KalaniKaloni: Hey everybody! waves This is my first Cold Case fanfiction, I hope you like it! Please review using that clicky-button marked "reviews"! Believe it or not, flames are accepted! I like all kinds of feedback on my stories, not just positive ones. I believe they help me improve.
Lilly: And now, a word from our author.
KalaniKaloni: Ah, I don't want to type this! No! No! NO! fingers start to type uncontrollably
Disclaimers: I do not own Cold Case nor any of its characters. They belong to people who have more than ten bucks stowed away in their dresser drawer, unlike some people. (KalaniKaloni sweatdrops) So basically if you recognize them, I don't own them. Also, the song Behind Blue Eyes belongs to The Who.
KalaniKaloni: Might as well start now...
June 13, 1997
"So how was your day?" This cheerful remark is uttered by a woman in her late 30s, short and a little overweight, with brown eyes and mousy brown hair. A gold heart-shaped locket hangs from around her neck. She had been washing dishes at the sink but stops as she turns to face her husband. He is tall in contrast to her shortness, has short black hair and vivid green eyes. These same emerald orbs now seem to be burning with an unknown fire as he snarls at his wife. The cheerfulness is gone now, and she wimpers with terror.
"I think you forgot something!" He spits in her face. "WHAT do you call me!" The woman moans and falls at her husband's feet, blubbering. He kicks her in the face, hard. "HONEY! THAT'S what you call me! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!" He kicks her again, this time in the side.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry...honey." She moans as she writhes about on the floor.
Watching this whole scene from the kitchen counter across the room, is a little girl. She is maybe six or seven, has stringy blond hair that is beginning to darken, and blue eyes. A navy-blue newsboy hat perches atop her head while she skillfully spoons macaroni and cheese into her mouth. Her eyes hold a look of disgust that seems to be mainly concentrated on the woman. The man she hardly looks at, even as he begins to repeatedly land blows on his wife with his sinewy fists. Finally he stops and storms out of the house. The girl doesn't even watch him; her gaze is still on the woman.
Later
The woman lies dead, her body brutally cut by what looks like a large knife. The girl is standing a few feet away, said knife clasped in one bloody hand, the gold locket in the other. Lights flash through the window as a policecar swings into the driveway. The driver of said car barges in through the back door only moments later. Behind him is the dead woman's husband. The little girl whips about, her eyes growing wide with terror. She bolts from the house, still holding the knife and locket. The cap flies from her head and rests next to the body, forgotten.