Hey all, I'm sorry but tis kinda short and there may not be much coming after this until after January cause I got midterms and one PAT to write. I know yuck and I have a piano exam to prepare for too. Aw, I know you're all sad but meh can't be helped and I left u with a big cliffhanger too, ain't I just nice.

Simply Crisis: Your wish has come true.

Secret Whispers: Chapter Eighteen I Promise

Andrea stroked the thin knife she had tucked into her boot and waited, better to be on the defensive then the offensive, you never knew how he might twist your words. The man leered back at her as Andrea stared at the closed door, she finally nodded. The man smiled his rotten smile before reopening the car door, he reached in and grabbed Ryan's hair and arm before he yanked him out of the car and onto the road. Andrea winced sympathetically at the sight of her little brother lying broken before her, bruises and scratched marred his pretty face and his nose was broken. All the classic of signs of sexual assualt was there right down to the redressage of clothing. She opened the door to her car and came within inches of putting a big long scratch on the side of the man's dark car, she slowly got out.

The man studied her, his name was Drew Reynolds, a long time ago he used to own his own firm and had drowned in luxury and women. His drinking problem had started right after the love of his life had walked out of his life forever. The woman had had exotic brown eyes that had held the secrets of the universe, her skin shone a light golden glow, her hair had been long and soft and had smelled of flowers. In return for his hospitality, she had left him with 3 children, that may or may not have been his. Drew's alcholic problems had started, he didn't blame himself, he blamed everyone else around him. He started losing respect and authority, people left his firm to work for more saner people, and he had been thrown out on his butt once for showing up to court drunk as hell.

To Drew this one daughter had seemed a lot like her mother, hell they all reminded him of their mother, but this one was closest, even if her face were more hawklike. He walked up to her and carefully sidestepped his step son, he was a pretty one but he didn't hold a candle to either of his step daughters. He opened up his arms intending to hug his daughter, the one who reminded him so much of his ex wife. But then he felt something stab his abdomen, like lightning. He looked down, shocked to see a small thin blade sticking out of his stomach and the hand who grasped it was her daughter's. He stared disbelievingly into her eyes, while she smirked and said, "Don't worry, I didn't hit anything major." she pulled the blade back out, "But maybe you should hope you don't bleed out here, alone, in this neighbourhood where no one cares about you."

His knees felt weak and without him noticing he dropped to his knees, still unable to comprehend anything his beloved daughter had just said. After she had lifted Ryan into her car, she turned back to the pitiful state of the man that had once been powerful and threw something at him. "Here." she said gruffly, "Think of it as a last favour from your estranged family." she got into the car and drove away.

Drew stared at the little pink phone, he didn't comprehend. Finally he picked it up with his blood stained fingers, remembering what it was for. He slowly dialed 911 and explained his situation all with a cool voice. He had gone from hot to cold, he had summoned the coldness from the icy fury he felt inside his soul and vowed that he would track her and her pretty faced brother down and take them out slowly, one by one. He gasped as a wave of pain hit him, yes they would pay very dearly.

Minutes later, a siren sounded down the street and the girls and a handful of guys out on the streets strutting their stuff disappeared like smoke and moments later Drew could see the flashing red lights as he passed out. He later woke to the white walls and stomach rolling stench of antiseptic, morphine, and other less pleasant things, he moved his right hand to scratch an itch coming from his abdomen, only to find his hands cuffed to the railings on the bed. "What the?" Drew asked confused to no one in particular.

A man in a brown suit and scuffed black shoes appeared from the doorway, he was going bald and he was slightly pudgy, but that didn't mean he was stupid. Drew watched the intelligent and hawk like eyes scan him up and down. The man went to clip something to the lapel of his jacket, a badge. Drew's eyes widened slightly, the police. The man looked down at him, "Not a smart move, Reynolds. The phone call might have saved your life, but at the cost of being arrested."

Drew snarled and tried to wrench his hands out of the handcuffs, "Don't waste your strength." the man said, "We heard of your last, bust the bed scheme. Won't work this time, now I'll take the pleasure to reading you your rights." he read out the revised Miranda and then said with flourish, "Mr Drew Reynolds you are being arrested for: murdering your step daughter, Katrina Reynolds, bunch of other murders, sexual abuse, child molestation, rape, aggravated battery, assualt, assualt with a deadly weapon, fraud, and the list just goes on and on." he informed Drew, "They'll all be read out during your booking, man I feel sorry for the guy who's gonna read out your crimes, he'll be dehydrated by the time he's done." he walked out.

Drew screamed with frustration and wrenched helplessly at the handcuffs chaining him in place, he couldn't give the old fart of a cop the satisfaction of an easy take down of the most wanted man in Canada and the USA. But what could he do? Suicide? It was possible but then what about his revenge? His sweet revenge? No, suicide was out of the question unless it be the last resort, but he would have to have some sort of escape plane. With all the stuff he had done all over the country it would be likely he'd either get in for life or death, death was the way to go. Screw revenge, he wouldn't even get to taste the sweetness of it and it was always comfort before discomfort in Drew's books.

Captain Jim Brass smiled triumphantly into his coffee cup, before wincing as the sludge disguised as coffee touched his tongue. His head shot upward as the officer guarding the bastard's doorway started squawking for help. Doctors, nurses, and Brass rushed into the room, Reynolds was convulsing his eyes wide and glassy. Blood flowed freely from the gash on his wrist, Brass heard a doctor shouting distantly, "What happened?"

"He used his incisors to chew through." somebody answered.

Everything happened in a flash and Brass and a load of unhelpful nurses were pushed out of the room as the doctors rushed Reynolds into the OR. Brass frowned, the slippery sonofabitch. Brass hoped that he didn't die too soon, he wanted a crack at him.

Andrea parked in front of a motel on the outskirts of Vegas, every once in a while she could hear and feel the rumbling of airplanes flying over head. She wrapped a hand around Ryan's hips and proceeded to half support and half drag him up the stairs. They came to a bare wooden door with the number 48 painted on it, the red paint was cracked and peeling off. Andrea inserted her key and opened the door. The room beyond was bare and dingy, the windows were covered with filth and dust, the rug worn bare, but the best thing was, it didn't have any bugs. She gently laid Ryan down in what she assumed was a bed, it was only a mattress with thread bare sheets, and stretched out the kinks in her arms and neck.

She went to the tap and turned it on, at first it spurted before turning into a steady stream, she wet a cloth she found under the sink and filled a small bowl full of water. Turning off the sink she went back out of the small bathroom, only to be startled to see a pair of blue eyes staring at her balefully. She grinned, "You're awake?"

He only cocked his head to one side and shifted up onto his elbows without taking his piercing blue eyes off of her. "Ryan?" Andrea asked panic riding on her voice, "Are you all right?"

"Who...who are you?" he asked in a painful whisper.

"Ryan, it's me Andrea your older sister?" she set down the bowl and approached him.

Ryan shifted to one side, "I don't know you, get away from me."

Now the panic really started to sink into her soul and she thought, 'What did that bastard do to him?'

"Ryan, come on. Stop scaring me."

"Who the hell is Ryan? For god sakes leave me alone, you bloody murderer." he shouted, wincing at the pain enaminating from his cracked ribs.

Andrea stopped in her tracks as the truth shot home, she was a murderer, she had watched people die right before her, her hands had felt the warm red, coppery smelling liquid humans called blood. She had disfigured the helpless, all the while taking pleasure in seeing their terrified looks when they realized who and what exactly they were dealing with.

But then she realized that what Ryan was babbling about was just that, babbling. He didn't know where he was or who he was and that probably meant he was stuck in the crossroads between reality and the dream world. Andrea rubbed her chin, how was she gonna make him remember? She had read in one of those science journals, that it was the sick persons choice to when and how they were gonna wake up. "Might as well make the best of it." she mumbled to herself before rounding on Ryan who was now crouched in the far righthand corner of the mattress, his bruised back pressed upon the wall. "Here Zachy, I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna see your hurts and make them all go away." she cooed gently using his given name.

Ryan unfolded himself slowly out of his painful position and crouched cautiously in front of him, "You're not gonna hurt me?"

Andrea shook her head, "Promise?" he whispered his eyes wide and innocent looking like those of a small kid.

Andrea smiled down at him, "I promise."