A/N: Yay! You clicked on my story! Okay, so this is just a HitsuKarin story that's a little serious and I'm not quite sure if it will stay that way because I haven't really thought through the plot or anything. This is my first fic and I thought it up one day when I was at the lunch table talking to my friends having one of those weird conversations you ALWAYS have during lunch period -don't even try to lie you KNOW you have 'em ;). It's rated M more mature ideas I guess, and just to be safe. Might be more cursing later on in the story, but it's not definite. Done with my drabbling and enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. T_T

'Kariiiiin!' Rangiku sang, 'You have a customer! And he looks quite dashing too.' She stage whispered the last part and giggled. Maybe she was trying to lift my spirits? Or perhaps she was joking. Well, if she was trying to make me more enthusiastic, it definitely wasn't working. Actually, it was doing the exact opposite.

'What are the stats?' I asked automatically.

'You know, it wouldn't hurt to be a little more enthusiastic.' She grumbled.

'Stats. Now.' The side of my mouth twitched downward. 'Pleeeasse.'

'Fine.' She said pouting. 'Race: Caucasian, Name: John Handel, Blood Type: O+, Age:' She hesitated, '32.'

I frowned; disappointed that an older man would request a girl right out of high school. How pathetic. Grimacing, I slowly stood up tearing my buttocks from the spot where it had been securely rooted and listened to the creak of my knees as they weakly protested the pressure on my joints. This was the first of the day and he had set a new record. 7:26 AM. Grumbling, I trudged over to my designated area and glared down at the now familiar objects. A stout tube of ruby red lipstick, a plastic case of bright, powdery shadows, shiny metal brushes with hundreds of feathery hairs at the end. Half a year ago, if you had given me an eyeliner pencil and some base powder I wouldn't have had a clue what to do. But now, since this is my job, I have no choice but to know exactly what they are and precisely where and how to apply them.

Why Karin, you may ask, why have you entered the styling business if you detest these tools of torture? Very good question, my friend, but this is where you have it all wrong. I am no stylist or even a make-up artist. That would be much too pleasant of a job. The occupation I have been cursed with is detestable, unforgivable and I hate it. If a choice were given to me I would absolutely 100% quit. But then again, I have no choice. Yes, you heard me right. If I could, I would be a professional athlete, but when I got out of high school, my grades weren't good enough to get a scholarship and I'd already told my dad college wasn't very important to me (plus, we didn't have enough money in the first place because my brother was in his last year of college already and we had to take care of Yuzu's expenses) so I went out into the world to find a job. After a few phone calls and a couple of pulled strings I was able to get a job here at the Hotel de Bella. It began innocently enough with me working as a cleaning lady, getting paid less than minimum wage and receiving tips from the more-than-generous visitors, but one day, there was an unknown private exchange going on in one of the rooms I was assigned to clean and unfortunately I walked in on it. This business is highly confidential and to think the hotel chairman doesn't know about it blows my mind, but once you know about IT you can't back out.

Meanwhile, I begin preparing myself for the customer awaiting me. This preparation includes applying five pounds of make-up to my face, waltzing out in an extremely short cocktail dress, and all the while balancing on five inch stiletto high heels. It's practically a circus act. Us hosts (which is the preferred title) are also supposed to be the perfect picture of poise and etiquette, but that seems nearly impossible when the weight of our faces are threatening to crumble, fall off, and tip us completely over. Eventually, after remodeling my face, I was confident enough to stand up and cross the floor while dangerously balancing on my heels. After the long and arduous trek I sat down with a plop at the table with my client sitting directly across from me.

Thank you for making the seats padded. I silently prayed, thanking whichever textile factory the plushy cushions had come from.

Knowing that I had neglected my client long enough, I unwillingly dragged my tired eyes away from my folded hands and to the man in front of me. At first glance, his appearance was of a typical business man, but when you looked behind his thin, wire-rimmed glasses and into his eyes you could see they were glazed over with certain eagerness or maybe something else completely.

Hmmm. Weird. But that's nothing new with the numerous amounts of sketch-balls waltzing in here every day. I thought.

He was of a lean build and his head was perched atop broad shoulders. He seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties (like Rangiku said) with a nose that looked like it had seen better days, but the most interesting thing about his face was the eyes. They say you can see who someone truly is through their eyes and this man was no exception. Looking even deeper than before, I could sense something startling which smoldered like the cinders of a fire. A terrible loathing was present deep in his eyes and I didn't know what to make of it.

Hmmm.. self loathing? He probably feels bad for cheating on his girlfriend or something. I dismissed the thought with a flourish. That was the first of my mistakes. After studying him further and finding nothing except for the weird self-loathing aura, I decided to rehearse my well practiced lines.

'Hello and welcome to the Hotel de Bella. I am pleased to be your hostess this beautiful morning. Is there anything you would like to eat or drink?' I smiled while gritting my teeth mentally. Every time I said that line, I detested who I was and what I was doing more and more.

'No thank you, but I would appreciate it if we would just get down to business.' His voice was an unpleasantly eager.

Ah, so he's the desperate type. I thought sourly.

A fake smile. 'Yes, of course, whatever pleases you, Mr. Handel.' Rangiku had told me his name before I had gone to the dressing rooms.

'Now don't go around forgetting your valuable customer's name. You would definitely pay for that out of your pay check.' She smiled broadly, proud of herself for making a joke out of such a grim situation.

'So Mr. Handel, would you like to supply me with any information that would help us delve even further into our relationship?' I hate that line. It's so cheesy and a little suggestive while still having a business-y undertone. Yeah, I don't understand either.

'How about I make it a surprise until we get to our room?'I noticed he was suppressing… something.

'Whatever pleases you pleases me, Mr. Handel.' After I had left him alone at the table, I threw up a little in my mouth.

I could see something in his eyes. Need? Greed? No, no, no… Hunger. The little hairs on the back of my neck prickled and I could tell something was up. You'll be fine, Karin. Just relax. You've had much creepier clients.

I walked back as gracefully as I could with a room key in hand and beckoned him with one finger. He grinned while I attempted to seductively smile back.

Small talk on the elevator was nearly impossible due to his short, nondescript answers and so I gave up. He seemed preoccupied with something and kept sliding his slimy gaze toward me with something like distaste in his eyes that made me a little wary. I shifted uncomfortably in my heels as I peered down at the small village below. Through the nearly translucent glass of the elevator I could make out the small ripples in the water of a fountain and could see the fluttering hands of panicking employees from the cozy shops serving breakfast. They hastily set the cast iron tables with silver wear for the customers who would visit the café later that day. I closed my eyes and imagined being one of them. Hurrying around and only caring about how many napkins would have to be rolled by 8 o'clo-

Ding! I jumped, startled out of my reverie and sighed heavily. The elevator made another urgent sound signaling for us to get out. Unsteadily, I stepped onto the 27th floor platform with my massive, looming shadow following uncomfortably close. So close I could hear his breathing speed up. The metallic doors shut behind us with a soft pft and we started off towards the room.

This floor was decorated like every other one I'd been on. Lavish with real gas lamps outside of every doorway, plush hand sewn red carpet beneath your feet with vines twisting this way and that and lilies that you could practically smell. The ceilings were decorated with clouds and scantily clad baby cherubs. Each doorway had a painfully exquisite entryway complete with twenty four karat gold door handles.

Unbelievable and absurd. Who could possibly think of something this unnecessary? All a person needs in a hotel are the necessities. But then again, I suppose these ARE the necessities of the insanely-rich.

My inner criticism raved on as we neared the room and due to this I didn't notice Mr. Handel's suspicious and somewhat dangerous aura until I had unlocked the room. I'm definitely a person to go by my gut, and my gut was screaming at me to RUN! and Something terrible is about to happen! But that was my second mistake. I ignored my gut. A cold sweat formed on my upper lip as I pushed the lever on the handle down fully and started to tentatively open the door, but by then he was on me.

'Wh-what?' I yelped. He pressed his hand roughly over my mouth and picked me up not-too-gently, pinning both of my ragdoll arms against my chest with his calloused left hand. He grappled with the hand attached to the handle, prying it off, and jerked the door open violently.

'SHUT UP!' He whispered furiously. His hot breath was uncomfortable perspiration on my ear and suddenly I realized his intentions. This had nothing to do with the services we had to provide or even this guy's weird fetishes. The freak was cold blooded and I had swiftly dismissed the strange vibe and the clenching of my gut as if he were just a normal customer. Just this once I had slipped and the realization came crashing down on me. Panicking, I started to thrash, but his hold was like iron and one of his hands was crushing my windpipe.

After he had successfully gotten me through the narrow hallway and into the space where the sleeping quarters were, he threw me onto one of the beds with a power I wouldn't have guessed he possessed and I felt my head crack against the cold, metallic headboard. I gasped for air as dark spots swam into my vision and I heard blood rushing in my ears. Dazed, I struggled with the bed sheets which had somehow hopelessly entangled my feet and ankles and in an instant (in the midst of my flailing), he pulled some circular metallic objects out of his coat pocket and attached me to the bed with them. My head was fuzzy and thinking straight was futile, but impossible. I limply tried to pull my wrist down, but it would only give every two or three inches. Again, I panicked, but he was on top of me pinning me down with his weight. I tried to yell for help, but all that came out of my raw, ragged throat was a moan of desperation.

No. NO. NO! I gathered up the remaining feeble strength I had and kneed him in the gut. He grunted in pain, but didn't budge. I felt the air ripping through my throat as I yelled for help at the top of my lungs.

'HELP! SOMEBODY! THIS BASTARD'S TRYIN' TO R-'

'I told you to SHUT. UP!' His smoldering eyes burst into flame as he hit me with the back of his hand. My head snapped to the side and I felt the sting on my cheek as the black dots in front of my eyes grew even denser. Dizzy and with rubbery limbs, I struggled fruitlessly as he grabbed both of my already restrained wrists with one of his calloused hands and fisted me in my right eye. Fireworks obscured what was left of my vision and I could feel my eyes straining to keep focus.

No no no. No please. This can't be happening. It can't. Not right now. Not to me. I moaned feebly trying to keep my eyes open, but the black, the ebbing display of colors and the desire to make the attacker's face disappear was so strong that I finally let go and let the darkness take me and so I fell. Fell far and hard until I didn't know if the pit I was falling in was my mind or a completely different universe. Stars and sparks and objects that I couldn't make sense of rushed by me at the speed of light. Then suddenly, it stopped. I felt like I was floating now instead of falling. I felt complete peace and comfort. A very odd, alien feeling.

This is so nice. I sighed contently and stayed suspended for who knows how long. Time was a distant memory and thinking was unneeded. But then I heard something. A whisper that my ears almost couldn't detect. I dismissed it, but then a short time later it came to me again a bit louder this time. I shuttered. It was an awful noise that I recognized after a few minutes of it escalating to a dull roar. A man's voice. It was smooth, but it sounded angry. I was upset it had disturbed my peaceful slumber, but was not as disturbed as when another voice joined the agitated one, then another voice cut through my abyss and another and another.

What the..? My body felt as if it were being sucked upward. In the distance, I could see a reddish glow approaching. It came closer and closer until there was nothing else I could see, but the red light. Now, I wasn't floating anymore, but on a plush surface with the force of gravity pushing down on my ribs and windpipe. I could feel a rough fabric on my calf, on my lower back, on my heel. I could feel my wrists against something restricting and a slight air current danced across the little hairs of my face. Then I realized that the red glow wasn't a light, but the inside of my eyelid with delicate pink veins interrupting the solid color. I tried to open my closed eyes, but they felt as if they had been sewn shut. I attempted at moving a pinky finger, but I felt as if I were a marionette with a cut string.

Okay. That's enough. This time around, I attempted moving my left big toe. Nothing happened. Frustrated, I crinkled my brow, but that didn't work out either.

Alright enough is enough. Time to get UP! My eyes fluttered open and what I saw made me let out a little gasp of surprise. A dilated pupil in the middle of a dark blue iris stared right back at me unblinking and, obviously, startled also. Then, it was the eye's owner to make a surprised sound.

'Ah! Ha.. umm, it-a.' It stuttered. It was a male.

'What is it Hantarou?' drawled a voice which was of the same gender.

'She's… er, eh, well sir-'

'Just spit it out!' the second voice hissed impatiently.

'Well, sir, it um, seems, sir, as if she's… alive… sir.'

Soooo… What'd ya think? Awesome? Not worth finishing? I know the characters are super OCC, but please bear with me, or give me advice. Yes? REVIEW PLEASE. :3 Oh yeah! Next chapie, HITSU MAKES HIS ENTRANCE! :D Are you excited? I know I am. :D