Semester Test

                It was the strangest thing I had ever seen, with tubes and wires sprouting in all directions. “Isn’t it beautiful,” my father whispered intensely.

                “Um,” I muttered leaning carefully over the railing. I couldn’t find the words to describe the thing in front of me; it was the strangest thing I had ever seen, with tubes and wires sprouting in all directions with a sort of electrical pulse running through the middle of it.

                He ignored my uncomfort and continued on about his achievement. “So many years of work and struggle and it is finally done! Oh Claire, this will fix everything. I’ll have everything I want now!”

                “Daddy I don’t know about this.” Something sparked out to the side and cracked as it hit the metal fence standing between myself and the machine. I flinched backwards as my heart flew. “It kind of looks  . . . dangerous.”

                “Dangerous,” he questioned looking down at me confused. He was so tall, it scared me at times just how menacing he seemed without trying.

                I flushed awkwardly, I was risky business doubting Daddy’s inventions. “I just meant that it looks like it’s as powerful as a bomb.” That was a lie. The contraption before me was like nothing on this Earth, it was in its own category of terrifying and insane. It was the strangest thing I had ever seen, with tubes and wires sprouting in all directions with a sort of electrical pulse running through the middle of it. Something above the device whirled at a speed I could fathom, so fast that it was picking up little bits of torn paper out of the air and swirling them in its own little orbit.

                My father chuckled, “No, no, silly Claire, it’s not that powerful.” I sighed relieved, the bulking machine’s appearance was just misleading. “It is infinitely MORE powerful than any bomb.” His smile was ecstatic as he took the stairs two at a time down toward the machine.

                “Daddy, no! What are you doing?”

                “Testing the child of my ingenious loin!” He laughed like a mad-man. That statement sounded infinitely correct. The machine was his child, not me. I was a mistake, a glitch in his circuit of life. That terrible, awful machine that was the strangest thing I had ever seen, with tubes and wires sprouting in all directions with a sort of electrical pulse running through the middle of it. That machine with something above the device whirling at a speed I couldn’t fathom, so fast that it was picking up little bits of torn paper out of the air and swirling them in its own little orbit, with pointy arms of steel spitting out of the sides creating a never ending chain on electrical current flowing through the crackling center. His newest creation was his child, not me.

                “What do you mean testing? You just finished it. Shouldn’t you check it over another time or something?”

                “You sound scared Claire. Don’t you trust my calculations?” My father looked wild, a cliché mad scientist. His stained white lab coat flapping in the breeze, his hair whipping in all directions, a huge grin upon his lips, eyes bulging with anticipation, and a stance of sheer unfaltering determination.

                “Of course I do.” A horrible lie that most days Daddy would have seen right through, but not today. There were more important things on his mind than my petty lie.

                He darted to a control panel and began flipping switches and typing in codes. Dear God, he was actually going to try to do it. “Daddy wait!” He snapped a furious glare at the interruption. “Maybe you should try it out on something else before the big experiment.”

                “I’ve waited thirteen years! Why should I wait any longer?” The bags under his under rested eyes made him look older than usual in the dim light and his fury more obvious. The machine sent an enormous bolt of electricity in my direction as if in its own fury. I dove to the ground and tried to convince air to refill my lungs. It was the strangest thing I had ever seen, with tubes and wires sprouting in all directions with a sort of electrical pulse running through the middle of it. Something above the device whirled at a speed I couldn’t fathom, so fast that it was picking up little bits of torn paper out of the air and swirling them in its own little orbit, with pointy arms of steel spitting out of the sides creating a never ending chain on electrical current flowing through the crackling center. The sounds it made were enough to drive a person into the asylum. So loud and sudden and fierce it made my stomach churn.

                “Give me one good reason to wait,” my father growled.

I swallowed hard. “Because you loved her. If you want this to go right you should try it on something else first. You would never forgive yourself if you let this machine loose and ruined your chances of ever getting Mom back.”

Daddy suddenly looked blank and calm, like I used to know him. “Your mother, Beatrice.” For what seemed like hours he stood still and silent.

The resurrection machine attacked me again. “Please,” I called desperately at my frozen father.

He blinked twice and nodded, “Yes. A very good thought Claire. I’ll try it on something else first.”

I sighed easily as he went back to the mainframe and switched enough dials that the apparatus stopped acting quite so violently. “Good,” I called down to him. “We’ll turn it off for now and find something else to test it out on a bit later.”

“Now,” he yelled back. “We try it out now.”

“What?!” No, no, no, please no.

He darted into the closet next to him and a horrendous stench followed him back out. My father had two dead animals in each hand. A dog, a pig, a cat and a small beaver. “No,” I whispered. The thought of his collection of departed organisms nearly made me hurl. “You’re sick.” I know he heard me that time, he glanced at me for a split moment then tossed the animals towards a marked spot on the base of the machine.

“Here we go.” It took all his strength to pull the switch. Everything went to bright to see as the electric current hit a new high and blasted out in the lab, small fires started on my father’s notes. I couldn’t breathe in terror yet again. Four small animals ran around under me.

My father made a triumphant noise and leapt into the air. “It worked! I can bring Beatrice back!”

“NO!” This was wrong. I missed Mom terribly, but this was wrong.

He ignored me and reset all the dials and knobs to the massively powerful setting he had the set at before, the ones that were supposed to bring my Mom back to life. I got shakily up and stood watching frantically over the barrier between me and magic. Something smacked me in the head and I fell back wards. I recognized Mom’s coffin in front of me being lowered from the ceiling. “Watch it,” he barked at me watching the descent of my Mom, like bringing her back from heaven. It was then I realized my father was not really my father, just another man.

                As soon as Mom was in her spot Frank yanked the switched the crank. Another bright flash. Frank ran to the casket just as a hand grabbed the side of it from the inside. It had worked. I threw up until I dry heaved. Not right. My former parents embraced and cried. My mother looked up at me and smiled. My eyes unfocused as if I was going to pass out. Then, suddenly, an earth shattering noise. The machine. Something fell off the side, then a spike got sucked into the whirling and flew at the wall embedding itself. It was falling apart. The two adults below me tried to run but . . .

It was the strangest thing I had ever seen, with tubes and wires sprouting in all directions with a sort of electrical pulse running through the middle of it. Something above the device whirled at a speed I couldn’t fathom, so fast that it was picking up little bits of torn paper out of the air and swirling them in its own little orbit, with pointy arms of steel spitting out of the sides creating a never ending chain on electrical current flowing through the crackling center. The sounds it made were enough to drive a person into the asylum. So loud and sudden and fierce it made my stomach churn.  It was the machine that killed my parents just after making them both seem alive again.

Bobbi Story Start

"Get out of there as fast as you can!" I yelled to my brother as the phone began to cut out.
"Thank you captain obvious, I'm tryin' to do just that."
"Don't you mouth off at me!"
"Stop telling me what to do!"
"Do what you're supposed to the first time and I won't have to."
"Whatever," he hissed automatically.
"Just hurry up," I begged.
"Is that concern I hear," he asked smugly.
"Yeah," I snapped back, "because if something happens to you, it's my butt."
"Chill, I'm just about out."
"Good. But don't let your gaurd down."
"I'm practically home free."
"Practically are safe are not the smae thing, Lawerence."
"How many times are you going to tell me that?"
"Until you realize it," I stated determined.
"Right . . . So forever?"
"If that's what it takes." My brother was about all I had left, I wouldn't let his own idioacracy get the better of him. Not on my watch.
"I'll be back soon so stop worrying your little head about it."
"Fine, but make it snappy."
"Yes, ma'am!" His voice was all sarcasm, he would never take my orders seriously. "Be there in just a- AHH!"
My heart stopped beating, I knew my brother's pain noise and I knew it well. "Lawerence?" All asorts of strange noises came through the phone. "Lawerence!?"
"Back off," I bearly heard him yell before shots rang out. Lots of shots.
"Lawerence!!!" I sprinted from the car as the shots continued, but my brother's voice didn't. Somehow I managed to scramble up to the high window and pull out my gun. Lawerence was down there and bleeding out his side, sure he was still standing and moving away, but he wouldn't make it out . . .
I couldn't finish that thought, not now. One by one I popped off every person in my sight while battling the tear flooding my eyes. "Come on Louie . . ." The other side's men were turning back, reluctant to leave their intruder alive. He made it to the door and I leapt down to the ground, norrowly avoiding breaking the leg. "Lawerence, Louie, sre you okay?"
He leaned into me, which could only mean it was bad. "I'm fine," he lied.
"Let's get you the hell out of here." He nodded. The car sped away at massive speeds. His face was becoming more and more pale as we drove, I called in the incident and they promised to have medics right at the metal gates for us. "You're going to be fine," I whispered, more for reassuring myself than him.
"I've had worse," is all he said leaning back and wincing a bit.
"I'm so sorry Louie."
"Why," he siad glancing at his side and staring. I had to force my eyes from following his.
"We shouldn't have done that. We should have waited for others to come and give us a hand."
"I insisted. Nothing you could have done about. I was the stupid one here. Don't worry about it."
"No, I should have insisted. I just let you go in there alone."
"Emmy you know better than anyone I'm stubborn. Just let it go, I would have marched in there no matter if you had agreed or not. And you didn't agree, you fought hard to not let me go in threre, but I pestered you into it." I shook my head. "Em, please, stop blaming yourself. It's not like you got me shot. I got me shot."
"But-"
"Enough," he said forcefuly. Lawerence coughed and hacked leaving a trial of blood coming from his mouth and a small pool on his leg. "Shit," he muttered before swaying into the window.
"Laerence? Lou? Come on, stay with me."

But he was out. Later I would find out that he died there in the car. Right next to me. My brother died because I made I didn't have the strenght to say no and demand a change of plans for the safety of my only family. Since then I've moved into the ranks above me, taking my borther's place then surpassing it. I hear people whispereing and muttereing about why I'm so harsh and strict now, why even my superiors will accept my courses of action when it was not as ordered so easily. None of them have it right. They say I'm dark and cruel, that I don't care about procedure or life anymore. But it's just the opposite. I don't leave people behind. I force my opinion to happen because I care. But no one will understand that.

Mike's Story Start

The headlights were coming straight towards me and I couldn't move. Why the interstate, why now? And I'm pretty sure that this guy is speeding like nobody's business. Closer and closer. I shut my eyes tightly and whimpered a bit, but I could still tell the lights were coming through my lids. I didn't want to die.
Woooosh!
All went silent, dark.
I opened one eye, the darkness was everywhere. I was in one piece, one single piece! My breath came out sputtered and exhausted. Tires squealed behind me and I looked back, two motorcycles could be seen on either side of the lane. Suddenly I was so lucky all I could do was smile and laugh. Motorcycles, how perfect!
"Holy shit, what was that," a man's gruff voice asked.
"I thought it looked like a . . . I dunno."
"Help me," I yelped.
"Jesus, it was a person!"
They came running back to me, "What in the hell?"
"Kid, what's going here?"
"I-I I don't know. Please help me," I begged.
"Yeah sure, Louie, got your knife on you?"
"Duh," the younger one mutter and went to cutting the rope wrapped all around me.
The other man, one with a burly beard and a bandana wrapped around his head, kneeled next to me and looked me up and down. "How did you end up here?"
"Um, I couldn't honestly tell you. I don't remember much," I responded oddly. It was the truth, everything seemed fuzzy and I was so dizzy . . .
"Woah now," he said catching me before I fell over. "Got your self a nasty little bump on your head and some serious bleeding."
"That explains a lot," I whispered. The man from behind finally got through the rope and helped me out of them.
"Somebody really didn't want you to out of this stuff," he said moving on to my wrists. "All around you and on your ankles and wrists. You sure you don't remember all this?" He looked at me with a slightly teasing grin.
I forwned. "No."
The older one smacked his friend. "Don't be rude. Or stupid."
"M-yeah, yeah," said sawing atmy bonds.
"My name's Sting," he said, "and the idiot's name is Blade, for obvious reasons."
"For a guy named Blade he evidently doesn't know how to use one."
He gave me a blank look. "You see how thick these are, all I got is this puny pocket knife because SOMEBODY thought I should put the rest of 'em away so I don't do anything overly stupid in my next fight. Not such a good move now, huh Sting?"
"You'll thank me someday," he repiled simply.
I sighed as my arms went free, though my wrists were red and scraped with rope burns. My ankles slipped free next and I realized that I had been taken movement for grated for years.
"So what's your name," Blade asked flipping his knife away.
"It's May," I siad trying to get up and failing. My head was in massive pain while the rest of me felt woozy.
"Easy there." Sting held my arm.
"Is there somewhere we could take you? Home?"
I frowned at the ground. Nothing came to mind. Did I have a home? Family, I had to have a family. Didn't I? No one came to mind.
"May? Hello?" Sting looked at me worried.
"I-I-" Suddenly I felt shy and scared. Was I alone in the world? Why was there no one I could remember? No place I wanted to be, other than off this road.
"Have no where to go," Blade asked softer now.
"Well, I can't think of anything.
Sting snorted. "Sounds familiar," he said glancing at Blade. "Come on, you can hitch a ride with us. There's not a police station for a while though."
"Thank you," I said softly. They walked me to their cycles as my nerves escalated.
"Ever ridden on one of these before," Sting asked.
"Don't think so."
"Just hold on then," Blade said starting his and watching me awkwardly put my arms around the stranger I was sharing a two wheeled vehicle with. We sped off towards nothing but more black, it was beginning to feel like I was going to forever be in the dark. Who was I?

"As the building exploded" story start

As the building exploded I realized I forgot my wallet. "Damned it all," I hissed rubbing my ringing ears. Just another day in paradise: explosions, death, knife wounds, bullet grazing and all before lunch time. "I don't get paid enough for this crap," I muttered while whipping out a cigarette and lighting on a nearby scrap of debris. The walk back to my car would be a long one, but also a chance to relax before setting out to redeem my reward. Half a million dollars to kill a buch of wanna be gansters in the middle of nowhere. Not a bad price. Of course the men were probably not the men I was told they were, but that wasn't my business. All I had to do was obey a few orders and get paid, this job was meant for me. Sure I missed my daughter's birth and a few milestones -- but hey -- least she will never have to take out a student loan. My wife got a little stressed or frustrated at my constant absence, but for the most part she was content with her life. She should be, anything she wanted, she recieved.
"Nice boom on that one," came a voice from the trees on my left. Gunther. (A very cliche assasin fake name, I know.)
"I do that," I replied with a shrug.
"What's wrong with you today? You're usualy so smiley after an explosion."
"Meh, just kinda bored."
He stopped. "Bored?"
"Killing people for money can only be done in ways these days. Clients either wants no one to know, or something big to everyone knows. Explosions and sniping have become redundent."
"Not in a million year did I think I would hear that out of you."
My shoulders slumped a bit in resopnse. I don't care who you are, if you've killed as many people as Gunther and I have, you're bound to go a bit insane. Literally. Gunther handles it by enjoying the hell out of every kill and therefore has no chance of anything close to a normal life. Me on the other hand, I have become quiet and numb, according to my wife and shrink. But I don't really care what they think. I don't care about anything anymore.
"Oh well, guess some people just lose sight of the glory of this," the bulky man said firing a rifle into the trees.
"What the hell Gunther, you trying to get firied," I growled.
His laugh came out harsh and bellowing. "Never!" He fired again and again into the air.
Screw it, let him have his fun. Fun. I couldn't remember what that felt like anymore. As my partner drank whiskey from a flask and sang terrible pub songs I drifted further and further from him towards my vehicle. I just wanted to go home and sit in a quiet, dark room. Away from everyone. Not that it was likely to happen. My wife would try to smother me with love as if making up for the time I was gone then try to have me play with our girl. Only late at night could I have my solitude.
The car was there, shiney and sleek and ready for speed. Bofre me lay the highway, but I could see an old road that would lead me the long way back to town. That would work. going 90 down the dirt roads couldn't even put the adrenaline in my heart these days. One-ten wouldn't either. I couldn't sleep on the plane. My mind wasn't intersted in the babble my wife was saying as she picked me up from the airport. The house we had bought didn't feel like a home. The fireplace couldn't warm me nor could the shower wash the feeling of grime off my being. Then there was my little girl. Little Sonya. I sat in an armchair as she wobbled next to coffee table, standing mostly on her own. She looked at me and I looked straight through her. Her legs began to move shakily and her arm streched out to each side coming towards me. My gaze followed her, but it was like looking at a glass of water. I felt nothing. Her body hit my legs and she looked up and smiled at me. My blank face met her's. Those were her first steps, I was nearly posative. My wife have told me about such a thing by now if it had happened.
"Oh," the woman cooed right at the moment that tought had ran through my mind. "Our baby's first steps!" She scooped the girlup and snuggled her tight, but Sonya kept her eyes on me. Her little smile puffing up her cheeks. I was still blank faced.
Her first steps.
I was right.
But I wished I hadn't been.
Her first steps.
And I felet nothing.
Hollow.
More than anything I wanted to feel proud for my girl and grin and hold her close and praise her.
But no emotion came, not even the energy to get up and hold her.
Suddenly she began to bawl and turned from me.
I still felt nothing.
That was the first time I realized I was a monster.

Still more of Gia's Story Start. Post 5

Josie woke around ten the next morning. “Crud,” she mumbled sitting up and rubbing the stiffness out of her neck. “Note to self: Don’t fall asleep reading files on the couch.” Papers were sprawled out all over her coffee table, her floor, and her lap. There was so damned much material! It was gruesome how much forethought and research had been done on this kid, and even worse -- all by Andrew. Still, she didn’t know why she was doing all this. She picked up the pictured and squinted at it, “What does he need you for so badly?” Photos never answer, but still it was nice to talk to someone. For three days she had been reading, eating, drinking coffee, and reading again all about this little lady. Delia, was her name. Cute, strong, sarcastic, funny, a bit chubby granted but still a very pretty little thing. Low self-esteem, dark dressed, tough stuff, thoughtful, intelligent, hated math . . .
She shook her head back to reality. Memorizing all those facts had gotten to her Young Miss Delia Fallon was about all she could think of. “The lack of sleep can’t be helping.” Rubbing her eyes she fumbled her way to the kitchen and smacked the coffee pot into life, letting the succulent smell coat her in waves. Josie always took her morning break next to enjoy her brew, she needed it with a job like this. Images of the laughing girl kept slipping into her mind though, never letting her relax all the way. Her eyes flashed open, Why can’t I get you out of my head? You’re just another target. Why does my head consider you special?
Giving up on becoming any more tranquil, Josie ran all the facts she had acquired on this girl and compared them to all of her old targets. Irregularities, irregularities, where were the irregularities? There had to be one, otherwise she would be able to drink her black coffee in peace. Finally she fell upon age. Delia was seventeen, only seventeen. “Oh,” she said long and quietly. Well that made sense, it was natural to think seventeen was too young to get mixed up with a creep like Andrew. Any reasonable person would think so.
Then why was her heart pounding and her faced flushed with embarrassment?
A deep sigh filled her chest and then collapsed it. She knew very well why. Nathaniel and her had been talking of second generations and babies just before he died. Of their hopefully soon-to-be-children. Nate had always been an anxious to be a family man. Josie found it adorable, so she went along. Get married, have kids, be in love. That had been the plan, so she involuntarily had begun to think of what she hoped their kids to be like. Strong. Sweet. A bit sarcastic. Cute. Thoughtful. Funny.
Nearly everything Delia was.
Josie had wanted a daughter like that dear little Delia.
Josie cursed passionately as tears formed in her eyes, “Why does it have to be like this? Why does she have to be like this?” Without thinking her hand graced over her middle. Since she was young Josephine had known she didn’t believe in God, but she had prayed up and down to be by some miracle pregnant with Nate’s child when he died. But she had never been a lucky woman and was left hollow and alone.
Her lips were wet the way they always were when she was on the verge of crying and her throat hurt from keeping back the sob, but she made her way back over to the pile of information. She had to find something, anything to keep her from think of that Delia in connection with the child she never had. There was practically no way she could get this assignment done otherwise. For the rest of the day she searched frantically, not stopping to eat but once when she thought otherwise she might go cross eyed from concentrating so much. Something had to break that bridge between the two girls, it could be minor but something.
A knock at the door sent her heart into overtime and two feet into the air. “Just a knock, Josie, calm down,” she told herself.
The second she threw the door open she regretted not checking the peephole first. His head cocked and his frowned, “Dear me Josie, are you crying?”
Josie wiped her face quickly and was surprised to find wet cheeks. “I suppose I am.” She looked at Andrew blankly, in control of her emotions again. “Didn’t notice,” she said honestly.
He nodded simply and entered her house without a word of invitation. Overconfident ass. Nonetheless, she made no comment and closed the door after him. “What brings you here?”
His glance around the house showed no disapproval or interest, which was probably a good thing. “I came to see how your little project was going. You never answered you cell so don’t blame me for not trying to warn you of my visit.” A glare formed on his eyes and Josie’s stomach churned.
“I figured this assignment deserved my full attention, I must have tuned everything else out.” This was absolutely nothing short of the truth, she had been so focused that the house could have burned to the ground around her and she wouldn’t have noticed.
The glare mixed with scrutiny. Josie stole a glance at her cell. Three missed calls. Shit! Suddenly he relaxed, even smiled. “The impossible has happened! I have gotten through to Josephine!” Andrew’s chuckle was light and playful. “I see you speak the truth, so I suppose I can overlook this mistake. It is for a noble cause.”
She breathed again. He laughed. “How far are you into the reading.”
“Done,” she said leaning against the wall and rubbing her eyes. “Just going through it all a second time. Caution and knowledge seem to be the name of the game here.”
“Really? Done?” His brows had jumped. Andrew didn’t get surprised easy so it made her grin eerily with satisfaction.
“Read every line.”
“Good,” he said turning and walking to the table. “Though I must say you organization could use some improvement.” A mug of coffee had left a few rings on a number of sheets, the pot from this morning lay empty on the floor close by. She shrugged. Andrew picked up one of the pictures of Delia and held it gently by the edges and smiled in a way that Josie had never seen before. Was it caring? Not his usual work relationship kind of ‘caring’ but a full, profound and – dare she think it – almost tender type of caring. It made her sick, for the girl.
“There is one thing I’m unsure of,” she piped boldly.
“Oh?” He wouldn’t take his eyes off the photo. A sudden powerful urge to snatch the girl’s face from his grasp and hold the snapshot close came over her, but she refrained.
“WHY I am doing this. The girl’s not rich or powerful, nor is her family. Other motives seemed obsolete, but I find myself going over them again. Usually I can see some sort of reasoning behind these folders but . . . not with her.”
For the longest time he said nothing, his odd smile gone. “Is the why really that important?”
“I’m not like that monster that killed Nathaniel, if I do something I need to have a solid reason.”
“She’s perfect,” he said calmly, “that’s why.” Andrew laid the photograph back in the pile and turned away. “I need her for something very important. That’s all the reason you’re going to get.”
“Not much of a reason,” she mumbled. Now she was the one who couldn’t stop looking at her.
“If you want Nathaniel’s killer you’ll stop pressing. It’s a confidential matter, for my concern and mine alone.” Back to strict.
Josie had expected an answer like that, but still found it annoying. “I’ll do what you want but you better deliver. I don’t like this.”
That’s when she had said too much. Andrew’s eyes stared at her in the way that made her want to scream in the silence. I’m doomed. “You don’t like this,” he questioned.
“Forget I said anything,” Josie said turning away.
“Your job isn’t to enjoy, it’s to do. But now I’m curious, why do you have such objections?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you care about her. Delia. And you never care about targets.”
“It’s nothing.” Just back off, please.
“I’ve told you time and time again how important this is, I need to be sure your feelings will not get in the way.”
“They won’t,” she pushed past him back over to the table and pretended to look at the papers again.
“Did you have children, Josephine?” She stopped dead and gasped. “Josie?” Her mouth felt numb. “I believe my inference was correct.” The smugness in his voice made her disgusted.
“I’ve never had kids,” she hissed. Don’t cry, not in front of him.
“Then you wanted them,” he continued. She stayed quiet as his eyes traced her up and down. “I could see you having a little girl like Delia, spunky and grinning.” He’d found her out. Josie felt like she was cracking from the outside out. “It’s a shame you don’t have kids,” he said softer, “you might have been good at it.”
Andrew turned suddenly and headed to the door. Josie frowned after him, that’s all she was going to get from him? A halfway gentle comment after his annoying prying? What was she suppose to make of that? “You’ve confused me, Andrew,” she called after him.
“I do that,” he replied opening the door.
She wanted to force the explanation for his ways out of him: about Delia, about his caring, about his job, about his meddling about children. But she couldn’t, not without getting punished and letting sobs escape again.
However, she got a bit more than she was expecting.
“Josephine,” he said low before walking out, “you need to hear something.”
She turned her head slightly.
“It’s not too late.” Josie frowned at him over her shoulder. “It’s never too late to get back what you thought you could never you could have.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just don’t give up, Josephine. I’ve been in your boat, lost of everything. Don’t give up. Find another way, I did.”
“Oh really,” she said using sarcasm to cover up the weeping, “what’s that?”
He almost didn’t answer, then he almost did. Andrew was being completely honest and Josie could tell. That man let his emotions flow out to his workers very rarely, but he letting it all hang out.
Andrew closed the door behind him.
He hadn’t answered.
But Josie knew.
Delia.
Delia was his second chance.
Delia was to be his. His. He had fallen for her.
Delia was doomed.
Josie collapsed in terror. “I have to save her.” But Nate. She had to avenge him.
“Shit,” she gulped past the tears. She cursed everything around her. She couldn’t make that decision, she couldn’t. Josie sat crying for hours desperate.

More of Gia's Story Start. Post 4

That unappreciative whelp. I give her what she wants and she decides to toy with me? She has no right to question my trust, she is nothing. Just another worker. But she wasn’t really, was she?
No.
She would be the one to bring him his Delia.
But why did it have to be Josie? The woman who was a pain in every last way, shape, and form. Delia would appreciate a woman with spunk and her own mind, in so few words. I watched my new client’s car speed away, bunch of scared rich idiots, they would soon be paying me out the ears. Not my problem if their company crashed due to foolishness.
“Mr. Andrew?” My receptionist Angela Lawrence was lovely, small built, big chested, and oblivious with a high voice. Especially when she was flirting, like now. A deep sigh escaped from me.
“What Angela?”
“I believe that was your last appointment for the day.” She was working for me to distract outsiders and to keep things looking normal. Not to actually keep track of my job, I could do that myself, something she had not realized and so continued to point out the obvious.
“Ang, how many times have I told you, I know my schedule. There is literally no reason to remind me of such petty things as meetings and the like.”
She did that dreadful little laugh, “Probably a few times more than you have, it is my job to look after you!” He shuddered. She was so awful. “But I mainly just said it to lead into asking you something.”
“You may leave early.” Please be what she’s thinking, not what she is most likely to be suggesting. Please . . .
Her hand ran up his arm. Shit. “No, I was more thinking about staying after a bit later.”
He groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Angela when we had sex last time, it was not the beginning of a fling, I just did it spontaneously. Don’t count on doing it often. You’re not sleeping your way to a raise either.”
She blinked stunned at my bluntness. No one was quite as blunt as he was.
Well, Delia was close . . .
“Excuse me,” she said breathlessly.
“Oh Hell Angela, it wasn’t even that good. Chances are it won’t happen again. Ever. Just go home and find someone else to sleep with. I have things to get done.” I began to walk away as she stood running my reply through her head.
“Not good,” she roared after me. Took her long enough. “What do you mean it wasn’t good? I am great, amazing in fact! You’re going to regret this you jerk, I’m the best thing that will ever happen to you!”
“Wrong,” I said low getting into my overly expensive car. Angela stood fuming. I pulled up next to her and rolled down the window. “I appreciate what you’ve done for my business, Ang, I do, but the sex was just a one time thing. You are more than welcome to continue working for me, however I recommend that you forget out little overtime action ever occurred. I leave it up to you.”
“What if I expose you? What if I tell every last person in your contacts that you and I slept together? What if I did that?”
“Well then you would be spreading an irrelevant truth all over to a mass of people who are completely dependent on me. No one will care, Ang. They will continue to work for me and give me money and do anything I please. You can’t comprehend just how much influence I have in this world or how much I influence it. Do yourself a favor and don’t tell anyone, the consequences towards you will be unpleasant, to say the least.”
Judging by the drained looked that crossed her face my point had gone through. It would be regrettable to kill Angela, to have and train yet another new secretary, but nothing I couldn’t do easily. Just a bit of a bother.
“Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said putting on a pair of shades against the blinding setting sun. My car speed off and I never bothered to look back to see if she was heading to her car to leave for the day or going back in to clean off her desk. Such a little thing didn’t matter, nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but her. Delia. My clock read 4:18, it was Friday, she would most likely be at work by now. Shame, I had been hoping to get that meeting done soon enough to drive by her job in time to see her walk from home through the door. “Disappointing,” I said sadly. “I could definitely have used a glimpse of my little dove today.” The thought of going into her place of employment wormed it’s into my mind for the millionth time, but I could not. She couldn’t have any suspicions that I had been watching her once Josie brought her to me. We would start a relationship with no predetermined thoughts of one another, at least that’s what she would think. I already knew I was hopelessly in love with her.
The penthouse seemed strangely empty today, and the loneliness filled every corner of my home as an uninvited guest the way it only did when Delia had been on my mind all day long. Once again I took the picture from my pocket and stared, her loveliness still astounded me the way it had when I had first seen her. “My little beauty,” I whispered as a smiled turned up my lips just the slightest bit. Curls framed a face centered around deep, sly brown eyes and naturally full lips just calling out to mine. Those lips made me ache. Delia had a grin to be reckoned with, it was dastardly and playful, but she herself was neither cruel nor sinister. Her heart was gentle and soft while the side she exposed to most was tough and rigged. Too much heartache and distress had befallen her to allow her to open up to very many people, it had made her timid and untrusting. All of this suit me just fine. It meant I could trust her to be trustworthy and hopefully it meant she would understand my distance when it needed to be put into place. We were alike in that way, neither of us could really tell anyone the whole truth.
It must have been hours until I stopped looking at her picture and went to work then shortly to bed. More and more I found she was the only thing that could keep my mind occupied as well as happy. “Good night my Delia,” I whispered through the window as I took one last glance at the cityscape around me, “I will see you soon.”

Dalton's Story Start --UBER LONG you are not obligated to read it all if you don't want, just tell me how far you got. Please and thank you

I woke up to find my pillow on fire . . . This was the start of the worst day ever. "Holly son of a crow!" I threw the cushion across the room only to have my curtains begin to flame and melt. "Help! Mom!" She came bolting in with Hugh right behind her.
"What the hell is going on," Hugh asked still shirtless and groggy.
"FIRE!" Mom jumped up and down pointing, as if that would help.
"Ah," the man said bored. "Right, I got it." He began to walk lazily out of my room.
"Hurry up," my mother hissed passionatley. I couldn't force my mouth and mind to connect. The man came in a moment later with a bright red fire extinguisher and sprayed to his heart's content.
"No big deal, now it's my day off so I'm back to bed."
"Bull snap you are," she grabbed his arm and yanked him back. "My daughter's room sets on fire and you think you get to just walk off. That'snot what you were hired for."
"I was afraid of that," he mummbled.
Mom turned back to me, still shaking and heart throbbing. "Oh sweetheart," she came and wrappedher arms around me unitl I could breath again. "You okay, Ang?" I nodded. "Maybe we should ger you looked at. I'll go call the doctor."
Most people go to the hospital, but I wasn't most people. Whenever some freak thing happened to me the doctors came to me, well doctor really. I'd had the same doc since I was born and had never seen another nurse besides the one who helped deliver me. My life was full of constants like that. Hugh had been my personal body gaurd since before I was born, my 'special' shots had been given since I was born, we had lived in the same town all my life, and perhasp most importantly I hadn't had a father since the second Mom's body had hinted I was there. I hated constants.
"No, I don't need Doc. I'm fine." She eyed me cautiously. I rolled my eyes, "It's Saturday, you couldn't drag to Doc to day."
She smiled and I faked one back, "If you say so, Ang." She pecked my forehead, "Now hop up, I'm going to get Peter in here."
Hugh and I both groaned, "Not Peter."
"Someone set your room on fire! I'm getting him in here no matter what you say."
Ugh, Peter. Another constant. He had been my personal cop/investigator since I was three and had found a package for me next to the door on Christmas morning before Mom got up. Sadly, Hugh was up and snatched the gift up before I could see who it was from. He and Ma told me the package might have beenfrom someone bad and Icouldn't have it or its contents. That was also the day Mom hired the P.I. to figure out who sent it, at least that's what I had been told.
"Now Martha-" Hugh had his reasoning voice on.
"NO! My daughter has been attacked and no matter how annoying Peter is he's a damn good detective."
"Shoot," I muttered knowing defeat.
"No kdding," Hugh sighed. "Fine, but I'm not dealing with his questionaire on my day off."
"Well, then you're not off," Mom said leaving the room.
Hugh glared as she wandered down the hall, but I knew the two of them had hidden feelings for each other and watched his eyes fall to her butt. Hugh had a thing for Mom and a HUGE thingfor her butt.
Rolling my eyes again I threw off my covers and got out of bed, the dark patch on the matress from the flames my my heart pump again. No doubt I would be jumpy today.
Hugh came up and put a hand on my shoulder, "Are you sure you're okay Angie, you're pale."
I glanced at the mirror, my usually tan carmel skin was drained. I looked like crud. "Just a little shaken Hugh no burns or anything."
He cocked an eyebrow at me, "Why would you be burned?"
I flushed, "It was my pillow in fire so I kinda threw it across the room. Bad idea. Sorry."
Starting at his head I watched his body tense and shudder, even the sweat on his abs seemed to freeze. "What?"
"The fire," I stammered. "It started on pillow."
Never have I seen Hugh's tough physique collapse so suddenly. A twich ran through him and his wide shoulders went from strong back to cirled terror. "Your pillow?"
I nodded. "Hugh, what's going on?"
Instantly he wnet back to himseelf with a mixture of determination and anger. "Come on."
He pulled me to the living room. I knew better than to ask for an explanation again, being kept in the dark was normal now. He whispered something to Mom who blanched then turned green all in one second. "What do we do," she whispered to him. I could hear Peter calling from the phone line. My heart went skyrocketing.
"Take Angela to the other room, I'll talk to Peter." It was bad. Hugh would never, never willing speak to Peter.
"Mom what's -"
"Don't speak right now, Ang. Please just don't." Her voice was clogged with sobs, eyes full of tears. As soon as we were in the hall she gripped me close to her chast and pressed her lips to my head. "Just let me hold on to you." I obeyed and held her back. Her sobs broke out.
For an hour Mom and Hugh took turns watching me and talking with Peter over the phone. Both were bent on not having me hearing anything worth hearing just ‘it’s fine’ or ‘don’t worry’. Obviously there was reason to worry and it was anything BUT fine. Peter came by and went directly to my room, I hated having his prying eyes scope out my area.
“I don’t see anything, so it was probably them,” he said after a while. “Sneaky bastards. Where were you, Hugh?”
“Don’t you pin this on me,” Hugh snarled taking an angry step towards the other man.
“I’m not pinning this on you, it’s just a question.”
“I was asleep, last night was for reports so I had only been asleep for about half an hour before I heard Ang screaming.”
“And you Martha?”
“Asleep in my room.”
“Well, like I said they’re sneaky buggers. No surprise you didn’t hear ‘em.”
“I can’t believe this,” Mom whispered.
Hugh put his arm around her, “We’ll keep her safe, Martha, I promise.”
“Still think you should have gone with the alarm system,” Peter mumbled. Hugh shot his a defensive look, HE was the alarm system.
“Ya know, just for extra precaution.” Nice save, sorta. “What do you remember, Ang?”
Hugh and Mom spun around to see me, shoot, I had been found out.
“What are you doing here,” Mom said anxiously.
“It is my room . . .”
“Go into the living room,” she ordered.
Then I did something brave. Maybe a little stupid, but brave. “No.”
Her head whipped back around. “Do as I say Angela, now.”
“No, there’s no way you’re blindfolding me from this.”
“What do you mean ‘blindfolding’? I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“All you’re doing is making me vulnerable, if I don’t know what’s going on it’s the same as walking down the freeway blindfolded. You can’t keep me out this time.”
She looked stunned, when it came to matters like this I usually did as asked, but someone had tried to kill me and I would hold strong. “Angela, to the living room. Now.”
“No. Someone tries to set my room on fire and you try to keep all the information from me? No. I won’t let you.”
“Your Mom is right,” Hugh said, “better stay out of this.” With his calm and cool outlook I suddenly wanted to smack him.
I let out a harsh laugh, “Stay out of it? I was one someone tried to murder here, not any of you. I have a right to know anything you know.”
“No you don’t!” My mother never snapped at me until now, “You’re just a child.”
“I’m nearly seventeen! Let me know.”
“Out,” she barked.
I looked at her like a sick dog, Mom wasn’t like this. Mom was sweet and gentle and reasonable and I wanted her back. “No.”
She flashed a look at Hugh, before I knew it I was on his shoulder and being hauled away. “No! Hugh you jerk, put me down!” He dumped me into the next room and locked the door behind him. “Let me out,” I shook the door furiously to no avail. “This is ridiculous! I should know!”
“I’ll be right outside if you need anything, you’re safe.” I have never hated Hugh’s calm voice so damned much.
Cursing the others I paced the room back and forth. “How could they,” I growled staring at the window. Frosty and cold, just like me right about now. A small bird flitted to my window, too bright and jumpy for the bleak weather. I cocked my head at it and it did the same. “You lucky little devil,” I whispered, “free as can be. If you want to answers you need only fly in and listen. Wish I could do that.”
The bright little thing suddenly seemed to frown, if birds can frown, and tapping gently on the glass. “What’s wrong?” She bobbed at me and started to attack the lock. My hand graced the ledge of the window, but sanity stopped me. “Just a bird, it can’t be asking me to let it in.” Despite my efforts I couldn’t pull my eyes from her sweet, penetrating, soft eyes. “I must be crazy,” I whispered yanking the sill from the frozen wood below. Her colorful feathers flew past my head and settled on the couch shaking her leg. Then I noticed it: a small roll of paper on its leg. Amazingly she stayed calm and quiet as I removed the string
“Can you stay quiet when stunned? What does that mean,” I asked her. I was talking to a bird. Great. She simply looked at me questioningly. “I suppose I can, now that you’ve warned me,” I replied awkwardly.
A tremble went through her, then she spurted up and expanded. Less than a moment later a woman was sitting on the back of my couch. Stunned was an understatement.
The woman leapt up and rushed over to me clamping her hand over my mouth, “I know you’re probably a little scared right now, but please PLEASE stay quiet for me.”
I wormed my way from her grip. “I said I would.” Staring her up and down I tried to take in what I had seen. “Were you just a bird?”
She gave me a kind smile, “Yeah, honey. I’m afraid I don’t time to explain it all right now, but you can trust me. I won’t hurt you.”
“Alright,” I said unsteady.
“May I invite a friend in to keep watch? The last thing we need is your mother waltzing in.” I nodded. “Come on in Frankie,” she called out the window. In a flash a black panther was standing in front of me. I gawked. “Don’t frighten the girl,” the bird woman snapped.
Sure enough he shifted into a grinning man. “Sorry,” he said turning to me.
“No prob,” I gulped.
“You poor dear,” the woman cooed. “It’s already been a long day, look my name is Jemma and this is Frankie. Your father sent us.”
“My father?” They nodded. “I don’t have a father.”
“Uh . . .” Frankie trailed off.
“Well I have a father of course, I just have never met him. Sorry I’m just a little confused right now.”
He smiled, “Understandable.”
“Go listen at the door, Frankie. We can’t have Martha knowing we’re here.”
“You know my mom?”
“Yes, back when she was with your father. Now, back to business. I know you’ve had things hidden from you your whole life, I know you’ve been lied to as well and we’ve dealt with it as long as we could but no longer. You need to know who you are.”
I blinked at her. “I’m lost.”
She sighed but smiled. “Silly Martha, trying to hide you from what you were born to be. It’s a very long story and I promise I’ll tell you everything soon. For now all you need to know is that you are in terrible danger and your dad is the only one who can really protect you now. He’s coming but he sent us ahead first so things weren’t coming at you too fast. Read this,” she said handing me a letter.
“Who is it from,” I asked.
“You Daddy,” she said brightly.
“I’ve never even seen him.” The thought of him still curled my stomach in curiosity.
“He adores you, never have I seen a man who wants something more. Every day he wishes he could see you and soon you’ll be reunited.”
“Really?”
“Really,” her tenderness was sincere, and I believed her.
“Better hurry it up, Jem.”
“I’m getting there. Now, do you think you could try to help us?”
“I can try.”
“Good, all you have to do is try not to talk about this to your Mom, she’d blow a gasket.”
“Scary stuff there,” Frankie teased.
“Trust me, I know,” I muttered. He flashed a playful smile.
“Do that for us and things should be go smoothly.”
“Hopefully,” Frankie added, Jemma glared. He strode over. “Look kiddo, you’ve been given the sweet talk all your life, I think you deserve the truth.”
I nodded, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Well then you should know that your Dad and Mom getting together may cause sparks and we’re not sure if he can convince her to let you come with us.”
“With you?”
“To keep you safe,” Jemma interjected.
“Maybe you can help things along when he gets here. Ya know, try to tell her it’s the best option, that you’d be safe with him, blah blah blah.”
All this was too much, but I was tired of looking from a distance as everyone took control of my life. “I’ll do everything I can.”
He ruffled my hair, “I knew you’d be a good kid, one to count on.” Jemma gave me a reassuring hand on my arm.
“Get your hand off her,” came a fierce growl from the entrance. Hugh.
Both of my guests looked over worried. “Oops,” Frankie said awkwardly, “Should have stayed by the door.” Hugh began to lunge for him and he darted quickly away.
Jemma grabbed me tightly. “Keep the letter hidden,” she whispered in my ear, “And good luck sweetheart.”
Frankie grunted as Hugh landed a fist into his gut, but came back with a smack to get him off. “Later kiddo,” he called before changing back into the predator cat and leaping towards the window, Jemma’s radiant feathers close by. Even after seeing the spectacle once it was still astonishing and left me a bit breathless.