SAFE AREA

Note: Hello everyone! Here is a brand-new fic! I have never written this style of story with fear and anguish. It remains centered on Jilliam of course, but the themes dealt with are attack, fear, and death. So, if you don't like this style of story, don't read! Fiction is rated M especially for murder scenes. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Murdoch Mysteries series or its characters which totally belong to their creators.

INTRODUCTION:

Why was he at this reception at the time of the tragedy? He could not remember very well. It seemed to him, now that he was crouching under the counter in Mr. Weston's office, that he was supposed to come with a friend. Which friend again? William swallowed hard. He heard a shrill cry coming from behind the door of the room where he had been hiding for a good ten minutes. He closed his eyes, a cold sweat running down his forehead.

"With George…I…I had to go with George…" he muttered incoherently.

Yes, he was supposed to come with George to this reception. But the latter had found something to do, in a way. Or more precisely, a woman had invited him to dinner. He had not held it against him. Of course not. He worked with George Crabtree, but he was also a friend of his. Inspector Brackenreid had given them both tickets to this reception. A raffle, they had originally said. Prizes to be won, but above all, overpriced tickets to finance a new wing in the kid's hospital in Toronto. The whole worldly society was obviously present there. People so important and so rich that the evening had been talked about weeks, even months before it had taken place.

Inspector Brackenreid and his wife had, of course, been in the front row to buy tickets. They were so proud of it that they told anyone who wanted to hear it. But, by an unfortunate coincidence, Bobby, their 12-year-old son, had chosen the night before the evening to do an "experiment" as he liked to call it. He had simply jumped from the plum tree in Brackenreid's garden to determine whether the force of the wind would make him fly or not. The answer was of course negative. Needless to explain why the couple could not participate in this long-awaited evening. They spent the night earlier in the hospital and the next day caring for their son.

Thomas Brackenreid then chose to give the tickets to George and William who had accepted them, flattered that they were the first people the couple had thought of to pass on something so precious to them.

But in the end, George had, at the last minute, decided on different plans and William had not dared to give up on Thomas Brackenreid who had hoped so much that his tickets would not be in vain. To be honest, now that his hair was soaked in cold sweat, sweaty palms, and surprising pain in his chest, he was so happy that George had decided not to come. And he was so glad the Brackenreids could not make it to that cursed party.

William jumped. He heard a howl of terror maybe two or three rooms away. A shot, then nothing. The young man huffed in terror. One more…

Julia was short of breath. How was she supposed to breathe already? How did it work? Inhale and exhale, right?

Her hand clutched at the baseball bat she had found at the Weston's. The Weston... Surely, they were both dead by now. The poor… They had organized all this grandiose reception… They had taken months to prepare it and they were so proud of it.

Julia heard a shrill scream that made her want to vomit. She could not take it anymore. She thought she could not take it anymore. She would surely die of anguish and fear. She was, in fact, in the Weston's playroom, pressed against one of the four walls that oppressed her.

It was his uncle who had given her this entrance ticket. She had not particularly wanted to go, but he had been so happy to give her entrance that she could not refuse. Her uncle was so nice to her, even though he did not always understand her. He did not understand why she had decided to work and be a doctor. He also could not understand why she was not married or had children. But he loved her and that was what mattered most to her.

When she arrived in the early evening, she must have greeted countless people they had known for years now. She did not know them personally, but they were people she had known all her life at parties like this. They were talking in a formal and impersonal way, but they were good people… They did not deserve this.

The young woman heard a heart-rending scream and thought she would faint on the spot when she heard the shot and the silence that followed...

Note: Well, this is just the beginning! I hope I will succeed in transcribing what I wanted and that you will like.