Violet clutched her knife tightly to her chest. Her hands were shaking from the cold and she was underdressed, but she refused to let the knife go, because it was her only remaining lifeline. Her bank account had been empty for weeks, just like her stomach, and she hadn't slept with a roof over her head in a long time.
She climbed up the fire escape with steady determination. When she reached the window of the third story, she crouched down to the balls of her feet and slipped the blade under the frame. It was hard for her to comprehend that six months ago she never would have dreamed about breaking and entering. She grit her teeth as it hit a patch of resistance and applied her full body weight to the handle until she fell forward with a jolt.
Grit stung at her fingertips and dug into her palms, but she ignored the pain and pushed herself back up. She slid the window open and stepped through in an almost graceful manner.
The room was small and sparsely decorated. A single table and chair stood in the corner with a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on top. Violet wrinkled her nose when she saw it. Of course he had been drinking. She would have to knock that out of him.
She stepped forward with the intention of chucking the bottle out of the now open window, but barely got two steps before she felt the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of her head.
She froze with one foot in the air. She hadn't noticed him earlier, but that was his job after all. Or something like that. He stood close behind her, just within range to raise the hairs on the back of her neck. He said nothing. He was clearly waiting for her to make the next move.
"Are you going to shoot your own sister, Floyd? I thought we were closer than that." The gun was immediately removed, and he reached over her shoulder and spun her around in one swift movement.
"Violet?" he said as he took in her battered form.
"The one and only," she said, grinning weakly. She hadn't seen her brother in three years. He had changed drastically since then. He had grown taller, almost reaching six feet, and his hair had gotten shaggy, but the thing that startled Violet the most was the eyepatch that covered his right eye.
"Vi…what are you doing here? Why aren't you back in Nebraska? And how the hell did you find me?"
"Well, finding you was actually really hard now that you mention it," she said. She pulled away from him and walked over to the fridge. She opened it up and started sorting through the mold-covered food until she managed to find an edible piece of pizza buried in the back. "It was really inconvenient," she continued. "I had to completely wipe out my bank account just to figure out what state you were in. Finding out the rest required a variety of favors. I think I might actually be a felon now."
"Quit avoiding my first two questions Vi. Why are you here? Where are mom and dad?"
Violet stilled for a moment before looking down at her feet. "Mom and Dad aren't exactly in the picture anymore. You're all I got left, Floyd."
Violet's confession left him reeling. His parents were dead or gone and he didn't even know about it. Who had been taking care of his little sister? She was only seventeen.
"I see," he finally said. "You'll just have to stay with me then." That threw a wrench in his plans. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Violet, but he would have to figure out what to do with her. He could hardly take her on assignments with him. No, that was way too dangerous. He could figure that out later though.
She had already eaten the last of his food, but she looked exhausted. "Are you sure?" she murmured. She had come in the hope that that was what he would say, but now that he was actually saying it, she felt the need to not inconvenience him.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Where the hell else would you go anyways? The bedroom is three doors down on the right." He was gruff in the way he said it, but then again he was always gruff.
Violet turned to go, but before she got very far, she paused and turned back to Floyd. She held her hands loosely by her side in an awkward manner before launching herself at him. He returned the hug, feeling all the desperation and pain she poured into it.
When she finally untangled herself, she grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and made her way down the hall where she promptly fell in bed and into a deep slumber.
Floyd settled himself into the solitary chair he owned, and poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bottle sitting on the table. If he had a couch, he would have slept on that, but he did not have a couch, and the chair would serve him just fine. He let out a deep sigh and almost relaxed as the moon rose higher and higher in the sky.