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"Keep me safe." [ bit && Azuriyuu ]

bit

Super-Earth
Joined
Aug 21, 2009
It was hard for Elaine to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes the poor dear was haunted.
And not with the usual ghouls and goblins that were the common source of such terror to people who were afraid of the dark.
No, it was something much more horrific than that.
Something much more real.

They weren't supposed to be there, and that was what probably stung the most. They were supposed to be gone for the weekend on some 'business' trip or another and she was to be staying with a girl friend. Ironic, huh? They were all supposed to be somewhere but there and, well, that's just how it played out.

Elaine was not supposed to be there. I mean, when here parents said Do not go back to the house then she wasn't to go back to the house. That was why the dear hid when she head voices in the other room. It wasn't that she was doing anything bad, simply came back for the clothes she had forgotten. I mean, really. What was the matter? It would be just a second.

A pop in.
A pop out.

Pop.
There goes dad.
Pop.
And mom fell after.

She hid when she heard voices in the pantry. Such a small thing, she could easily fit and, seriously, who ever looked there? The door was cracked a hairline allowing her to see out and wouldn't shut completely, no matter how hard she tried to force it. That was alright. No one would be able to see her.

There were some... men she didn't recognize. They came into view, the kitchen with a doorless frame opening into a spacious room. One made his way up the stairs while the other two seemed to make their way to the living room. And the noises they made were not pleasant. Some ransacking, surely, as they tore the place up looking for something. And then she heard the familiar kick of her parents Camry. Her stomach immediately dropped, a terrible sense of foreboding hitting hard. It seemed the other men heard it too, because they all regrouped back in the dining room. That was when her parents had to bust in, yelling. The men seemed to be shouting her name. Why would they do that? She had nothing to do with any of her parents affairs. They demanded to know where she was, but they remained tight lipped, saying only that she wasn't there. Things only got worse from there, heavier shouting and gun waving. Elaine couldn't understand any more because they'd taken the argument to Italian. But things were definitely not settling down.

And then, all of a sudden, they popped her father and then her mother, who promptly collapsed to the floor in a bloody mess.

Elaine didn't even have time to cry out, her vision failing as she slipped silently into unconsciousness.
Right next to the potatoes.

When she woke up she was still in the closet, but the police where there. An insane condolence, the girl was pleased that hiding place was just that damn good. And then the whole thing came flooding back and she threw the door open in a frenzy, spilling onto the floor. She was wailing, a frantic little thing, and picked herself up clumsily, running to the scene. Elaine wanted to throw herself on them but she was held back, some policeman holding her back.

They took her to the station, found out who she was, what happened, what they might be wanting. She said she couldnâ??t be sure because theyâ??d been speaking in Italian part of the time, but she was pretty sure theyâ??d come looking for her. At that they decided she needed to keep a low profile, perhaps take on a new name. So they began work on settling her into the Witness Protection Program. It would take a while, they said, and asked if there was anything she could do until then.

So she took on an apartment under the anonym they assigned her while she waited to be relocated. Then her best friend, such a sweet thing, offered up their father, a local detective to stay with her for added protection. Elaineâ??s friend said they would go stay with other family (needed to do some visiting anyway) while their father kept a constant eye on her.

And that was where she was at the moment. It was only a week after the murder, the funeral a measly four days before. Elaine hadnâ??t been permitted to go. Whoever was looking for her would certainly be there, they said, and simply couldnâ??t risk it. So she stayed home and consoled herself with a bottle of wine. The girl was only 18 but, as a brand-spanking-new orphan, decided she was allowed to indulge herself in at least this.

But this particular day she pulled herself together, making the place nice for her new guest. She saw that everything was in stock and in the proper order. Her parents had lived very modest lives, but had a nestegg tucked away for a rainy day. The girl wasnâ??t going to have to worry about money for a good while, a newly acquired fortune having been deposited into her name after her parentâ??s funeral. So it was neither scarce nor the crummiest apartments around.

She looked tragic as she walked around her apartment, making sure that everything was in the proper order. Oh, but she was a pretty thing. With smooth, creamy skin and dark hair, such lovely chocolate locks that fell halfway down her back. Her eyes were a crisp blue and that mouth was shaped perfectly, mulberry in colour and looking like it needed a kiss. Her nose was turned up, making her look like some mischievous nymph. And those curves of hers were to die for. Elaine wasnâ??t a flat-chested sweetie nor a grotesquely exaggerated honey. It was enough to leave no room for want, but did give someone the feeling that they might get lost.

It was three oâ?? clock when she finally seated herself in an over-stuffed chair, gripping onto the neck of a bottle as she turned on the television, waiting for her guest to arrive.
 
Bartiel Schwarz-Onyx loved his tea.
Next to his daughter, there was nothing more in the world that he loved than his tea. His tea did remarkable things, like keep him healthy, soothe the aches from old broken bones, and help him wake up each morning in lieu of bitter-tasting coffee.

The thirty-four year old father of one was shaving in preperation to arrive at Miss Elaine's new home.

Bartiel had been in a funny sort of position; he loved having the resources of a police officer, but hated the red tape. So he was in the middle of discussing his resignation with his partner when they received a call that led them to pulling a blood-splattered girl his own daughter's age from a closet, Bartiel contemplated his resignation. When Delilah came to him and asked him if there was anything he could do to help her best friend Elaine(Whose name he remembered from that night) he grew curious. After comparing stories, Bartiel had to laugh at the sad coincidence and irony that he was one of the cops who pulled his daughter's best friend's form out of hiding and protected her.

It also gave him an excuse to take leave to give himself time to think about whether he wanted to continue as a detective. He was a multitalented man, so he wouldn't even need to go to some crummy community college if he decided to persue another path, even at his age. So the offer to stay with Elaine killed so many birds with one stone that it might have well have been dropping a mountain on a duck pond in Bartiel's opinion.

So finishing his morning tea, the almost-middle-aged redhead grabbed the keys for his car and heading out after washing the dish. As he reached the door he leaned down, scratching his Saint Bernard who he (unoriginally) named Bernard between his ears, a smile coming across his face. "Vision'll be along before too long," he said, grabbing one of his bags as the old dog tried to stand up and follow him, alerted from his sleep before Bartiel closed the door behind him. Delilah's boyfriend promised to housesit. Vision was a good guy. Spacey, lazy, and with less attention than Bernard, but honest, earnest, and good-hearted. The kind of guy he wouldn't mind if Delilah staying with.


After making sure he wasn't being followed, Bartiel ended up arriving at the apartment he was told to come to. He raised an eyebrow as he checked the piece of paper. "The right place," he said quietly as he headed over to knock on the door. Bartiel was, to most, an intimidating man. He stood tall, at 6'2", with fair skin that built a slight tan over time. A build that still carried some of the lightness of youth, but had a good amount of muscle built onto it. Piercing green eyes that terrified criminals and suspected innocents alike behind thin-lensed, light-framed glasses. Perhaps the only odd part of his appearance was his ginger hair, pulled back into a ponytail that reached just beyond his shoulders, a few stray gray hairs mixed into the flame color, though those added character and showed his age and wisdom. To those who knew him and looked at him - actually looked at his soft, still-energetic and youthful facial features and expressions that only seemed aged if one looked at the barely-visible crow's feet at his eyes, Bartiel would seem not so intimidating.

Dressed in a gray duster jacket that hung loosely open, his chest adorned in a simple navy blue silken shirt. His legs in a pair of black slacks, and his feet in a pair of heavy black boots, every part of the outfit but the shirt looking beaten and worn with age. He held onto his bag relaxed, and though he had two others in the trunk of his car, he didn't want to bring them in until he was sure that this would work out and he would be able to stay around. He made it seem as if he didn't care about his apperance, but he was making a very important statement in his relaxed appearance; This is who I am, and I'm not going to dress up pretty.
 
For a brief minute she contemplated calling out, "Come in!" but didn't want to feel that pathetic. Besides, she'd have to get up to give him a tour of the house anyway. Might as well seem pleasant from the get-go. And what a good call, too, because those first impressions are so vital. Her legs had been kicked over the arm of the chair and she slid out rather awkwardly, setting that bottle down in the coffee table before she made her way to the door.

"Hehllooo she hummed sleepily, an exhausted smile on her face. Where she thought there would be a face was, instead, and upper torso, and she craned her neck back. She'd almost forgotten how tall he was. "Heyy, Mr. Schwarz-Onyx," she said, stepping back and allowing him room to walk in, "Come on in and make yourself at home. Uhh, yeah. I'll show you to your room, I guess, whenever you want." It felt weird being the hostess of a home. She was so out of place as she stood there, trying to lead the house.

Elaine let him make his way in while she took the bottle from the table and put it up. You're a Pondelli she tried to tell herself. Act like one. But it was so hard. She sighed and tried to make herself care, finding it hard.

She pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge, feeling ill, and held it to her smooth forehead. After a moment she cracked it up and drink half of it. "Alright, so. This is the kitchen. As you can see it's completely open and connected to the living room. Yeah." Struggling between deciding what was stating the obvious and seeming like she didn't want to talk to him. "Uhm, here's the hall. At the very end on the right is your room. It's empty except for the bed, some linens, and a dresser. "It's got a closet, too. And, ah, the bathroom is right across from your room. I hope you're not offended by the pink shower curtains. I thought they were nice." Well, at least she was attempting to have a sense of humor.
 
Bartiel smiled softly as he looked up at her. He hadn't much expected her to be as tall as him, but he tried not to tower or scare her as she allowed him in. He grinned as he looked around. The apartment was nice, but it was just... 'nice'. That was the only thing about it. There were no small cracks in the walls, no stains, and it smelled completely clean; and not the sort of clean that you get from a place being thoroughly, utterly, and undeniably made spotless, yet still holding the subtlties of the scent of the owner.

This place was too 'new' for his tastes, but almost all places that hadn't been lived in for a while were. He followed, remaining mostly silent. "The kitchen, huh? I might spend a bit of time in here. Cooking's a hobby of mine," the seemingly gruff detective said as his first real words. Nodding, he raised an eyebrow and glanced into the shower and gave a light chuckle. "Why, of course I'm offended. Didn't you know that pink killed my father?" he asked, a small smile on his lips as he checked the kitchen, looking through it. Decently stocked but it was missing a few of the more odd items that he liked to cook with. Looking at her smoothing her forehead, he reached out and placed his hand to her forehead, checking for a fever.

No fever. With a slight nod, he then smiled. "Just wanted to see. You should make absolutely sure to take care of yourself, 'cause Delilah would chew me out if you got sick. Troublesome times can cause stress..." he said, before he continued to look around, peeking into his room. As expected, it was empty, but he would move some of his things into here before too terribly long. He hoped that his hostess would relax quickly and consider him a roommate rather than a guest, considering how long he would be here. He didn't honestly know how to treat her, though.

She was older than Delilah, but not a whole lot, and sure, he had Delilah when he was younger than either girl was now, so he often spoke to his daughter on a much more even level than most fathers did to their daughters, but there still was quite an age gap.
 
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