~Kellie's POV~

"Kellie, wake up." Sam said softly. I quietly ignored her demand, as if it were really a request. Not like a had any choice, however.

"Wake up!" she yelled, "We're going to be late for work. I'm not risking my job so you can sleep another hour." I groaned lightly, and pulled the sheets over my head. She grabbed my legs, and pulled me off the bed.

"Waah!" I yelled on impact. I glared evily up at my little sister. My adopted little sister, Samantha, had long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. She's only a couple months younger than I am, but we're still the same age, 14. She's kinda my kick-in-the-butt, and keeps me out of trouble. Damn goodie-two-shoes. But, I love her.

She's been the quite one ever since I've known her. She never really talks about her past. In fact, I'm the only one who really knows what actually happened to her. Her parents died in a tragic ship-fire. She was the only survivor. Well, her and one other.

The man that saved her.

She never knew what he looked like. He always wore a dark cloak. But she does remember his emerald green eyes. She came to trust him, and in return he saved her life.

Then he left her alone on the shore, the waves crashing into her. All he had left her was his black cloak, with an emerald leaf connecting it. She still has it to this day, but keeps it under her bed.

I, however, know nothing of my past. Ever since I was a baby I've been on my own. Silent, yet deadly. But my life really took a turn when I first met the interesting little blonde girl. She would try and stop me from getting into fights. And one time when a fight went to far, and I was down, she stepped in front, pushed me aside, and took a good beating. Ever since I witnessed her noble act to save me, I try to stay away from fights. Thing is, they're everywhere! The only thing that I can't shake from my memory (though, it is a bit hazy, and I don't know if it's true for sure) but I just have this sick feeling that my parents are dead.

"Jesus Christ, Samantha!" I yelled, "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Don't use my full name on me, young lady!" she snapped, "And, would I really go out of my way to kill you, with all the cops that circle this area?" I rolled my eyes and quickly but reluctantly got ready for work. I went to the bathroom and changed into a flat black shirt and black slacks. I'm the day-shift security at the museum that we work at. I look at the mirror, and my sky blue eyes starred coldly back at me. Unlike Sam, I have long brunette hair. I'm quite small for my age, which is why people underestimate my fighting ability.

Oh, boy are they wrong!

I walked back into the small, unfit-for-two, room to find Sam dressed in her uniform. A blue suit-skirt that goes to her knees a crisp white shirt and a blue tie.

Now, you're all probably wondering how a couple of kids got high-ranking jobs at a museum. It's because the man who owns the museum just happened to be our old psychiatrist.

We crept quietly down the stairs not wanting to awaken the devil in our lives. Our adoptive father, Mark. He's the town drunk, and brings home a new woman every night. He's abusive towards me physically, which I glad of, because I'd think I'd snap and murder the bastard if he hit Sam. He emotionally abuses Sam, which is hard after all she's been through. Sam, unlike me, knew her mother and father, and knew love once.

And pain, forever.

I just grew up rough. I stayed away from people, I felt no one could love someone like me.

Sam proved me wrong. Which is why I try and be good, and protect her.

Sam thinks I have it much easier in our situation.

"Cuts and bruises mend on there own," she once told me, "But once words are spoken, they haunt you forever."

Not that she pities herself in anyway, or that she thinks I don't have it rough either. That particular night, she just got back home from an extra shift, and he yelled and cussed her out. What really got to her was that on that night, he was sober. He knew damn well what he said.

The reason that Sam pities me every now and then, and what scares me the most, is sometimes I don't really feel like I exist.

I know we all get that feeling where we're invisible to the world. But my case is different.

Sam has some background to her story. I'm just here. I grew up with nothing to hold onto, and every moment was a struggle. Gangs, guns, motorcycles, fights, everything dangerous in this world. However, I have never consumed drugs or alcohol.

So anyway, we're walking on the white concrete sidewalk heading toward our job. When we got there, we went to our normal stations, just like any other day. I stood at the front door with the riot stick and taser at hand, and she went to give the kids a tour of the place (which brings me to a good point, what kid in their right mind would freely choose to come here? I've never understood that.)

Although, I just so happen to love this place. It's like a safe haven for us, and it happens to be about my most favorite subject in the world.

Mythology.

My favorite exhibit in this museum is 'The Legend of Zelda.' Which is about a boy who traveled in time to save the princess of Hyrule. And it has a bunch of cool shit in it to, like the sword he used, the Ocarina, the princesses tiara (with a missing jewel, might I add.) I know everything about this story. It fascinates me every time I read the story (16 times, for the record.)

But somewhere in the middle of the book, it just stops. From then on, it's all just blank pages.

However, I wasn't even suppose to read the book. It was an artifact in the exhibit, but that's what's cool about being a security guard. You get the keys to everything.

After the day was over, Sam met me at the front, and we headed back home in the mist of twilight. I opened the door to our apartment.

~Sam's POV~

Kellie open the door to our apartment, and we crept in to the horror.

Mark had awoken.

"Little fuckers, where the hell have you been? Where the hell is my God damn food! Can't fucking do anything right!"

Kellie's eyes widened. She would usually put food on the table on our way to work, so after he was done drinking and whoring around, he had a satisfying meal. He at least had a good taste in food, gotta hand that to him at least.

Kellie's hand shot in front of me, pushing me towards the hall while she quietly muttered,

"Get out of here, Sam." I left, and locked the bedroom door, but kept the windows open. It was routine. Either she could climb in after he beat her, or I could climb out in case of emergency. Then I pulled out the first aid kit and the sledge hammer. When Kellie came, I bandaged her up. But the sledge hammer was in case Mark decided to climb through the window.

I'm not afraid to bash his head in. In fact, I'm not afraid to fight either. But Kellie is better at it, and has the nerve to do it (which I don't) and she would be pissed at me if I even tried to throw a punch.

Suddenly, my blood ran cold as I heard a blood curling scream from the kitchen. Kellie's scream. Kellie never screamed, no matter how bad she was beaten. So, for once, I decided to not follow the rules, and I ran out to see the commotion.

My eyes widened as I emerged into a bloody scene.

Kellie was up against the pale white wall, her blood dripping from her side. Her black, uniform pants were stained from the iron blood which flooded from her injury on her hip.

Mark had a knife.

As he advanced towards Kellie, I searched desperately for a weapon to fight him off with.

A knife, laying lazily on the table, seemed to be calling my name.

I took it, and stabbed him in the back, more towards the left side. Blood splattered on my uniform and on my skin, but I pressed the knife deeper within him.

He turned sharply on me, cutting my cheek with his knife, splattering my own blood on his face.

There was only one time I saw murder in Kellie's eyes. Was the one time when a gun was pulled on us in one of the crazy fights she got herself into. Once that ice creeps into her eyes, there is nothing in my power I could do to stop her murderous intentions.

She grabbed the vase to her left, and smashed it into his face, cutting it terribly and gorey. He fell to the floor in agony, and Kellie pressed his boot on his chest. And grabbed his knife. She held it above her head, preparing to strike, calling out,

"Die, you sorry son of a bitch!"

I lunged forward, grabbing her wrist with the knife. Her hand twisted sharply and cut lightly into the skin of my wrist. She panicked, but I didn't mind. I'd do anything just to make sure she didn't turn into a cold-blood killer. She kicked him in the head to knock him out, silently muttering "Sorry."

And we left.


(A/N) Hello, everyone. This is my first Legend of Zelda story, which was inspired by one of my greatest friends, Samantha Daniels. And, she is a published author of the novel "My Father's Killer" (only available on eBooks :( ) but if you like this story, please check out her novel! This story means a lot to me as an author, because as small children (REALLY small children) we use to pretend and play this story as if it were our real life. Now we want to share it woth the world. (And I know that my other story was inspired by me and my other friend) but one of the main characters in both of my stories is my real name, but she is different from myself to make it more readable and more interesting (not to say that I'm not cool in person, hehe.) SO DON'T JUDGE ME! and please review, it will motivate me :D