My name is Tia Brown and I'm twelve years old. I am vertically challenged, barely reaching 4'2, with waist-length brown hair with dyed blond highlights. I've been told my hair colour choice compliments my sea green eyes and paired with my porcelain skin, I can turn some heads.
If people took a closer look at my supposedly flawless skin, they would see the various scars marring the surface, especially around my face. I live in Las Vegas with my daddy Warrick Brown and I am the biggest daddy's girl ever. Today he has no work (he's a CSI) and has planned a father-daughter outing. I also have ADD.
I walk into the living room to find Daddy getting ready for the day.
"Tia, we're going to have breakfast with the team, okay baby girl?" Daddy says.
"Yes Daddy. Is Nicky going be there?" I inquired Nick Stokes, my dad's best friend. He's like a second father to me.
"Yes he is," he says, grinning back at me.
I walk outside to the car and he helps me into car. I sit in the back seat as he drives the car to a diner call Frank's. Daddy then parks the car he gets out the car. He helps me out, picks me up and carries me inside.
"Hey guys," Daddy says to the team. They're made up of Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, and Jim Brass.
"Hi," I say as my dad sets me down. I run into Nicky and hug him tightly.
"Hi baby girl," Nicky laughs, hugging me back.
Dad and I sit down with the team, him on the right of me and Nick to the left. We chat until a pretty blond-haired waitress comes over, asking our orders. I order French toast and bacon with tea and orange juice for drinks.
After we eat breakfast, Dad called me over.
"Tia, I have surprise for you," he says with a smile.
"What is it?" I ask eagerly, wondering if it was a new phone or something cool.
"Today I'm taking you over to the animal shelter to get a puppy," he replies.
"Really? Thanks so much dad," I exclaim as I give him a big hug.
We drive to the animal shelter near our home in Nevada, ten minutes from Las Vegas Strip, and daddy let me to pick a puppy to take home.
I took a while, until I finally picked Rocky, a little one month old girl part pit-bull and part husky who reminded me of a pure white, baby wolf, was the one I chose and named.
That was the highlight of my day. You could say everything went downhill from there.
*(*)*
It was towards the end of the day when my father and I walked back to the car. Rocky was sporting a new collar and was sleeping peacefully in her small cage, waiting to get home and mark her territory. We were only yards away from the car when a man appeared before us, cutting us off from our only escape route.
"Hello Warrick," the man said calmly to my father with a malicious smirk on his face.
"McKeen," my father responded to the strange man in a clipped tone. He angled his body so I was barely in the man's eyesight.
McKeen's eyes slowly turned to me and his smirk widened.
"Hello, Tia. Who's your little friend?" he questioned, referring to Rocky. "Did your daddy buy you a new puppy?"
Slowly, I nodded as he moved closer until he was barely a foot from us. "Lucky girl!" He was beaming as he spoke to me but I could sense something was wrong; the look in his eyes was harsh and it was beginning to frighten me. It seemed as though he was looking through me, and I hated the feeling.
"What do you need, McKeen?" my father asked through clenched teeth, drawing the strange man's attention away from me.
McKeen took a step back. His posture went rigid instantly and his knuckles turned white as he pulled a gun from his trench coat pocket. My grasp on Rocky's cage instantly tightened as I froze in terror.
"What are you doing?" my dad yelled in anguish as the man positioned the gun straight ahead, aimed at his forehead. Horror and realization flashed across my father's face as tried in vain to discretely pull me behind him so that McKeen would not notice.
"Don't act innocent, Warrick!" McKeen snarled, hysteria loud and clear in his tone of voice as he waved the gun around like a maniac. His eyes reflected a crazed gleam.
The only thing that crossed my mind was this was a horrible way for our lives to end.
"C'mon, Jeffery…you don't have to do this." I stood there, shell-shocked and confused at how calm and collected my father managed to stay. His hands were raised in a classic defensive position, showing McKeen that he was no threat. Unfortunately, McKeen was past the point of being reasonable and actually snorted in disbelief at my father's words as his body trembled in fury.
I knew it was a bad decision to speak when a crazed man was pointing a firearm at my father but I couldn't help it, I was terrified for him, for myself, for Rocky.
"Dad…" I called. My voice was barely above a whisper and I could feel the tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. I moved a few inches closer to him, searching for comfort. I wanted to close my eyes and wish that it was all a nightmare but I couldn't. I knew it was real.
"It's okay, Tia," he assured, turning slightly to look at me as a sign of comfort.
The moment the words left his lips a loud bang resonated through the area and pain erupted from my shoulder. A sharp cry left my lips as I fell to the ground ungracefully. I barely heard my father's screams as the pain clouded everything around me, lulling me into a state of numbness. The cage that I had been grasping like a lifeline had slipped from my hands, causing Rocky to yelp as she hit the ground.
I held my shoulder in pain, trying to make out what my father was telling McKeen, but all I could hear was McKeen's deranged rant.
"I had to! This is all on you! I had to! There's no one else to blame but yourself. I had no choice; she was in my way! Now there's only you!" Barely a second later, another gunshot rang out, followed by my father's screams of pain. I forced myself to sit up, only to see my father, lying on the ground. Motionless.
McKeen turned his beady, crazed gaze on me. Red-faced and nostrils flaring; he snarled and continued shouting, "he wouldn't let it go!"
He spoke as if he was trying to make himself believe that was the case but I could only stare at my father's body, sobs wracking my body. I lost my father, my best friend, my entire world. He was gone, just like that.
In that moment, I shut down, I didn't think. I launched my body at McKeen, reacting just out of anguish and anger. Before McKeen could react, I pounced; slashing and slicing him like whatever I had become. I felt long cuts across his body as he attempted to defend himself, but it was futile.
He got lucky; I couldn't disarm the gun from his grasp and was shot in the process, the bullet entering the same injured shoulder. I fell back in pain and he used the opportunity to run like the coward he was.
It was the first time I phased.
I phased back and began looking for any form of clothing to put on. I dragged my body to where my father's cold body laid. The mental image of him lying in a puddle of his own blood hurt more than any injury I had.
Pressing down on the gunshot wound on his chest, I tried in vain to help him, there was nothing I could do; he was already gone. No one was around, the street was deserted and I had no way to call for help.
"Daddy! No, please don't go!" I sobbed, "I need you! Daddy, please!" I gently laid my head on his chest, allowing the tears to flow down my face. My body started to grow weak and my eyes started to close against my will. Just as I was passing out I heard a familiar voice.
"Warrick! Tia!" The voice was so familiar but I couldn't put my finger on who is was. Not that it really mattered anymore.
"Get the paramedics!" someone shouted.
It tried to keep awake, but the pain on my shoulder spread through my whole arm like a wildfire.
Then everything faded into dimness.
Joshua Uley P.O.V.
"Hello?" I muttered into the phone after it rang three times., hoping this would be a quick call.
"Hello, I'm looking for a Joshua Uley?" the man on the phone asked.
"Yes, and who is this?"
"My name is Captain Jim Brass, I'm a homicide detective for the Las Vegas Police Department." I try to care. "I'm sorry to say this but I have some bad news." He cleared his throat. "Sir, I'm sorry to tell you this but your son, Warrick Brown…has been…killed."
"What?" I said acting like I am in shock.
"Yes, will your granddaughter will be living with you from now on?"
"Yes, of course she'll be living with me," I huff, irritated. I had to resist the temptation to hang up.
"And how old is she," I ask.
"She's twelve. Are you able to come down here?" His voice was weary and tired.
"Yes, of course I will, I'll be down in a week."
He then gave me his number, which I half-heartedly copied down. I hung up the phone before heading into the kitchen for a stiff, hard drink.
Oh great, I have to take care of a freaking twelve-year-old.
*(*)*
AN: Hello! Another fic, and my beta Silver's Fangs edited this for me please read and review