A/N: Wow! I really wasn't expecting reviews so soon, so thank you soooo
much! It really gives me more incentive to write! Clover, thank you for
your compliment. It's hard not knowing if others see what you see inside
of your own head, you know? And Southern Spell, thanks to you also! I
know, poor girl, right! Thanks again you guys!!
Chapter Two
"How are the headlines taday, Jack?" Kid Blink asked his friend. The two sat outside the distribution office, scanning their papers. It was a daily ritual, and one of the more calm moments of their days.
"Pretty good. Looks like we got another psycho socialite. Bank vice president killed his wife, shot his daughter, and then killed himself. Looks like we don't hafta make anything up on this one." Jack said with a smirk.
"What's wrong with dose people anyways? They got everything that they can want, and it's never enough. If I had dat kinda money, I would be the happiest man on da face of da earth." Kid replied.
"It don't say anything about the girl though. Maybe we could work with dat a bit." Jack said as he rolled ideas through his mind.
"Hey, it says here dat da father was in debt up ta his eyeballs. That's awesome. He was screwin' normal people out of dere money, and spendin' it all on himself." Kid Blink remarked.
"Dat's life though. The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. Pretty shitty, huh?" Jack sighed. He got up and hefted his load onto his shoulder. He was going to make sure that he was not sleeping outside tonight. His papers would sell quickly enough though, people were always more interested in hearing that someone else's life was worse than theirs, especially if that someone else was rich. He made his way through the crowd, calling out headlines as he heard the ritual chorus of his friends behind him.
Tara opened her eyes and squinted from the sunlight pouring into her room. Not her room, she realized, but rather a tiny box of a room. The walls were a plain white and seemed to be closing in on her. For a split second, she wondered why she was not in her own cozy bed, but then she remembered.
The gun. Her father. Her mother. Oh God.
The images from the past events passed through her mind. She felt her stomach tense, and knew that she was going to throw up. She looked around frantically, and spotted a bedpan next to her bed. She grabbed it just in time and started heaving into it. Then, a rolling pain in her shoulder made her recoil.
Her father had shot her. Her father, a man who had never once laid a hand on her in anger had tried to kill her. Tara felt her eyes start to water, but held back. She was feeling too much pain to cry. Her soul was shattered, her world as she knew it was blank. She wished that her father had killed her, because surely death must feel better than this emptiness.
The door to her room opened, and a young doctor came in, with a man in a suit following closely.
"Ahhh, Miss McCartle, your awake. Good. I'm Doctor Rosney. We were getting worried about you. You've been asleep for quite a while. It's been eight days since the incident. How are you feeling?" He asked in his placating doctor's voice.
Saying nothing, Tara just stared at him behind blank eyes.
"Ok, if you don't feel like talking, I don't blame you. This here is Mr. Malone, and he is going to explain your current situation." He said, and with that, he left her with this man in the room.
"Miss McCartle, I used to be your father's attorney. Let me start off by saying that I'm sorry for you loss. Your father was a great man."
With that last comment, Tara let out a very unladylike snort. "I would hope that not all 'great men' murder their wife and then kill themselves. Yeah, he was an amazing person." She responded full of cynicism.
Mr. Malone was shocked. This sarcasm was the last thing that he had expected out of her. Her next comment shocked him even more. "So, are you going to tell me what my current situation is, or are you just going to stand there, wasting my time?" She asked. Hatred and contempt dripped from her tongue like honey from a biscuit. She couldn't help it though. Her pain was just under the surface, boiling until she was afraid that it would burn over. Rather than dealing with that pain, she responded with malice, it was all that she had.
"Fine then. Miss McCartle. Your broke. You have no money. Is that what you want to hear? Your father had many debts, and the only way to pay that was to liquidate your assets. All you have left is fifteen hundred dollars. I suggest that you spend it wisely." And with that, he left the room.
Tara leaned back on her pillow. She understood his words, but she couldn't believe them. Debts? Her father had made plenty of money, why would he be in debt? She then realized that she had no home. Surely the bank must have sold it to pay them off. The full impact of the hopelessness of her situation hit her, and she stared off into space. She was an orphan. What was worse than being an orphan was being a poor homeless orphan. Well she would be damned if she was not going to a have a place to sleep at night. She fell asleep wracking her brain, trying to find out where she could work. Her last conscious thought was that she wished that her father's aim had been true.
Chapter Two
"How are the headlines taday, Jack?" Kid Blink asked his friend. The two sat outside the distribution office, scanning their papers. It was a daily ritual, and one of the more calm moments of their days.
"Pretty good. Looks like we got another psycho socialite. Bank vice president killed his wife, shot his daughter, and then killed himself. Looks like we don't hafta make anything up on this one." Jack said with a smirk.
"What's wrong with dose people anyways? They got everything that they can want, and it's never enough. If I had dat kinda money, I would be the happiest man on da face of da earth." Kid replied.
"It don't say anything about the girl though. Maybe we could work with dat a bit." Jack said as he rolled ideas through his mind.
"Hey, it says here dat da father was in debt up ta his eyeballs. That's awesome. He was screwin' normal people out of dere money, and spendin' it all on himself." Kid Blink remarked.
"Dat's life though. The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. Pretty shitty, huh?" Jack sighed. He got up and hefted his load onto his shoulder. He was going to make sure that he was not sleeping outside tonight. His papers would sell quickly enough though, people were always more interested in hearing that someone else's life was worse than theirs, especially if that someone else was rich. He made his way through the crowd, calling out headlines as he heard the ritual chorus of his friends behind him.
Tara opened her eyes and squinted from the sunlight pouring into her room. Not her room, she realized, but rather a tiny box of a room. The walls were a plain white and seemed to be closing in on her. For a split second, she wondered why she was not in her own cozy bed, but then she remembered.
The gun. Her father. Her mother. Oh God.
The images from the past events passed through her mind. She felt her stomach tense, and knew that she was going to throw up. She looked around frantically, and spotted a bedpan next to her bed. She grabbed it just in time and started heaving into it. Then, a rolling pain in her shoulder made her recoil.
Her father had shot her. Her father, a man who had never once laid a hand on her in anger had tried to kill her. Tara felt her eyes start to water, but held back. She was feeling too much pain to cry. Her soul was shattered, her world as she knew it was blank. She wished that her father had killed her, because surely death must feel better than this emptiness.
The door to her room opened, and a young doctor came in, with a man in a suit following closely.
"Ahhh, Miss McCartle, your awake. Good. I'm Doctor Rosney. We were getting worried about you. You've been asleep for quite a while. It's been eight days since the incident. How are you feeling?" He asked in his placating doctor's voice.
Saying nothing, Tara just stared at him behind blank eyes.
"Ok, if you don't feel like talking, I don't blame you. This here is Mr. Malone, and he is going to explain your current situation." He said, and with that, he left her with this man in the room.
"Miss McCartle, I used to be your father's attorney. Let me start off by saying that I'm sorry for you loss. Your father was a great man."
With that last comment, Tara let out a very unladylike snort. "I would hope that not all 'great men' murder their wife and then kill themselves. Yeah, he was an amazing person." She responded full of cynicism.
Mr. Malone was shocked. This sarcasm was the last thing that he had expected out of her. Her next comment shocked him even more. "So, are you going to tell me what my current situation is, or are you just going to stand there, wasting my time?" She asked. Hatred and contempt dripped from her tongue like honey from a biscuit. She couldn't help it though. Her pain was just under the surface, boiling until she was afraid that it would burn over. Rather than dealing with that pain, she responded with malice, it was all that she had.
"Fine then. Miss McCartle. Your broke. You have no money. Is that what you want to hear? Your father had many debts, and the only way to pay that was to liquidate your assets. All you have left is fifteen hundred dollars. I suggest that you spend it wisely." And with that, he left the room.
Tara leaned back on her pillow. She understood his words, but she couldn't believe them. Debts? Her father had made plenty of money, why would he be in debt? She then realized that she had no home. Surely the bank must have sold it to pay them off. The full impact of the hopelessness of her situation hit her, and she stared off into space. She was an orphan. What was worse than being an orphan was being a poor homeless orphan. Well she would be damned if she was not going to a have a place to sleep at night. She fell asleep wracking her brain, trying to find out where she could work. Her last conscious thought was that she wished that her father's aim had been true.