...and he said why put a new address on the same old loneliness? when breathing... this is action packed. think of it as mission: impossible with a way better fashion sense. this is my Hallo...
"Catch me if you can!" The adolescent girl screamed, yelling over her shoulder and emphasizing her point by connecting her gaze with that of her brother's.
She giggled loudly before letting her feet take her as quickly as she could around the corner of the house, hearing his voice behind her.
"Anabelle! Gimme me it back!"
She picked up her pace, the wind blowing her tangled brown curls around her face. "I'm not givin' up that fast, Patrick!" She hollered, gripping the G.I. Joe action figure tighter and jumping over a pile of leaves that the autumn season had brought.
Her laughter was cut short when her foot caught on a protruding tree root, causing her to lose the battle with gravity and fall to the sidewalk with a thud.
The youthful boy quickly fell to his knees to hover over his baby sister. Her pale grey eyes opened to reveal tears, immediately tumbling over her eyelids to wet her flushed cheeks. He quickly pushed them away with the back of his dirty hand, leaving a noticeable stain under her eyes.
"Please don't cry," He pleaded, as she sat up and balled her hands into fists, rubbing her eyes roughly to wipe the tears.
"It'll be okay," He reassured her, helping her to sit up.
"My arm hurts," She whimpered, pulling up the sleeve of her favorite "My Little Pony" jacket to reveal a bleeding scrape. At the sight of the red substance tears flooded her eyes again, causing her little body to quiver harder. "It's bleeding, Patrick!" She wailed, half terrified.
The young boy lifted her sleeve more to examine the cause of her anguish. He quickly unzipped his windbreaker and unbuttoned his flannel, quickly taking off the garment, not noticing the breeze as it nipped at his upper body. He reached out for her arm and she winced, pulling it back quickly.
"I'm not gonna to hurt you," He said, looking over to her disbelieving eyes. "Do you trust me?" He asked, reaching out again for her arm. She nodded her head slowly and let him wrap the fabric over her wound. He tied it in a gentle knot before grabbing her hand to help her up.
"See? It's all better now," He said, smiling down at her red swollen eyes.
"It's doesn't hardly even hurt anymore," She replied, a smile overtaking her features. She sniffled before continuing. "Thanks for taking care of me, Patrick," She gushed as he ushered her into the house.
"That's what big brothers are for," He beamed, reaching a hand into her hair and ruffling it with his hands.
Belles eyes opened slowly as she let a tear descend from her eye upon extracting that memory. It didn't give her strength like it should have. It instead reminded her of all of the times he's been there for her, and the fact that he couldn't be here now. Not that she would want him to. She heard his desperate voice over the phone, and he was going through hell. She shouldn't have made him feel like a bad person for trying to find love, she shouldn't have tried to piss him off, and she shouldn't have hit him.
Her thoughts snapped back to the present when she felt Brocks presence in the doorway.
She lazily looked up to connect her eyes with his. He didn't blink; he kept his haunted gaze on hers. His dismal orbs were bleak and unmoving, completely void of any emotion except hatred. She could feel the darkness in them, and a feeling ran through her body like she had never felt before. He would hurt her...she heard him say on the phone that he planned on it. She pealed her eyes away to keep the tears at bay. He wasn't going to take pity on her; she knew he was beyond that.
He walked slowly over to her, and she noticed the bottle in his hand. He took a seat next to her and slowly untwisted the cap. The label clearly read Smirnoff Vodka. The duct tape over her mouth prevented her from questioning the bottle and her eyes widened as she looked at it.
"Now, I'm going to take the tape off, and then you are going to drink," He paused reaching up to her face. "We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. I suggest you don't be a bitch," He warned, gripping at the tape at her mouth before forcefully tugging at it.
She felt the tender skin on her lips rip open, immediately dripping the distinct crimson fluid from it. She let out a loud painful moan but sucked in her sobs. She clasped her lips together in an attempt to get her pain at bay. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and the taste it left made her shudder.
"I don't want it," She said meekly.
His finger traced her face, and she winced at his touch. He ran a finger over her lips and she shook her head feverishly in an attempt to rid of his caress.
His eyes narrowed on her. "Yes, you do," He said, grabbing her chin and bringing the bottle up to her lips. She clenched her lips together as best she could. She didn't want to be under the influence; she knew it would deter her judgment, and thus, her escape.
His fingers dug into the flesh of her jaw, and she let out a yelp as he pressed the bottle once again to her lips. His timing was impeccable: as the liquid made its way into her mouth he yanked her head back, opening her throat as the Vodka made its way down her esophagus. She coughed, but because her neck was extended it didn't stop the natural flow of gravity. The liquor was spilling out of her mouth and she felt it trickle down her face, neck, and chest. She jerked her head forcefully and Brock pulled the bottle away.
He dropped his hand from her hair to examine the bottle, his face showing disappointment at the fact that only a quarter of the contents were missing, and about half of the quarter was now seeping into her skin and clothes.
Her cries were barely heard as she nuzzled her head into her shoulder. The alcohol made her stomach turn and her throat burn.
"You know he's going to catch you. You're going to rot in prison for this," She bellowed threw coughs.
"If that thought comforts you then keep telling yourself that,"
"They're sending the sketch over right now," Ally said, turning her attention to her sleep deprived partner as she placed the phone back on the cradle.
Kevin just nodded his head in understanding as he heard the ringing of the fax machine. His nerves were on edge as the paper slowly filtered it way out, the inked image was warm in his hands as he snatched it up.
He sat down quickly and began to examine the face, starting with the chin. His bone structure is perfect, but not memorable Kevin thought as his eyes scanned the portrait meticulously. He let out a frustrated sigh and continued, stopping at the sketched eyes.
A flicker of hope was extended his way and he leaned closer to the drawing. Those eyes...
Kevin clenched his eyelids shut, concentrating fully on that image, running it over and over in his brain.
His eyes popped open as the memories came flooding back to him.
His fingers began trembling, releasing the portrait and letting it flow to the floor.
As he started thinking out loud Ally took a seat next to him. His voice was monotone and hardly above a whisper.
"It was one of my first cases. A young woman about 19 came into the station in mid autumn. Her face was blue; you couldn't overlook the evidence of abuse if you wanted to. They gave her case to me, claiming it was a "open and shut book" case. I spent the first hour calming her... she explained that she was being stalked by an abandoned lover. She wanted to place a personal protection order, but refused to press charges against him. I tried to explain to her that we couldn't take action against him without her consent, but she still refused. I had no choice but to drop the case. Of course I helped her seek medical help, but after that I didn't hear from her again. Less than a week later her brother came by begging me to do something," Kevin picked up the paper again and glanced at it.
"That's him, her brother. He was...he was furious. He said that she was scared, she was walking on egg shells. He begged me to help her, but she hadn't been beaten again, no threats," Kevin paused when he choked up.
"We found her body a week later in an alleyway in Lakeview; she had been beaten and raped. I didn't do anything to help her, Ally. She came to me for help, but I couldn't do anything legally. I mean, I was just starting out. I didn't want to step on Chiefs toes when he told me I had to drop the case. What was I gonna do? Argue? Hell no, I was going to listen to orders. Everything in my body told me I was doing the wrong thing, but I couldn't argue with the chain of command. I told myself I had too many other cases with people who really needed my help. That's how I justified ignoring her,"
He turned his head to look at Ally, the gears in her mind racing. She reached her hand out to his shoulder as he closed his eyes tight and shook his head back and forth to clear his mind. Now is not the time for nostalgia, he told himself. "Her name was Sara. Sara Fieldstead,"
"That's a good start," Ally replied sympathetically, removing her hand. "I'm going to call Clay, let him know we have a lead. I'm going to start looking through the database. You should call her friends, maybe Kay and David. See if they know something," She advised, grabbing a file.
Ally looked at her tired partner and pulled him into a quick hug. "You should probably call your brother," and with that, she released her grip and walked out of the office.
The last thing I said to her was that I couldn't stand her. So many thoughts are going threw my head right now. My chest feels so tight, but taking a deep breath is not an option.
Not when my baby sister is being manipulated by some fucking psycho. I don't know where she is, there's nothing I can do.
There's nothing... Patrick thought to himself.
He let the tears fall. He was trying to count them as they ran down his face, finding an odd serenity in being able to overpower his mind with thoughtlessness.
He felt Pete's arm on his back, but he shrugged it off like the feeling had burnt his skin. He quickly wiped his eyes, rubbing them off all traces.
"I don't know..." Pete muttered, pausing. Patrick pulled his head out of his hands and could feel himself glaring at Pete.
"I don't know what to say..." Pete barely finished before Patrick felt the words coming out of his mouth.
"You can start by telling me about your relationship with Belle," Patrick mumbled, turning his head to catch Pete's eyes, which widened.
Pete cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, rubbing his arms nervously. "It's not a relationship, per se," Pete replied slowly.
"Friends with benefits?" Patrick asked with a scowl overtaking his normally light features.
"Why do you even care? You've been too busy with your latest fling to even fucking notice," Pete grimaced at the tone of his own voice.
"She's fucking confused, Pete, and you've been taking advantage of her! Yeah, I fucking care!!"
"You don't know what you're talking about," He replied composedly.
They sat in silence for another minute before Patrick found his voice.
"I don't want the details... I just want to know you didn't have sex with her,"
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Patrick blurted.
"We didn't exactly have sex..."
"How is that possible? How do you almost have sex??"
"Well...ugh," Pete stuttered for a second and clenched his eyes tight, as if speaking caused him physical pain. "We, well...we couldn't find a condom and, ugh, so we-"
"For fuck sake!! Just...stop fucking talking, okay?!"
Pete submissively shook his head in understanding and clenched his hands into fists before deciding to get up from the table to walk into the kitchen.
Patrick's chest was heaving. This is too much. How could Pete do that? She's in a very vulnerable spot, and he almost has sex with her? Patrick felt his body heat continue to rise with his thoughts. His hands clenched into tight fists./ He knows what she went through, how defenseless she is right now, and yet he can't fucking tame his hormones. What kind of fucking sick person takes advantage of an susceptible girl?! And my fucking sister, at that!!/ Patrick thought furiously.
Patrick stood up swiftly, his chair falling over backwards with the force, as he practically jogged towards Pete's retreating frame.
His first instinct was to shove him, causing Pete's body to jut forward.
Pete quickly turned around, the shock apparent on his face.
"What in the fuck are-" His words were cut off when Patrick's fist collided with his jaw.
Pete recovered quickly, charging Patrick with his shoulder, taking them both to the floor. Patrick's head hit the tile with a thud, but he quickly shook it off and recovered by using his body weight to push Pete off of him.
The clicking of the door was heard, closely followed by footsteps. Andy appeared first, with Joe and Greta quickly in tow.
"What in the hell are you two doing?!" Andy exclaimed.
Patrick looked up for a brief second, and Pete's fist collided with his lip. The collision caught him off guard, but he quickly got his focus back, bringing his own fist down to Pete's head. Pete shifted hastily, causing Patrick's hand to slam into the floor. Patrick yelled out in pain as Joe rushed them, grabbing for Patrick's body, pulling him up by his arms with the help of Andy.
"What in the fuck is going on?!" Andy screamed, as Patrick tried wiggling out of Joe's clasp and Pete nursed his jaw with his right hand.
Patrick's struggling became less and less violent, until he withered up and went lax in Joe's grip and took a seat on the floor. He pulled his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Greta, Joe, Andy and Pete stood still, none of them knowing what to do.
His body began to tremble violently and his sobs were heard loud and clear.
He had finally broken down.
Kay took a seat in a worn looking leather chair, waiting for Kevin to get off of the phone. He called her moments before, claiming that utter chaos had struck, and he needed her to meet him in his office.
"You're sure his name doesn't sound familiar, Patrick? Belle never talked about a Christopher Fieldstead?" Kevin turned around to notice her small frame, and he held up a finger signaling he'd be with her shortly. She nodded in understanding, feeling quite uncomfortable with the situation.
"Okay, Kay is here. If I get anything out of her I will call you back," Kevin paused for a second, as if looking for the right words to say. "Just try to take it easy on Pete. We all kind of expected something to happen between them...yes, I understand how you feel. Just don't think about it now....try to take it easy, Patrick. Love you," Kevin sighed loudly as his closed his phone and turned to her.
"Alright, has Belle ever mentioned a Christopher Fieldstead to you before?" Kevin asked, skipping the small talk and grabbing the portrait off of his table and walking over to her.
"Is this about the rape thing? You know, she never said anything to me about it. I had to hear it from Patrick, and I'm supposed to be her best friend,"
Kevin sighed and took a step closer. "She's been abducted,"
Kay squinted her eyes in disbelief. "What? How?"
"I'll explain it later. But right now I need to know if she's ever mentioned anything about a Christopher Fieldstead,"
Kay closed her eyes to try to remember the name, but nothing came to her. "No,"
He handed her the fax and her eyes went over the portrait. "That's him. Does he look familiar?" Kevin asked, and Kay looked at him with confusion.
"You must have the wrong guy," She said, handing him back the paper.
"That's her agent... Brock,"
Authors Note: This was a pretty terrifying chapter to write, so i thought i'd post it in homage to Halloween.
please rate/review, i worked my ass off on this chapter.