"I'm home!~"
A pair of feet skipped across the carpet, leaving behind it a trail of clothes and accessories. The blazer was the first to go. Then the bra- that pink fabric of doom that always gets too sweaty. Soon, a half naked Monika waltzed into the kitchen to greet her family.
There he was, sitting at the kitchen table. "Welcome back!," he chuckled. "Someone's in a good mood!"
"Mhm!," she sang. "Guessssss what happened at work?"
"You got a promotion! I'm very happy for you!"
Unfamiliar- yet a strange sort of comforting smell wafted in the air when she collapsed on the couch. It smelt of sunny picnics and happy memories, and Monika felt nostalgia buzz through her body. Needless to say, it wasn't the reason why she was so up and giddy today. Monika clutched her phone tight to her chest with a wide smile. She giggled like a jubilant schoolgirl.
A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. "What would you like for dinner tonight Mon?," the man asked.
"She's going to Paris. She's going to Paris! I can't believe it!"
"W-What?"
A million thoughts ran through her mind but it all ended with her, MC, and a large pizza. Lazily chilling on his couch, watching some dull show that would give them an excuse to do whatever their hearts desired. She thought about his vibrant blue eyes. The way that the lights would reflect off of them when she turned her head. He would look back at her and smile. Not because he forced himself to. But because her face alone brought nothing but happiness. And then they would lean forward at the same time...and lock lips.
No purple haired demon in sight. Maybe then he could admit it. That he loved her and no one else-
"-who's going to Paris dear?"
Monika growled. Her drunk smile contorted into a grotesque frown. The best part of her fantasy was interrupted by the same strained male voice. Male? No, it was slowly working its way up the register the closer Monika got to him.
In one motion she planted a palm on his chest and pushed him and the chair onto its back. He was practically pissing his pants when Monika knelt down to smell his face. His sweaty, deathly-pale face.
"...don't interrupt me."
She looked deadly serious. But at the flick of a switch, she was just as cheerful as before.
"Eleanoooor!~," she sang, skipping away. "Whatcha doin'?"
"NOOOOOO!," he screamed.
She pushed the door open and recoiled. She made a mental note to include a bucket and toilet paper next time.
"MMPHMH MMHM MMHMP!"
She carefully removed the duct tape from the little girl's face. "What was that?"
"DON'T TOUCH HIM!," she screamed with a distinct British accent. The family seemed to have moved in very recently.
"Shhh shh shh..." In the woman's mind, she thought it motherly to rest the tied up kid on her lap. Motherly...it was a strange thought to her. They shared the same hair colour, but that was pretty much it. She had baby blue eyes just like her father, tanned skin from hours of playing outside, and carefree freckles painting her cheeks. She kinda looked like a mini Sayori. But from where she was sitting, Eleanor's back against Monika's chest with her arms caressing locks of hair, the hair was the one thing they shared in common. It was enough to elicit some form of empathy from the girl with emerald eyes.
"It's okay...everything's going to be okay," she whispered.
Eleanor began struggling against her restraints and she locked eyes with the monster behind her. Her anger was suddenly replaced with overwhelming dread.
"Don't be afraid," Monika cooed. "I'm not going to hurt you. Or daddy."
"...b-b-but...M-Mom..."
"Aww. I'm not your mom. I promise I won't hurt you. Pinky promise."
"N-No...you hurt her..."
Monika's brow furrowed. "Oh yeah. I did do that."
The little girl was shaking like silverware in an earthquake. Not that Monika noticed. She couldn't help but begin fantasizing again. This time resting her chin on a head of hair. But that face- that smiling, annoying face belonging to Yuri kept popping up like a transparent overlay. Despite the fact that she was stabbing her again and again for the past ten minutes. But a quiet voice spoke up.
"You're...upset."
Monika smiled. "No I'm not."
"I get it. It's over some boy, isn't it?," Eleanor asked in a quiet, hesitant voice.
"No."
"I heard you saying his name over and over. You called him dumb."
She leaned away in surprise. "He isn't dumb," Monika muttered.
"It happened to me. He...is dumb. I told him that when...when the girl he was in love with left him."
It was Monika's turn to be a kid. "Love? Aren't you like ten?"
"Fifteen."
"Ooo...kay...? So what happened to him?"
"He's in love with me now." She giggled through her tears. "He's so dumb."
"And what happened to the girl?"
Eleanor did her best not to scream. "Please...don't kill me. I love him. I want to be with him."
Monika lightly pinched Eleanor's cheek like she had told a bad joke. "Aww...you're adorable." An idea came to her. Monika stood up, plucked the pink sparkly phone from Eleanor's makeup table and sat back down, this time facing her. She pointed the screen towards Eleanor's face.
"Tsk. Face ID and tears don't match huh?," she mumbled.
"Wha...what are you...?"
"Call him."
"What...?"
"Call. Your lover!~ Tell him...I don't know. Anything. Tell him how much you want to be with him. Tell him that you want to see him tomorrow. Tell him that you love him. Forever and ever," Monika said. Commanded almost.
Had it not been for her duct tape restraints, she would've scurried against the corner of the room. Instead, she began shaking even worse with downtrodden eyes. Her brain couldn't comprehend what Monika was asking her to do.
"No...NO!," she cried. "I CAN'T!"
Monika gently lifted Eleanor's face back up with her chin under a thumb and index finger. "Why not?," she sweetly asked.
"...I...I can't let him hear me like that. I don't want him to remember me like that."
"Remember-" Monika blinked in surprise. "You think I'm going to kill you?"
She nodded. But without a moment of hesitation Monika slapped Eleanor across the face, sending her tumbling on her side. The broken promise hurting Eleanor more than the stinging on her cheek. Monika knelt down ever further so that she could see Eleanor's face, partially hidden under clumps of hair.
"Call him. And I won't hurt you."
Eleanor grit her teeth and snarled right back. "...liar."
"Do it Eleanor. Or else."
"I'D RATHER DIE!," she screeched.
"You little-ARGH!" Monika tumbled backwards and hit her back against the edge of the bed. It was Eleanor's father- wrists raw and red, who had just shoved the brunette with the force of a speeding truck.
No one knew why he didn't go over there and enact justice. Monika was still on the ground, clutching at her torso, groaning in pain. He could've easily overpowered her, yet an invisible wall kept him from approaching. Like a hiker and a sleeping predator. He kept his daughter, now free from her restraints, behind him and didn't take his eyes off Monika.
"Arrggh...my...head...you shoved me?...Really?!...," Monika gasped with a cough. "God...that hurts..."
"Sweetie. Leave. Now," he commanded.
"YOU CAN KILL HER DADDY!," she screeched back. "SHE'S WEAK!"
"...yeah daddy...~," Monika giggled with a switchblade hidden in her palm. "I'm weak. Why don't you come over here?"
He was the very embodiment of a deer in the headlights. A deer in the doorway, more like. There was more white in his eyes than there were eyes. But he kept his breathing under control- something that Monika nodded in approval at, and calmly spoke. "Eleanor. Go to the kitchen."
Eleanor ran to do so, leaving the two adults to stare at each other. "Fraaaaank," Monika drawled. "Do it. You know you want to."
"I do Monika," he coolly replied. "I really do. But I know better. I'm going to lock you in this room. Just like you did to my daughter. Maybe if I calm down, I'll even call the police instead of leaving you in here to starve."
She gave a throaty laugh. "Call the police? You know what this looks like right? A young, beautiful woman locked in a stranger's house? Next to the body of her captor's wife?"
Frank's upper lip twitched. He saw pure evil in the murderer's eyes. An indifferent, empty gaze that didn't look human. He was one step away from losing it when Monika opened her mouth to say:
"Poor Helen. I bet she-"
SSSSHUNK! The blade tore through Monika's guts like it was made of paper, but she had no time to lay there a mess of screaming hair and blood. It was a frenzy. It was not clean and choreographed like the movies pretended. Frank scrambled on top of her and brought the kitchen knife up and down, up and down, screaming for the loss of his wife. Monika knew it was useless trying to stop it. He was 200 pounds of condensed fury. She had been stabbing him everywhere as well, but it did little to stop him.
She lost the battle to keep her neck hidden under her chin. All she could see through the cracks of Frank's hand covering her face, was his look of utter rage as he positioned the knife to her neck. Her soft, delicate neck. He pressed hard and-
BANG!
A deafening explosion for a single bullet. Frank's head snapped to the side. Red mist lingered in the air long after he collapsed on Monika's bleeding body, and just like that, he was dead.
"Took you long enough," Monika whined.
The men in blue uniforms wasted no time. "Are you alright ma'am?!," one of them asked. "Have you been stabbed?!"
"Wow, no I'm-"
"Put down the knife ma'am!"
"Oh lord. WINSTON!," she screeched with what was left of her energy. She lazily shoved the body off her and the policemen at the scene visibly recoiled at her wounds. "Where are you?!"
An elderly man sporting a navy blue police jacket casually walked into Monika's view, hands in his pockets and all. "Good God Monika," he said. "Can't give us a break, can you?"
Monika rolled her eyes in annoyance, before slumping down on the bloodied carpet.
CRACK CRACK CRUNCH!
Cracking her back after six hours of being stationary never got old.
Like she had trained Pavlov's dogs, several of her co-workers heard this as 'the end of the work-day'. It had been a running meme around the office. Natsuki was the hardest and most intuitive worker ever found by the FBI, and she was admired by almost everyone. Except for the ones who envied her.
She was distinct in that regard. That, and the casual pink hoodie she wore every day. She packed up her things in a briefcase and headed out the door. All the while exchanging idle chat with the people she worked with.
Vaughn for example, a man twice the size of Natsuki. "Good work today Miss Gushiken," he hummed cheerfully. "I could've never guessed your...unique list of suspects. I suppose a drink is out of the question for today as well?"
"Exactly right. Wanna go home," Natsuki replied.
"One of these days we'll get you to have a drink with us!," another agent piped up, followed by laughter.
"Keep dreaming Felix!"
The FBI headquarters she worked at was a weird place. It was a fairly innocuous building- one that you'd pass by on your way to work. No gates, no guards outside, no public display of it's enormous wealth. No, all of that was inside. It was made from glass, concrete and everything modern. Clean and professional. Equipped with the latest technologies every corporation had to offer. Equipped with the incredible ability to get anything from anywhere, anytime.
It was chaotic. At least in Natsuki's eyes. Every inch of the place, storey to storey, office to office had its own little story that Natsuki was once a part of. And it was the way she saw it instead of how it was now.
She exited the elevator and walked onto the main floor / lobby. There was the communal couches where her and Sayori would sometimes display PDA (public displays of affection) and where she connected the dots for a serial killer. She remembered falling into the water fountain on the first day of the job. She remembered scribbling down so much criminal analyst thought on the windows, only to get berated a day later for using permanent marker.
Good times. It really was her second home at this point. But nothing could beat her first.
"I'm home..."
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUMP!
Natsuki barely made it two feet into the house when her girlfriend ran down the stairs to kiss her on the lips. Judging by the way she lit up, Sayori could be classified as either a golden retriever or an SCP- one that is powered by the presence of the pink haired special agent.
The warmth and pleasure never got old. She was a bit disappointed when Sayori disconnected their lips to say: "I missed you baby...," like she was a neglected puppy. Despite their height difference, Natsuki had always been the more mature one in the relationship, considering she would work late hours, take care of all the bills and not to mention she worked for the FBI.
"Missed you too," Natsuki purred in her girlfriend's university hoodie. "What have you been up to?"
"No no no!," Sayori pouted. "That's not how this goes! You were supposed to ask what's for dinner, then ask for a back rub, then ask to rest your tired head on my lap until you pass out!"
Natsuki looked like she had been through hell. She had darker than dark bags under her eyes, her hair was greasy, and her suit and tie was dishevelled. But despite that, there was no stopping the smiles to be had from the silly girl. "Okay then. What's for dinner Say?"
"Mweuhehehe...me?"
"Smooooth," Natsuki deadpanned. "But I think I'll ravish you after my back rub."
Natsuki, in her teary state, looked up at her lover. She was positively gorgeous. And even more so, it all seemed so natural. Like she hadn't put any effort into it at all. Maybe that was just Natsuki talking, but if there was an image for the word 'beautiful' attached, Sayori would be it. She had grown her hair out to the length of her waist and it flowed to make her look like a goddess. She was wore glasses now, maybe because of natural aging or because she spent months staring at research papers day and night. An intelligent beauty for sure. And her eyes shone like literal diamonds. If you'd stared into them for long enough, anyone would restore their faith in humanity.
She used her fingers and mouth to explore every single part of Sayori's face. Just to make sure that she was alive.
Natsuki couldn't help but attach Sayori's vibrant face to the bodies at her crime scenes. It had punched her harder than any bullet ever had- witnessing a woman with coral pink hair, lying face down in a pool of blood. And with the emotionally gut-wrenching punches comes the accompanying feeling of agony welling up in her chest, and exploding into a torrent of tears from her eyes.
"God...I love you so much," Natsuki cried. "I love you I love you I love you. A million times I love you."
"H-Hey...I love you too. What's with all this sappiness? You're gonna make me cry," Sayori laughed.
"She...she looked exactly like you. I thought it was you..."
"What? Oh. Ohhh."
Sayori made a note to herself: "pamper with more love and affection than usual." More hugs, more anime-watching, good food, a lengthy manga reading session, and passionate sex to end the night. She felt a pang in her chest. She could only imagine what she would do if she saw anyone with pink hair on the ground with a pool of blood surrounding their head.
Natsuki leaned her body weight against her and they laid down. Only one pair of feet could be seen dangling over the edge of the couch. Natsuki was now resting her cheek against Sayori's chest, feeling the soft 'thump thump, thump thump' of her heart. It was the replacement to her cigarettes and drinks, and it worked ten times better. After seeing so many dead bodies. So many victims of murder...she realized how fragile everything really was, and it made her appreciate life a lot, lot more.
"Baby girl? You asleep?," Sayori cooed.
"..."
"Pfft...you know I've known you for a while now? There's no pretending."
Shit. Natsuki could never know what gave it away. She brushed away the lock of lover's hair shielding her eyes. Of course, when she holds onto Sayori that tightly it's impossible not to notice. Natsuki was in her own little place. Places where she was familiar. Crime scenes with the smell of metal in the air.
Natsuki felt a finger poke her rib. "Come on. Spill. Or else," Sayori said.
"Or else what?," Natsuki snorted.
"You don't want to know.~"
"Maybe I do."
"You can say goodbye to your precious bento boxes."
"You wouldn't."
"I would." Sayori sat herself up and Natsuki followed suit. "Seriously baby. What's going on? I'm worried."
Natsuki looked down at the fingers interlocked with hers. She furrowed her brow. "We...promised each other we'd tell the truth right?"
"Yeaaah? Oh...oh no. Please no," Sayori gasped.
"You might be in danger because of me," Natsuki said.
"...whuh? Oh. Phew!," she sighed in relief. "Thank God it wasn't- that other thing I was thinking about."
"I've been looking into some things Say. Things that the higher-ups don't want me looking into."
"What's this about?"
"A conspiracy."
"World-renown detective senses a conspiracy? Might as well be fact then. What is it?," Sayori asked.
"...I think there's a murderer on the loose. And the FBI are helping them."
AN: Thanks Kwhdqoshsnampsj for the review!