This chapter is sad. I'm sorry if you cry, and that's all I have to say, except that it's a flashback, which seems fairly obvious from the: three years before… but that some people can't see.
Since it's Christmas Day, I feel kind of bad posting something this horrible. I don't know if I'll have another chance to post anytime soon, in the next few weeks, so I'm posting now. Please tell me how you feel about this chapter. If it's disturbing to anyone, I apologize sincerely, but I think it's necessary, and I most definitely did not write it because I delight in blood and gore. I'm afraid these things don't bother me as much as theybother others, because I've gotten used to it. Please tell me if it was too much.
Anyway, I'm going to have to start writing faster. I'm currently past page one hundred, and as I hoped, about half way through the book. Love you. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.
Three years before…
Valerie smiled at her little brother. She felt ridiculously proud of him! Such a smart little baby. "Come on, baby," she said coaxingly. "Come on. Walk for Valerie! It's my birthday!" She held on tightly to his chubby little hands so he wouldn't fall, and watched his little feet paw unsteadily at the ground. "Come on, baby! Walk! Take one step!"
He tightened his grip on her fingers, and pulled himself forward, smiling at her beguilingly, and trying to tell her something without words.
Valerie laughed, and swung him up into the air, blowing kisses to him. Someday, she would have a baby just like him! He was a perfect baby— he never cried.
"Valerie!" Her father knocked. "Come on! It's dark now!"
"Coming." She set him back down in his crib, whispering for him to be quiet. She'd been told not to play with him,because it was past his bedtime "Be asleep!" His little eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he held his breath, tiny body quivering with excitement over the naughtiness of the whole thing. He was such a smart little baby.
She stepped brisklyout of the room and followed him down the hall. "What are we going to do tonight?"
"Climb. We're going to work onvertical surfaces. They aren't really straight up, you know. There's almost always some way around that. I've never faced a wall I couldn't climb. You've got to be like a spider almost; cling to the surface." Like always, he paused at the door, peering out before opening it, gun drawn.
Like always, nothing happened.
Like always, Valerie asked: "Do you really have to do that? What if someone saw you?"
"Then I'd shoot them. You can't risk it. Besides, someone I knowsaw someone who doesn't like me so well in town a few days ago. It could be a coincidence, maybe not even the same person, but—" He froze at arustling in the bushes, pointing the gun straight at them.
With a frightened sob, one of the familiar street roamers rolled out of the bushes. He was only about five or so, and to thin even for the usual street roamers. "Don't shoot me! I don't have any pennies!"
Valerie gritted her teeth, and waited for the shot. Her father was deadly strict with his rules. Besides, the kid would probably be happier dead than alive. He was probably hungry, probablysick, would probably die early, and probably had no life.
For a moment, her father hesitated. Then he lowered the gun. "Alright. Go on. Just stay out of here and keep quiet."
Glad to be let off so easy for a crime he wasn't certain of, he scurried away on all fours and disappeared.
"Why didn't you shoot him?"
Her fathershook his head. "He's just a little kid, Valerie. Like your brother. I can't shoot him. He didn't do anything wrong, he just showed up here at the wrong timeof night. Besides, what are the odds that he'll tell anyone— much less the person. Who wants to know. I'm not even sure iftheman'sin America, let alone Chicago. What's the harm in letting him go?"
Valerie squirmed, and shrugged, unwilling to say anything. She supposed he was right.
They were both wrong.
Valerie frowned as they came around the corner. "The kitchen light's not on. Do you think something's the matter?"
Her father was already pressing her back. "Hell, yes, I think something's the matter! It's been on every single night for the past nine years! Do think she'd forget?"
Valerie crouched down behind him in the shadows, suddenly frightened. She wanted to be a little girl again, so she could crawl over to him, and curl up and let him hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. But she knew she couldn't, and it'd probably be a lie anyway. Everything was already not okay if the light wasn't on.
For a moment, he was silent while he thought. Then he stood. "Listen to me, Valerie. I want you to hide in the manhole here. Don't come out for any reason until I come get you. Either that, or if I don't come get you, two days have passed. I'm going to go in."
"But what if—"
He turned around, meeting her eyes as he stopped to pull back the cover for her. "Get in! You have a watch. If I win, I'll come get you in a little bit. If not, I won't."
Valerie swallowed and slipped down inside, reaching for a flashlight they kept stored down there. They'd never had to use it before, but her father kept it anyways— just in case something ever happened. Something like this. Something bad.
"No matter what you hear, and no matter how bad you want out— if I don't come get you, you promise to stay down here for two days!"
Valerie said nothing.
"You promise me that!"
"I promise," she whispered in a trembling voice. She'd never been so scared before! Every other enemy, her father had beaten so easily. Now, he was talking like he would probably lose.
"Good. If you have to wait two days, and we're dead or gone, you can't stay here. Don't even go into the house, if you can help it. Stay out and away. Use what I taught you to keep alive, alright?"
"Yes, sir."
"I love you." He'd never said that before. Valerie set her head against the concrete wall that the ladder she was standing on was embedded in as he returned the cover to it's proper position. She'd known he loved her— but he'd never said it before. It wasn't his way.
An hour passed. Two hours. Her fear increased. He shouldn't have been gone this long! What had happened? Still nothing. Around four in the morning, she heard soft voices above her.
"Looks like he came back her with someone. I wonder who it was."
A grunt. "That kid said he'd been with a girl. Said she looked like him. You think he had a daughter?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. She's no worry though. Who'd teach a daughter? Maybe she ran off. It doesn't matter though. We killed everyone worth killing. We ought to go."
"Yeah. Sooner or later the cops are gonna come calling. I wondered what they did?"
"Them? Who knows? Some secret foreign thing. The guy who hired us looked demonic, he said. All creepy, like those ninja things they have in movies every now and then. Maybe the target was involved in some secret government affairs."
"Does it really matter?" There was a crunch as someone stepped on broken glass. "Come on. Let's go."
"Right." Footsteps died away as they left, and then it was silent. Ever so silent. Silent except for the soft plopping of water below her, and cricket sounds above.
Valerie couldn't cry. She just felt numb all over. Dead? They were dead? She allowed herself one muffled sob of anger with her father. "You fool! You should have shot him!"
That was all. Then, she climbed farther down, and sat on the concrete ledge, staring into the darkness of the water that swirled a few feet below her. Dead. They were all dead. What was she supposed to do now?
Wait two days. Use what I taught you to keep alive.
For two days she would sit down here. Then what? They hadn't done too much with stealth yet,but shecouldsteal food for a while. All she'd learned, really, was how to fight. Could she get a job training others, perhaps?
Valerie turned off the flashlight, and crossed her legs, sinking into her meditation position, and finding her chi. It would probably be best to choose a criminal occupation. Her father had done a few jobs for a man named Rivers. She could probably find his office.
Two nights later, she climbed out of the hole, and slipped towards her house. It was dark, and very still. Everything was still. The air felt musty, and damp. She felt a sprinkle on her foot, and hurried on, slipping through the shadows around the house until she was sure that it was empty, and that all her enemies were gone with their traps.
Slowly, she opened the back door. A jolt of fear ran over her. She wasn't sure why she was afraid. She only was.
The kitchen was empty. Valerie opened a cabinet, and took out a loaf of bread. She sawed mechanically at it with the bread knife on the counter until a hunk fell off, and then sat down at the table and ate it with a glass of milk she poured herself.
It felt like she'd been away on vacation, and only just come back. It seemed just as she'd left it. But it wasn't, she knew. Valerie finished her food, and then moved on.
In the hallway, she almost tripped over her father's body. He was pock-marked with bullets. His shirt had been almost shredded, there were so many, and the carpet and walls were stained an ugly brownish-red. Everything smelled funny. Not right.
Valerie swallowed, and darted past, lifting her foot hurriedly, so as not to step on his hand.
The stairs too, were stained with blood, but there was no body. At least someone had fought back. Valerie smiled grimly, and hoped the men had left carrying the bodies of several of their friends.
She threw up though, when she saw her mother. So much blood— and other things. The body was almost mangled beyond recognition. It was just the scraps of her robe that clung to the pieces that identified her. Why couldn't it have been one bullet? Just one?
Valerie turned around and leaned over the banister for a long time, not willing to look at the bits of her mother scattering the hall. She wanted to cry. She just wanted to cry, and cry, and cry until someone came and told her it would be alright, and that the dead people weren't really her family. That her family was waiting for her elsewhere.
Finally, she straightened, and walked down the hall, eyes on the doorway at the end so that she didn't have to look at what she was walking through. If only her brother were alive. Then she could keep on.
His bedroom was dark.
Step by step, she forced herself to his bed. Her scream was so loud it almost startled her. She half expected the dead bodies to call out, asking her what was wrong.
The tiny body of her brother was impaled by a long knife that pinned him to the bed. Stiff little fingers twisted by the pain were frozen in a groping plea for someone to help him and explain what had happened. To explain what he'd done to deserve everything.
Asking why no one came to help him. His tiny body was contorted around the knife in a spasm of pain that he had died in. All alone and frightened. All alone. Without her. Without his father. Without his mother. Without her! Asking why she didn't come. Asking why no one picked him up and held him and told him everything was going to be alright. Asking why no one answered his little cries for help. Asking why…
Valerie clenched her teeth, and buried her face in her hands, struggling desperately not to cry. "I'm sorry, baby! I didn't know! I didn't mean to! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!"
If only… if only they'd come in early from the practice round, and been there to stop the men who'd come and done this thing. If only they hadn't gone in the first place! If only they'd not been at home, but gone somewhere as a family! If only her father had shot that child when they first saw him! If only one small thing had been changed…
"Happy birthday," she whispered bitterly.
I think you understand now— about the even children bit. Don't worry though. Valerie will change.
P.S. I'm debating whether or not to drop the romance. I need your opinion. There was going to be some later, but is this really the story for that? Would it really add to the story or not?
You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)
