Prologue
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI NY or Miami, but I do own the new characters and the plotline, as well as a crappy computer that takes so freaking long to boot up.
The room was bright as the family sat down to eat their dinner. Clouds rolled in hours before the plane landed and Miami's night was almost as dark as the girl's ebony hair. Her 2-year-old brother sat across from her, laughing delightedly. Her father had flown in and her mother and brother had taken the day off to pick him up at the Miami International Airport. Though divorced, her mother and father maintained an amicable relationship. When her parents separated, her mother had shifted the three of them to Miami.
The quiet 8, almost 9, year-old barely spoke outside or inside of the family. She and her friends kept contact through e-mail. She made no fuss when her mother announced a job transfer, but after she moved she remained a loner for the year they had been there, preferring to bury herself in her studies. Her IQ was well above average, she could have gone to college at 7, but she chose to remain in high school. Her brother was a spoiled brat, being the only boy in an Asian family, she wasn't surprised or jealous, nor did she mind, she liked being out of the spotlight. She ate slowly tonight, instead of finishing her dinner in her usual 5 minutes, enjoying the small family reunion. She spoke softly, "Daddy, I put your bag upstairs already. Will you be here tomorrow when I get off school?"
"Maybe, actually, most likely, why? Did you have somewhere you wanted to take me?" The Asian girl didn't answer, but the twinkle in her eyes told her father all he needed to know.
"Mommy, do I have to go to school tomorrow? I don't want to!" Her brother pouted, whining incessantly when his mother stood firm. She smiled; no matter how annoying he was he was still her little brother. Yeah, she could get a little overprotective of her family at times, but that was due to the fact that she was more the adult of the household than her parents were. She looked up at the clock hanging on the back wall of the kitchen; the minute hand was on 11 and the hour hand on 9. Picking up her empty bowl and placing it in the sink, she said goodnight and went up to her room to do a little more studying before she went to bed.
She opened the 2nd white, wooden door with an elegantly curved, silver lever for a doorknob, on the left side of the hall. She slipped into her room and shut the door behind her lightly. Her room had white walls, a twin size bed lined along the wall, facing the window. Her white desk sat underneath the window, a light pink comforter and bed sheets covered her bed, and her violin stood in a corner by her closet. The lights in the house flickered and then went out as thunder clapped and lightning lit up the night sky. In that small moment a shadow dashed past the living room window. Her father saw the malicious glint of a sharpened ax. He sprinted to the door and set the dead bolts, placing the closest chair under the knob. He turned to the girl's mother and shouted, "Take the kids and hide them!"
Aware of the sudden change in tension, the girl looked up from her history notes and, using her small cell phone as a flashlight, she stepped halfway into the hall. She saw her flustered mother ushering her frightened little brother into his room and instructing him to hide in his closet and be quiet. The young child could hear her father frantically shoving the furniture in front of the door even while the manic pounding continued to grow louder every passing minute. Her mom bounded out of her brother's room and steered her into her room quickly, shoving her into her color-coded closet with her backpack occupying a small corner. Her mother, crying and pale, closes the door, but not before saying, "Stay in here, no matter what happens don't come out!" She tried to hang onto her mother's hand; her mom gently pushed her back and closed the door. The light that had filtered in from the crack under the door disappeared.
She huddled in a corner in the dark, whispering, "No mommy, don't go, bring daddy and brother in here to hide." A loud boom rent the silence and her father's strangled yell echoed through the house. Heavy footsteps, a pause, a sickening crunch, and then silence. Her sensitive ears picked up a whimper and knew it was her brother, he was frightened and she couldn't do a darn thing. Her eyes widened in fear and worry when she heard the footsteps growing closer, an opening door, and crying, pleas of, "Help me, daddy," in Cantonese, "Save me, mommy," and lastly, "My sister won't let you go easily!"
"Don't touch my son! Please, don't hurt him!" Her mother's cries rang through the dark. Cackles. Crying cut off, an anguished cry, and running. Her door flung open and her mother tried to resist, fighting teeth and nails, she leaned forward to peer through the crack and bit down hard on her lip, a hand flew to her mouth and nose, smothering any sounds as she saw the blade slice her mother's collarbone diagonally. She saw the flesh split into two; she could make out the bone. Her mother was sobbing now, her right hand holding the wound.
The tears well up in the girl's eyes as she tries desperately to keep the tears at bay. The cell phone her mother got her is clutched tightly in her hand against her chest. She thought repeatedly to herself, 'No, not my mother too! I've already lost my dad and kid brother; please don't take my mom. Please!' Her silent pleas did nothing. As he lifted the ax she caught a small rose tattoo on the inside of his wrist, the sadistic grin on the man's face and his icy blue eyes, before he swiped the ax blade down across her mother's throat, blood gushed out onto the floor, the tears fell, slowly at first, then faster and more consistent. Her mother lay there, gasping for air, the monster laughed, he actually laughed. His laughter trailed after him, sending chills down the girl's spine until she heard the front door slam.
She jumped out of the closet and went to her mother's side. She lifted her mother's head and tilted her head back slightly. Her mother beckoned her to come closer, the girl leaned in closer, and her free hand gripped her mother's hand tightly, not wanting to let go. She could hear the gurgling blood and as she leaned in closer to her mother's beautiful, but white, face, her mother whispered, "Don't cry, silly girl. Always remember…"
"Mommy, what are you talking about, you're going to be okay," the girl insisted through her tears.
"… I love you." Her mother's hand went limp and her head lolled to the left; her chest was no longer even rising shallowly.
"No, mommy, please come back. Don't leave me," the girl whimpered, "You can't leave me. Bring daddy and brother back, please." In that instance, the young girl sounded so much like the broken-hearted 5-year-old she never had the chance to be. No reaction.
"NO!!!"