Er. Mah. Gerd. I haven't updated this in literally over a month. I'M SORRY OK. First I had band tour, then drama (as in theater drama) started, and I had a ton of school work... essentially, no time to write. But I have a little more time now, so I'll try to update this a bit more frequently this time. I only have a few more chapters of this story to write before I'll wrap it up, so I hope you've liked it so far. c:
Anyways, review replies! c:
LittleGirlBigImagination ~ Thank you so much, Kalina! I'm glad you like it. c:
mozzi-girl ~ Thanks, Molleh! :D
ZeDancingHobbit ~ Thanks for the review, Suzy! c:
NiekaWow ~ Thank you, Nieka! I'm glad you're liking it so far. C:
Guest (Annie) ~ Thank you for reading and reviewing! I hope you continue to like it.
HopelessRomantic1994 ~ Thanks for the review, Jade! Couldn't quite meet the 'update soon', but here it is now! xD Thanks again!
Things In Ink ~ Thank you so much for the nice/thoughtful review! Yes, I love funny Mal. c: I didn't want to make it all sad, just because the title is called 'Beginning Again', which implies hopefulness. But I didn't want to make it all happy/cheery, either, because nobody ever fully gets over losing a kid. Thanks again, Rose! You're awesome!
The Beautiful Filth ~ Thank you, Christie! I kind of decided no on the TA-ing, because my class load is so heavy and I don't really have time. I'd love to, but I just don't have time. XD Unusual combination, though clinical psychology might be interesting. Thanks again for the review; your reviews honestly make my day!
FeliciaTheGoat ~ Hi, Essy! Thank you so much for the nice comments, and welcome to Fanfiction! [: Thanks again!
Also, not to spoil the story (though I think most of you have figured it out already), but I should warn you now: this chapter could be potentially triggering, as it deals with domestic/child abuse. Read at your own risk.
Once again, thank you all so much for so many nice reviews; you're all wonderful! I hope you enjoy the chapter, though I will warn you, it's a bit sad.
Chapter Ten - Enough
"Done," I announced as I finished my last stack of paper work, tiredly sighing as I dropped my pen on my desk. "And may I remind you," I continued to Mal, "That I finished before you."
"Slow and steady wins the race," Mal stated with a smile. I stood up, walked over to his desk, and leaned against his chair.
"Usually," I said with a sly smile, "Except for the fact that it's two-thousand-thirteen, not twenty-thousand-thirteen."
Mal quickly looked down at the paper he'd just signed and dated. Next to his barely-legible signature, his some-what sloppy handwriting read '20013' instead of '2013'.
"Ah, crap," he muttered, looking around for something to fix it with.
"Oh, and you spelt my name wrong. I'll try not to be offended," I added jokingly.
"Wait, what?" he exclaimed, looking down at the paper again. Sure enough, the line for 'assigned partner' was filled with my incorrectly-spelt name: 'Natarara Fallon'.
"Ugh, dammit," he grumbled. "Sorry, I'm tired."
I laughed. "It's fine, Mal, I'm just giving you crap. But you should probably fix that before handing it in," I added.
He laughed. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered with feigned annoyance. Mal opened one of his desk drawers in search of white-out, while I stood watching with an amused expression on my face.
"How professional," I commented sarcastically as he lightly brushed over my name with the white-out.
"Shut up," Mal muttered, pretending to be agitated and failing miserably. He gave up and smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back.
A few minutes later, Mal finished re-writing my name over the dried white-out, adding it to the stack he had already finished. We both walked our paper work to Anders' office, and were about to exit the door to his office, when he stopped us.
"Mal, Natara," he called. We both turned around.
"Yes, sir?" Mal asked.
"I know it's getting kind of late," he began, glancing at the clock. "But would you mind checking something out before you retire for the night? There were reported gun shots from a house in your neighborhood. I'd have someone else do it, but I thought you two might want to check it out, seeing as it's in your neighborhood and all."
I exchange a concerned glance with Mal. "Of course we'll check it out," I answered immediately.
"Alright, good. Here's the address," Anders said, handing us a post-it note.
I should have recognized the address right off the bat, but for whatever reason, it didn't register right away.
"Thank you, sir," Mal said. "We'll be on our way."
"It might turn out to be nothing, but either way, give me a call," he commanded.
"Of course, sir," I said respectfully. "Thank you."
"Sure. If all goes well, I'll see you two tomorrow."
We exited Anders' office and walked out of the precinct, emerging into the cool night air. It felt good, considering the precinct was excessively warm today. I was still worried, though, as the apparent gun shots had been heard less than a mile away from our house.
"Let's get to that address," Mal said quickly. "It might be nothing, but I'd like to make sure. I'm sure your sister can handle Halia for a few extra minutes." I nodded, sliding in the passenger's seat and pulling the buckle over my shoulder. We drove in slightly-tensed silence until we reached our development. Mal drove slowly so we could see the house numbers in the dim lighting. We passed ours, then another house, and another house. We made a left at the next intersection, passed a couple more houses, and slowed to a stop outside a small, white house. It wasn't exactly run-down, but the sidings could've used a new paint job. I took one glance at the house and immediately recognized it.
"This is Amber's house," I murmured quietly. Mal looked over at me and nodded.
"Yeah, it is." Mal instinctively touched his holster, making sure his gun was there. I did the same, feeling a little safer somehow. Mal stepped in front of me and strode up the walk way, pausing at the door and knocking firmly several times. When no shuffling inside was heard and nobody answered after several seconds, he tried again, knocking louder that time. I thought I heard some scuffling around and a muffled shout, but still no answer at the door.
"This is the S.F.P.D.," he called out loud. "Gun shots have been reportedly heard from this house. We'd like to ensure that everyone is alright."
Several more seconds passed, and I began to get impatient. "Please open the door," I called, loud enough to be easily heard. "Or we'll have to force it open." When there was still no answer after several minutes of knocking and shouting, he tried the door handle. It was unlocked.
"Well," he commented quietly. "That was easier than expected." We both stepped inside, hands ready to draw our pistols if needed.
"S.F.P.D.," Mal called out again. "Please come out." I started to slowly look around, nearly blinded by the darkness in the room. I felt myself step on something wet. I pulled a small, bright-beamed flashlight from my belt and turned it on, shining it down towards the source of whatever I stepped on. What my flashlight illuminated was a large blood stain. From the disturbing feel of it under my shoe, it was fresh.
I was about to bend down to gain a closer look, when I heard a female scream followed by a loud crashing sound, like glass shattering against the floor. Mal and I exchanged a quick glance, then rushed towards the sound. We turned the corner around the small staircase, emerging into the living room. From the living room, we could see a woman, clearly completely wasted, staggering around in a rage. A man stood off to the side, silently watching. Through the dim lighting, I could also make out the form of a thin teenaged girl, backed up against a wall, trapped in a corner while the woman stomped around, screaming slurred words. The girl, presumably Amber, was crying loudly and shouting back every so often. The woman's back was to us, and from what I could tell, Amber hadn't seen us yet.
Mal grabbed my wrist and we ducked behind the couch. "Let's watch for a minute before we do anything. I'd like to see what's really going on here." I nodded in agreement, silently drawing my gun. Mal followed suit, making sure the weapon was loaded in case we needed it.
"Look what you've done!" the woman, whom I assumed to be Amber's mom, screamed, pointing drunkenly towards a pan of burnt-who-the-hell-knows-what on the counter. "I gave you one job, and you screwed it up!"
"I-I'm sorry," Amber said shakily, slowly trying to edge out of the corner.
"Sorry doesn't un-burn dinner," her mom spat back. "And what the hell," she started, picking up a piece of paper from the table, "Are these grades? Why the hell do you have a B-plus, dumbass?"
"It's one B-plus in AP Calc, mom, you know math is hard for me," Amber yelled back, voice strained. "The rest are A's. I tried my best," she added in a smaller, weaker voice.
"Well, obviously 'your best' isn't good enough!" she shouted back, throwing the paper to the ground. "Why can't you get good grades like your sister?"
"Mom!" she cried, voice desperate again. "Brooke is ten. Of course she gets all A's."
"Yeah, she's ten, but you're seventeen. Get it together, or you're grounded for a month."
"I'm sorry," Amber began again. "I just-"
"Shut up!" her mom snapped, slapping Amber across the face. My hand instinctively flew to my mouth, and I exchanged an alarmed look with Mal. His eyes were wide, and surprise followed by realization flashed in his eyes. That explains the bruises and jumpiness around Mal and I, I thought sadly to myself.
"Mom, I'm sorry," she cried, fighting against more tears. "I'll try harder, okay? Just please let me-"
"I said, shut up!" she yelled, slapping her again, harder this time. I winced instinctively, silently thanking whoever's out there that my parents never hit me. They were strict sometimes and we didn't always get along, but they'd never even think about harming my sister or I.
"First your bitchy attitude, then your grades. What's next, you gonna get pregnant? Just what we need, another ugly little brat like you running around."
"Mom, no, I just think I need some help because-" Amber started.
"Did I stutter?" Andrea raged, cutting her daughter off and pausing for a moment to finish off the bottle of alcohol she was drinking. "I said no, for God's sake!"
Amber tried again, but was once more cut off. "Mom, please, I just need to-"
"I'm not taking you to the damn doctor's or psychiatrist or whoever the hell you want to see," she continued. "For God's sake, shut up! I have enough crap to deal with and pay for without all of your anti-depressants and other bull-"
The man off to the side spoke up, interrupting her. "Andrea," he said quietly. "That's enough."
"Shut up, Dave," Andrea seethed, ignoring his words and turning back to Amber. "I have enough crap to pay for without adding your damn medical drugs to the list."
"Mom," she protested desperately, tears coursing down her cheeks. "I need help, why the hell can't you see that? I'm tired of living like this and-"
"WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST SAY?" Amber's mom screamed, stepping ominously towards Amber, bottle still in hand. "I said no, you ungrateful idiot! Why don't you start showing some appreciation towards your mother who feeds you and puts clothes on your back? All you've done since you got home from work is bug me about going to the damn doctor's! In fact, why don't you-"
"Andrea," the man said again, more forcefully and louder. "That is enough."
"Don't tell me what to do, Dave!" she screamed, turning back to Amber, raising the empty glass bottle, and swinging it at her. Amber tried to side-step and block it with her arms, but the bottle shattered against her skin, drawing blood and exploding glass every where. She tossed the bottle to the ground and grabbed the pistol from the counter, whipping it out with deadly speed and purpose and aiming at Amber.
Just as Andrea's finger squeezed the trigger, the man, Dave, yanked Amber out of the way. The bullet blasted through the wall just behind where Amber had been a split-second earlier, causing Amber to a scream.
What happened next seemed to go by in slow-motion.
"WHAT THE HELL?" Andrea screeched, turning on Dave. With drunken rage, she fired three shots at him. One missed, but the other two found their way to flesh: one in his arm, and one near his heart.
"Ahh!" Dave yelled, falling to the floor in a bloody heap.
Amber screamed and cowered back in the corner as her mom whirled around and again took aim at her. Mal and I sprang from cover, rapidly drawing our guns.
"S.F.P.D.!" Mal yelled, causing Andrea to whip around and point the gun at Mal. Amber's head snapped up, eyes widening in surprise. "Put the gun down and your hands up!"
"Ah hell no," she yelled, staggering around in intoxication. "I am not going to jail for this!"
With that, she threw one final glare at Amber, turned the gun on herself, pressed the barrel to her temple, and pulled the trigger.