify you as soon as I can. And, Detectives, I would suggest keeping the guards on high alert if she really is the target of the Harbour Ripper. I would rather murder not happen on hospital property, if possible." "Yes sir," the two original men answered in unison, taking the chatterbox of a woman with them. "I'm sorry for this, but if you ever get your memory back then we're screwed," the doctor leaned over me as the door shut. His near-black hair had streaks of grey running through it as it fell around his face. Thick, horn-rimmed glasses slid down a slightly squat nose as he raised a pillow and pressed it into my face. Unable to fight back, I passed out long before I should have. Screams pierced the darkness and somewhere above me light was directed towards my eyes. Failure to acknowledge it led to a burning sensation in my side and chest as electricity hit my heart. Everything was crystal clear as they tried to revive me. It was a fluke that I had survived the first time, a miracle that shouldn't have happened. Andrews had been sent for me, to make my life bearable, to help me relearn how to live. It wasn't kismet, as some would call it, it was just two paths converging at the right place and time. It wasn't coincidence either -- and never believe anyone who believes in it, it's pure bullshit. An electric jolt nearly twice as strong as the first brought me back, no fake memories, and I managed to turn with my broken ribs to vomit on a nurse's shoes. A ringing in my ears kept me from hearing what people were saying, but strong hands turned me back to a relatively flat position as random fingers felt for a pulse in various extensions of my anatomy. When they were satisfied that I was still alive, the random people I couldn't recognize vanished from view. "We need to get her changed, and this place cleaned up," Sharlene mouthed, probably actually speaking, above me. "As soon as she can hear again. The gunshot was close enough to her ear that it could take a while," Andrews 'mouthed' back. "Can we at least get her out of here? I don't want her to see the body," Sharlene waved at something I couldn't see. "That, we can do. Jimmy, go tell an orderly that we're moving her down the hall." No one spoke for a while after that, so I took it upon myself to break the silence. "Why didn't you let him kill me? You would have had him down for murder if you couldn't tie him into my brother's crimes." "You remember?" Shar arched an eyebrow as her voice came through, almost as though bouncing down a long tunnel. "Yes. And I want to talk to Josh alone for a minute, please Shar." "Anything you need, doll." "Thanks." She was quick with her exit, thankfully. "What do you need, Mel?" Andrews frowned down at me. "What would it take to get you to stay?" He looked down at me in confusion and paused to think. "Tell me you love me." "I love you." "I don't believe you, say it again." "I love you." "Liar." "I love you." "I love you too."