St. Hassan Hospital Room 237 7:43 AM 2/2/15

I woke up in a bright white hospital room. There was a man sitting in one of the chairs, sleeping. From what I can tell from the angle of his head, he had blonde hair, and abnormally bushy eyebrows. I looked at his clothing and realized that he was an officer, probably one of the few who found me outside the station. I squinted my eyes at the name on his shirt, KIRKLAND it said in large capital letters. I just sat there, then another man came walking in, with two cups, coffee most likely.

"Oh look who woke up. Hey! Kirkland, get up." The platinum blonde officer kicked the sleeping man's chair. He immediately jumped up, and looked at him and shouted,

"What the bloody hell Beilschmidt!" British. The other officer, now identified as Beilschmidt, handed Kirkland the other cup in his hand.

"Thanks." He took a sip and looked over at me.

"Oh, hello. Please excuse that little outburst. Officer Arthur Kirkland and Ludwig Beilschmidt. We both found you outside the station along with two other officers Wang and Honda. Your attacker has been apprehended and is in custody. His name is Eduard Von Bock and is a part of another man named Ivan Braginski's mafia. They deal in all sorts of illegal activity, prostitution, kidnapping people and holding them for ransom or worse, but more recently loaning money to people and killing them once Braginski gets impatient. Like you might have seen a few nights ago." He slid a photo of the man that saw killed in front of me. He looked so happy, and so alive.

"His name was Feliciano Vargas, from and Italian born family, that moved to America in 1998 when he was 6. Worked two jobs, as a busboy at Buona Cucina and as a janitor at the local high school. He was 23." He was only a year older than me, he was so young.

"We found in that alley outside your workplace this morning, someone called it in." He reached inside his folder, looking for something, probably the picture of him dead.

"I don't want to see it." I said. I don't want to see the poor fellow dead, not up close. I want to look at the picture of him alive and well, and happy. I want to remember his face like that. Not with the cold, grazed over look in his eyes.

"That is okay. You don't have to-" But Arthur was cut off.

"He had a stab wound through the underarm to the heart, and if that wouldn't have done him in, the blood caught in his esophagus would have. Would you mind telling us what happened now?"

"Sure."

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22nd Street Precinct 8:27 AM

I was taken to the precinct where I told what happened to the two officers, but all of a sudden, another officer came bursting into the room,

"Suspect escaped! Kariotta's dead!"

'No, he couldn't have.'

"Shit! Come on sweetheart, you're going under witness protection effective immediately." Ludwig grabbed my arm and put me in his police car, and got in the driver's seat, and Kirkland got in the passenger seat.

"What do you mean I have to go under witness protection? He doesn't know me, or my name."

"Trust me, a face is all you need these days, especially for these guys, they can find you." Kirkland said, looking back at me.

"But this means that I have to leave, and live under another name, and face."

"It's either that or your life, sweetheart. And I think living under a different identity won't be so bad since, you'll be alive." Ludwig bluntly stated.

"I call them and let them know that we're coming."

"Wait, where are we going?"

"The US Department of Justice."

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The Department of Justice Floor 3 9:19 AM

"Elizaveta Héderváry at your service, and your name is?" A woman with brown hair in a bun and deep green eyes asked.

'Well, soon to be formerly known as...'

"(Name) (Last Name)."

"Thank you officers, I'll take it from here." I looked back and waved at them, and Arthur slipped a piece of paper in my hand. I quickly put it in my pocket.

"Well, (Name), your new name is going to be given to you by US Marshal Lukas Bondevik. But you're going to be placed with the Jones family in rural Kansas. Mr. and agreed to take you in and have been notified of your situation and are willing to accept anything that comes along with it, though I doubt that anyone would find you there. No one else can know but them." A man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, came to a stop in front of me,

"Lukas Bondevik, your new name will be Jane Emilia Jones, distant cousin who studied abroad in England We're going to have to give you (Different e/c) contacts, and give you a new cut. Let's get you processed."

"Wait but can I call somebody?"

"Go right ahead but don't give away any specific details." I dialed the number to the apartment.

"Hello?"

"(Roommate Name), I'm not coming home any time soon."

"Why?"

"I just can't, it's not safe. That guy is a part of a mafia, (Roommate Name)."

"Oh."

"Goodbye, Love you."

"Love you more. Goodbye."

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As I sat in front of a mirror, I didn't even recognize myself, now I had (Different Length), (Different h/c) hair (thank you wigs), and (Different e/c) eyes (thank you contacts). Makeup around my face gave it completely different shape (thank you contouring). A man in a black suit with shades came in and said,

"Your transportation is here, follow me." I was brought to a dusty looking red truck, an older man inside, said,

"Well look at you! Come on then, time for you to come on home with me!" That must be Mr. Jones, he had dirty blonde hair, and deep blue eyes. I waved and smiled. I took the two duffels full of clothes that were given to me, and put them in the bed of the truck. I got in the passenger seat, and was immediately grabbed into a hug.

"It's so nice to meet you darlin'. What do I call you now?" I preferred Emily over Jane so I said,

"Emily, your niece. Studied abroad in England. Staying with you for reasons unknown."

"Well that'll explain why you don't have the Jones accent." I nodded.

"Let's get over there, got a 5 hour drive over to the airport."

"If you live so far away, why wouldn't you let them fly me over there?"

"Couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet my niece now could I?" He said as he started the car.

'Goodbye (Name) (Last Name).'