It is Sunday and as promised, here is the update. I have to thank a certain Moftiss for this one. Quick note, the part where it is A LOT of italics are kind of dreamy flashbacks. Okay. That's it. I am sorry for this.
-HS
Light is way too bright, head hurts, don't want to open eyes. A noise came from nowhere and out of instinct Amelie snapped open her eyes to look where its origin came from. A man dressed entirely in black sat slumped in the corner of the large room and Amelie automatically stood up. Only to regret it as the blood came rushing from her head and Amelie found herself kneeling on the ground. You are an idiot. You were definitely drugged, do you really think you'd be alright in the head?
After insulting her thought processes, Amelie looked up as another noise slithered its way out of the man's mouth with a rumble. Standing up, slowly this time, Amelie moved closer to the man to make sure that the sound was actually from him. Another hiss came from his nose and mouth and Amelie decided the man was out cold. Way to fabulously be a guard. Sleeping on the job.
Amelie turned away from the loud snoring and back to look at the florescent lighted room. The only noticeable aspects were the metal table in the middle, the guard, the blue keypad on the door, and giant windows. Wait, giant windows. Am I still in the warehouse? Seriously? Hold on, Amelie. Getting ahead of yourself. Why are you here and why are you relatively alone, huh?
Shuffling over to the glass, Amelie looked over the scene below. Soldiers still crossed the floor in small squads and lab coated scientists moved in and out of the stacks of weapons and other assorted things. She didn't see any shock of unruly black hair, nor a sandy blonde head in the groups of people, though. Shame. Too bad these aren't open and I don't have a supply of water balloons. Once I see them, they would regret leaving me behind.
Amelie shrugged her shoulders at the disadvantage and began planning other revenge tactics to use on the boys once they returned. She smiled as she thought of using her chemistry set to create an elemental hell, but it slipped off her face as she heard a series of five beeps and a click sound too quietly in the room. Not daring to turn around, Amelie watched in the glass reflection as a figure moved closer to her as it slipped inside. He opened the door in stealth. Not staff. Tall, muscular, and breathing heavily. Anticipated for something and is a threat. SHERLOCK! JOHN! Do come quick.
The stranger spoke as he grew nearer to Amelie. "Hello, sweetheart."
Amelie cocked her head towards the voice and couldn't help, but think that she had heard that voice before. Knowing she had no options of escape, Amelie turned fully around to greet the man. As soon as she saw him, though, she fell hard back into the glass and let out a stunned scream; a scream which woke the sleeping guard.
Startled at seeing another man in the room, the guard yelled out in a heavy accent, "Whadya think yer doing, mate?!"
The man only brought out a silenced gun in reply and shot the guard without ever turning away from Amelie. Amelie was still collecting herself and didn't even realize a man had just died and the killer had stepped closer to her.
"Sweetie, sorry it took so long to see you again."
Amelie looked up at the man who she thought had been long dead. The man who she once looked up to, the man she once trusted, the man who she once called, "Daddy". She didn't trust this man, though. This man had a scar running the length of his hairline across a single eye and down to his jaw. This man had eyes that were cold and icy blue, not the warm and liquid sapphire she remembered from her childhood. This man was not her father. "Who are you?"
Her once-father moved a calloused and warm hand to cover Amelie's cheek. In spite of what she was thinking, Amelie leaned into the touch that was absent from her for so long.
"Don't you know?"
Amelie closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of his skin. That is the same. Forest, he always smelled like the forest. This is dad. "Yeah, I do now."
Suddenly, the touch hardened and Amelie felt her head crack against the glass of the window as her father slammed her against it. Leaning in close to her face, Amelie's father hissed, "Then, you should remember your mother as well. Do you remember her, Amelie?"
Tears sprang into her eyes as she recalled the memory of her mother. Thin, blonde, beautiful, always smiled, smelled like lilacs. Failing to keep her voice level, Amelie whimpered out, "Yes, dad, I do."
A smile crept on his face as she said this and he moved his hand to Amelie's pale throat to continue to hold her off the floor. "You got her killed, Amelie. You killed her."
Watery crystals dripped from the corners of her eyes and Amelie tried to reply, but found herself unable to speak nor breathe. Her father's grip grew tighter and tighter and Amelie couldn't help, but slam her small fists into his chest in protest. God, I am going to die. I am going to die. I am going to die.
The hold on her loosened as Amelie's vision blurred into an empty shade of black and let her fall heavily to the ground gasping for air through her broken windpipe. The abuse was far from over, though. A large boot found its place in Amelie's abdomen and kept returning home, again and again. As the blows shattered her ribs, Amelie's father said, "This is what we both felt, Amelie. That car crash; crushed your mother and scarred me."
Do not cry. Do not scream. Do not- Amelie couldn't stop herself from letting out a blood curdling shriek as she felt her ribs crack. Giving up on being stoic, Amelie begged, "Please, stop. Daddy, please stop."
The boot stopped just as it was about to give another blow and rested itself on the ground. Her father chuckled at the sight of Amelie trying to sit up and watching her fail. "You want to know something, love?"
Amelie didn't bother to reply and instead focused on trying to get away. Severe injury to right thigh. A well placed kick and a shot at the groin should give me enough time if I can just get up.
Crouching slowly down to her level, her father said, "I haven't ever been far. Always kept up tradition. You killed your mom on Christmas day, so I had to make sure you were always crushed almost every Christmas after that. Grandad, Grandmom, they knew I was alive. That's why they moved to such a secluded place where the birds would always sing unless there was a threat. The birds didn't sing that day, did they Amelie?"
Shaking her head in refusal to believe it, Amelie tried once again to at least get to her knees. The ground met her face once more, though.
"Those families. Always thought you were a brat, didn't take much to make them put you back where you belonged. Put you where no one would love you."
Amelie felt her eyes sting with the rising of tears and watched as small drops blossomed on the carpet as she rolled over to get her hands underneath her body for support. The pounding in her skull and the sharp stabs in her side made her bite her lip so hard that blood mixed in with the salty tears. Just shut up. You are lying. This can't be true.
"This Christmas I was going to finally say hello, too! I was going to make you beg and weep, but then I found out you were suddenly sent over here to England. You were so horrible for that family that I didn't even have to ask them to throw you away. I came to follow you and then I met up with Uncle Jim. Yes, he had your mom killed, but I didn't blame him. I didn't blame him for what you did."
Too much blood had built up in Amelie's mouth, so she spit it out hard enough to spray off on her father's shoes. And here comes the swing.
A hard slap to the side of her face sent Amelie flying back into the window. She heard the crack of the glass and saw the spider web spreading out from where her body had made contact. The hit realigned her ribs, though, and Amelie was able to get up off the floor and stand unsteadily on two feet. Wiping away the crimson fluid from her lips and head, Amelie looked up into her father's eyes.
"You made friends, though. Friends who care so little about you that they let Uncle Jim get to you. I wasn't very happy he attacked you before I did. Let Big Brother Holmes know where he was. That's why he is even here today. That's why he will never leave."
Amelie kept her face in a marble statue, never letting her emotions show. Sherlock and John care about me. They do. They are my friends.
"I have to keep up tradition, though, don't you see? It is Christmas and you don't even get to have coal. You only get this."
Her father's foot moved up to plant a foot right in Amelie's chest, but as his leg extended, Amelie moved to the side and slammed with all she had down on his bad thigh and into his groin. A shocked yell came out of him and he fell to one knee on the floor. Amelie limped quickly away, past the corpse of her failed guard, and to the blue light of the keypad. Recalling the exact noises of the five digits her father had input, Amelie pushed on the keypad 93756 and rushed out the door as she watched her father get up and run after her.
Despite the trickle of blood leaking into her eye and the shots of pain coming from her side, Amelie limped onwards, away from the trudging footsteps. She didn't bother to look behind her as she turned down a hallway and in through a doorway labeled as, "FIRE ESCAPE."
The slam of the door echoed through the stairwell, but Amelie staggered forward, not willing an inch of ground to be given up. She didn't flinch as she heard it slam again. Her only reaction was the moving of her feet faster down the steps and focusing harder on not tripping. Suddenly, Amelie was pushing against another door and falling out on the ground floor of the warehouse as her ankle twisted. Moving as quickly as she could away from the doorway, Amelie crawled across the floor screaming out for help. Strong hands found her ankles and began to drag her back into the stairs. All the staff of the floor were deaf to Amelie's pleas as a jet engine was brought to life. Looking backwards at her father with glistening eyes, Amelie quietly said, "I'm sorry" and kicked him square in the face.
Release came easy enough as her father reached up to stop the fountain of blood that exploded from his nose. Getting up, despite being broken, Amelie ran into the middle of the warehouse and away from her screaming father. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Amelie ran blindly as tears and blood welled up in her eyes and didn't see the army doctor before she was sprinting head on into his chest. Safety found a place in her heart and the relief caused Amelie to fall into the stunned doctor's arms in a delirious state muttering, "He's alive and I killed her, he's alive and I killed her, he's alive..."
Sherlock and John walked away from the interrogation room with their heads hanging low and were stopped by Mycroft about halfway down that white-walled hallway. He gave them the clear to get Amelie, but was very hesitant before letting them go.
"Sherlock, listen..."
Wanting to simply get Amelie back, Sherlock turned away from Mycroft and called over his shoulder, "Thank you, brother, but I know where she is. I can get her."
Mycroft had let his reaching hand fall and moved it to tighten his tie. "Very well. Don't return to me, though."
Why would I ever want to do that? "Bye, Mycroft!"
John looked curiously back at the pompous man as they continued walking and whispered, "What was that about?"
Sherlock had his hand on the door to let them out to the floor of the warehouse and hesitated to open it as he asked, "What was what about?"
Tearing his eyes away from the wringing hands of Mycroft, John said, "I don't know. Mycroft just seemed... Concerned."
A snide laugh left Sherlock's mouth and he didn't bother to reply. Concerned. Mycroft is never concerned unless it has to do with a shortage in cake or blackmailing.
Walking out into the warehouse, a jet engine erupted and John clapped his hands over his ears to protect them from exploding.
Sherlock didn't, though, because as he looked up towards where Amelie should have been kept, a million cracks spread across a single window and a smear of red shaded itself on a small part of it. Placing an unsteady hand on Johns arm, Sherlock tried to keep his mind calm. She's going to be alright. Must be alright.
John began to ask what was wrong with Sherlock but stopped as he followed the mans frantic eyes to a near shattered and bloody window. "God, no."
Both men simultaneously broke out in a sprint to get to the stairs leading up to the room. Knocking over chairs and people alike, they neared the door, not paying attention to the girl flying right at them.
John and Amelie crashed into each other and Sherlock skidded to a stop and looked over the damage done to her.
Fractured ribs, shattered skull, abuse to face, bruises on neck coördinate with the pattern of fingers. Asphyxiation. Sherlock let his mind buzz with deductions to keep his emotions from being engulfed in grief and anger. Amelie kept muttering something about someone being alive and she killed her. He's alive... Her father... Her father did this. A high level security base and he simply sauntered in and did this to her. Mycroft.
Ignoring the whimpering of Amelie and the questions thrown at him from John, Sherlock roared out his brother's name and ran straight back to the first entrance of the interrogation room, only to find himself being pinned down by a military officer.
"GET OFF OF ME."
The soldier calmly said, "Sir, you have a message."
Whipping his head around to stare at the man who was bracing him to the floor, the consulting detective asked, "What is it?"
Getting off of him, the officer replied with, "It is from Mister Holmes, sir. He said it was either Moriarty or her. He said he had to give the girl over if he wanted Moriarty. He says he is sorry."
The man turned and left Sherlock with the word sorry hanging in the air. Sherlock slowly stood up and looked towards John who was sinking to the floor with an unconscious Amelie held in his arms. Doctors and staff stood away from them all, despite the pleas of John for help.
Looking straight at Sherlock and down at the beaten and broken girl in his arms, John yelled for Sherlock to get help, yet the detective stood as still as the rest of the crowd in the warehouse.
"I failed John. I failed once again."
"I don't care! Get over here and help with her!"
"I can't."
John laid Amelie's limp head slowly to the ground and marched over to Sherlock. Grabbing him by the loose part of his scarf, the now army doctor, not ordinary blogger, dragged Sherlock over to Amelie and said, "I need to get her ribs realigned or her lungs will be pierced and she will die. I need you to help me. I don't care if your mind isn't handling these emotions, I need you."
Sherlock nodded a yes and locked his sentimentality into the smallest room of his mind palace. Still, no one came to help the two men as they worked to undo the damage put on their Amelie nor did anyone move to stop the man slipping out the front of the warehouse. Someone must have called an ambulance as sirens grew closer and a grim irony of humor came as a Christmas song crackled over a random radio as the weather turned for the worst.
"Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."
I am five and the radio is playing a song. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. Mom wouldn't let me open my presents that morning. The snow swirled in heavy gusts around the windows and mom kept talking on the phone.
"I can't keep doing this Jim. I have a life outside of the business and I can't bargain it."
Mom grabbed a knife and began to twirl it around in her fingers with an unnatural skill. I'm worried. I brought in my stuffed dinosaur closer to my chest and watched as Mom stabbed the blade deep into the counter.
"I'm done. We're done. It is Christmas and Amelie hasn't even opened her presents."
I don't care about my gifts anymore as Mom comes over to kneel in front of me. Her eyes are really shiny, kind of like how mine get when I scrape my knee. She is saying something about having to leave and I don't want her to go. I begged for her to stay. Daddy walked out of their bedroom and told me it was going to be alright. That they were going to be right back. They just had to go get something from the store. Yet, I know they are lying because the store is always closed on Christmas. So, I ask them to stay, but they leave anyways. They leave me all alone in the big house all by myself and I'm scared. I don't think Mom and Daddy are going to come home. I am right when the police officers and Grandad come to get me. They say it was an accident. Yet, it isn't true. It wasn't an accident. I know it, but no one wants to listen as they take me away from the big house. As Grandad sits me on his lap and tells me it is all okay, I just shake my head and reach for my dinosaur. I am in Grandads car, though, and my dinosaur isn't there and he puts me in the big people's seat and starts to drive away. I want my dinosaur and I want my Mom and Daddy, but I know they aren't coming back.
I am eight now. It is sunny and tropical at Grandmom's and Grandad's house for Christmas. They won't let me go to normal school because I am too smart they say, but I think that they are afraid that I won't come home like Mom and Daddy. I am okay with staying here, though. Grandad lets me read all about nature and Edwin Way Teale is so nice. He takes really pretty pictures, but I like his words more. Somehow, he makes his words prettier than his pictures. I like nature. I like how the sun colors the sky and I like how the birds are always singing. Nature makes my world feel safe and here, I feel at home.
I like Christmas with my grandparents. They put out oranges instead of carrots because they say the reindeer like them better and I believe them because they are all gone in the morning. I woke up and found them all gone, but I also found Grandad and Grandmom missing too. I ran outside to see if they were there and the birds had disappeared too. Not one single song, but the silence is broken by two big bangs. BANG. BANG. And the birds never sang again nor did Grandad point to the sky or Grandmom give me a hug again. They never were going to come home. They left me all alone in the big wide world and I haven't got anyone now. I am all alone. I haven't got a home.
I am now fourteen and I have already gone through three foster families. Silly to think this family would be any different. They are calling me vile and unworthy and that I don't deserve anything. Of course I don't. I never have. I made them upset this time by telling Phil that his mistress is cheating on him in front of Margret. Of course Margret didn't want to believe that Phil was being indecent and thus began the yelling. Phil hit me a couple of times and I just took it because if I deserve anything, it was that. I told them to put me back and Margret told me that she was way ahead of me. Hilarious. They already had the paperwork to throw me away. Merry Christmas.
I am now sixteen and I finally have a family after two years of the orphanage. Make this number five. They are decent people and I try to not make them hate me. I accidentally let one of my deductions slip about what Lily, my foster-sister, had been up to with Kyle, her boyfriend. Boyfriends are tedious, always have to feed them and acknowledge them. I have no patience for it, but Lily does and she calls me a whore as I tell her Kyle is cheating on her. Off to England they send me after Fred and Janet catch me holding Lily on the ground after she had attacked me. Do I have to say Happy Christmas now? I know that once I get back to America it will be a trip into the mouth of hell's orphanage. Oh well. I don't care. I deserve it. Everything good in my life is always taken away because I don't deserve it. Then, as I stand there in a line of the most tedious qualities, the airport erupts in alarms...
The private hospital room goes off in alarms of every variation as Amelie's heart rate climbs, then drops to a pulse of almost zero. The doctors are in a buzz of activity as they try to bring her back to a normal level, but things are going array. John and Sherlock sit impatiently outside, along with a worried William, who just happened to be there as this was the same hospital his sister was at. The noise is suddenly silenced and Sherlock stands up as a lone doctor walks out of her room. John grabs a hold of the mans wrist to keep him from shaking answers out of the medical professional.
The doctor checks his clipboard and says, "I'm sorry..."