Okay, I'm only putting up these three chapters, for three reasons: 1) my friend is whining at me to call her, 2) I need to make you all squirm (evil look), and 3)...because I CAN!

Muahahaha!
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Alex lay in bed, late that night, staring up at the ceiling. She listened to the merry noise downstairs as she puzzled over everything her apparent grandfather, Gabriel, had told her.

From what he had told her, she noticed that the Daelins died often; and since he had described the blood as being "stubborn, determined, proud, reckless" at different points, she figured that it was because of wild lifestyles, such as being an outlaw, and maybe a few deaths were based on chance. But mostly her mind was lapping around thoughts of her mother, and then darker thoughts; why did her mother abandon her and leave her to the lifestyle of an impoverished orphan?

Slowly, she started dozing off, the blackness of the dark room enveloping her, her eyelids drooping and shutting, her breathing slowing. Then, with a start, she came fully awake, as a thought struck her: she hadn't asked what her mother's name was!

Oh, well, she thought. I'll have to go back tomorrow. Then she fell into a heavy sleep.

After arising a while before noon, in the earlier hours of late morning, Alex dressed, headed downstairs and had a small breakfast with the added touch of whiskey, then walked over to Gabriel's house. But as she approached, a tingling feeling started in her stomach, making her increasingly nervous and uncomfortable. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, goosebumps broke out over her arms, and chills traveled up her spine.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Alex quickened her pace towards the door, and bolted up the steps of the porch, freezing directly in front of the door. Her stomach did a somersault; there were scrapemarks around the doorknob and doorjamb, and it was open ever so slightly. She slipped out a pistol and pushed the door open slowly, entering at a slow, cautious pace. There was no sound inside; everything was dead silent.

She followed the path to the living room that Gabriel had led her to before, and what she saw there made her gape in shock and dread.

Laying on the floor, on his stomach in a pool of blood that seemed to be spreading from his chest area, was Gabriel Daelin; dead as dead could ever be.

She conquered her brief spasm of shock, and crouched beside him, turning him back over onto his back so she could examine the wound. Two shots, within millimeters of each other; straight to the heart. Alex glanced around the room; there didn't seem any signs of much of a struggle, besides that a little wooden stand beside the door was tipped over against the nearby cabinet.

She followed the scene with her mind: somebody entered the house by the door, and took Gabriel by surprise as he or she entered the living room. Two shots to the heart, he didn't even have a chance to yell, and he went down like a sack of potatoes, turning or rolling in the process. The killer, in his or her haste to escape, probably tipped the stand over, and left the door open.

Alex grimaced as she pulled her hand back, the fingertips covered in blood. Her grandfather's blood.

A mind-shattering scream petrified her for a moment, and then when she finally whipped around, she saw Martà standing in the doorway, a shopping bag dropped at her feet, her hands pressed to her cheeks, mouth open. She emitted another scream before Alex could say anything, then turned and started running.

"No-no, Martà! It isn't what it looks like-Martà!" Alex called desperately, then turned her attention back to the dead man. Who killed you? she wondered silently. Who would have done this?

She headed to the doorway and looked around; it was best to be running off now. But even as she started out, she heard shouts, and saw men rushing at her, one of which was wearing the sheriff's badge, with his gun drawn. She put up her hands, and said, "It wasn't me."

"I don't want to hear it," the sheriff said, as the handcuffs were clapped rather roughly around her wrists. "You're under arrest for the murder of Gabriel Daelin."
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"I never said be like me, I said be yourself, and make a difference."
-Marilyn Manson (aww, an inspirational quote!)

-Wolf