Chapter One.
More to come as I continue to work out the kinks.
It had to stop. There was only so much that a person could take of the darkness and maliciousness of humanity. It affects you, gets into your pores and begins to weigh down your soul. You lose a piece of yourself every time you try to stop the darkness; fighting a war that can never be completely won. You pray for the day that you're no longer needed; the day when there is no more pain, no more suffering for you to prevent; the day when you can wake up without rubbing the nightmares from your eyes. You pray that there will be someone else to take your place, to bare the burden of prevention, but you know there cannot be. You wouldn't want another human being to lose their sole when you feel that yours is already gone.
Clara Banks. That was the name of his latest victim, the one they had finally nailed him on. She was 6 years old, backstage at her ballet recital when he took her. They found her body three days later. Three little girls whose lives were never given the chance to begin because of Fred Baxter, and the bastard was going to walk on a technicality. A form hadn't been filled out properly at the hospital and they had lost their case. It was as simple as that; a T wasn't crossed. He was staring at her now behind the protection of his lawyer. Glaring menacingly though the eye she had blackened when he grabbed her ass during interrogation. She wanted him dead, wanted vengeance for the families, for Clara, and for herself.
The gun strapped to her waist was suddenly heavy, as if making its presence known. He continued to stare, daring her, taunting her with his freedom. She could take him out. She knew it. She was a damn good shot and if his spineless, soulless defense attorney would lean back half an inch he might not get to much blood on the suit that cost more that her rent. Then again why bother, his hands were already dirty.
Her hand was on the holster before she knew what was happening, then just as suddenly Elliot's hand was over hers. He fixed her with a gaze that both said 'What the hell are you doing?' and 'I was planning it too.' She tried to push his hand away, but he wouldn't let go. His eyes started belaying more concern than understanding and Olivia couldn't understand why. If he would let go, she could kill this bastard and they could all go home. But Elliot wasn't letting go. Instead his fingers wrapped around her wrist and settled on her pulse point. His eyes grew wider, then he started to fade. He let go of her wrist and his hand quickly moved to the back of her neck, guiding her down. She felt the hard bench on her back. She thought about grabbing the gun again, but couldn't seem to remember how to move her arm.
Olivia was breathing heavily, she saw the light blur, and felt the room tilt. She heard Elliot yelling something about an ambulance, but he sounded far away. She was moving now, but her feet weren't on the ground. Elliot was yelling again. He sounded closer, but still muffled and she wondered what was wrong with him and why she wasn't yelling back. Then there was wind on her face and sirens. Elliot was somewhere she couldn't see. She was moving again then everything was dark and quiet.
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