2016… the year I'll have the easiest time writing a 6 over the 5 every time I write 2015 by accident.
Heya folks it's Watermalone here with a brand new chapter of Silhouettes!
As previously mentioned, this will slightly different from what is expected of this series, as you may know I plan on introducing a certain character I believe to be most fitting for the atmosphere of this story.
And without further ado, I present the start of a brand new tale. A murder, a suspect, and a dark conspiracy awaits us in the cold underbelly of Echo Valley…
New Year's Resolution: TAKE OVER DISNEY AND OWN SVTFOE SO I CAN MAKE STARCO CANON MUAHAHAHAHA! Wait… did I say that out loud?
Innocence. The first word that came to mind when she walked in.
Late in the afternoon, I had just finished up all the paperwork for the day. Well, if you count stamping a bunch of giant red "REJECTED" signs on every single goddamn sheet.
Shit, I need a drink.
Right before I stood up to leave, this… dame waltzes in like it's no one's business. For Pete's sake, it's my business. 8 hours spent in this rat's nest of an office and I'll be damned if I spend another second here.
Long golden hair, bright seafoam-green sundress, sparkling blue eyes, clearly from a rich family…
What the hell could she possibly want?
"Ahem… Excuse me, mister…" She stared at the palm of her hand, covered in various scribbles and notes. "Wainwright... Is it?" Oh this oughta be good.
"Yeah, the one and only, what do you want?" I sighed.
"I need you to do a bit of… research for me."
My eyes rolled over instinctively. Why did everyone feel the need to act so coy? Like there was some secret guilt that laid beneath the front of professionalism and haughtiness.
"I'm a private investigator. You either want me to spy on someone or stare at boring financial records for hours on end because you think there's something 'fishy' going on in town. So which is it?"
The girl sputtered. "We-well... yes b-but.."
"Yeah, yeah, you and every other 'concerned citizen' in this hellhole."
She narrowed her eyes at my crass statement. "No need to be snappy, I'm the one bringing you business after all."
Check and mate.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, exasperated by this clearly pointless argument. "Fine, I'm sorry. I've just had a rough day alright?"
Her eyes lit up brilliantly once again, revealing the youthful glow behind it. "It's no problem… after all, we all have something biting our rears…"
Truer words have never been spoken.
"Alright, so what brings you here? And don't say 'research' because that'll most likely deter me from showing any signs of interest in your case."
She scoffed in annoyance. Reaching into the small star shaped purse slung over her shoulder, she pulled out a small newspaper clipping and handed it to me.
"Ever seen this boy before?"
I examined the article, cut out in a specific shape and manner, clearly to prevent the viewer from gaining any biased information from the actual news lines.
Whatever. The boy in question was indeed familiar, a thin yet somewhat athletic build, what appeared to be a Latino heritage, a little mole on the right side of his face. Couldn't possibly be much older than a teenager…
"No... Doesn't quite ring a bell. Why?"
"His name," she paused (a bit too dramatically, might I add), "is Marco Diaz."
Marco… Diaz… "Son of Raphael and Angie Diaz…"
"Yes. So you've heard of him."
"Heard of him? Who hasn't! It was all over the news 'bout a couple years ago. 'Delinquent boy murders his parents in malicious intent'. Question is… why are you so interested in him?"
I could see that was perhaps a bit too painful of a question for her to answer. Her lip trembled, her eyes darted to the floor, she looked as though she were to cry any second.
But why? Was he a good friend of hers? How could this girl possibly benefit from knowing a... criminal…
Unless…
"You don't think he did it."
Her ears perked up instantly. "YES! Uh… I mean… O-of course… Which is why I wanted to recruit your investigative services to dig up what actually happened."
Okay, so she obviously has an *ahem-* 'thing' for this 'Marco' boy but… it's relatively trivial compared to what could've happened years ago. So why now?
I frowned, looking at the sheet of newspaper again. The boy seemed lost in the photo, confused, yet still glowing with brilliancy, as if he had a bit of a reckless streak, perhaps even a couple family issues, but kind hearted nonetheless.
Certainly not the face of a killer.
Every fiber inside my being screamed to take the case, to satisfy my curiosity and, not to mention, it appeared to be rather of dire matter to, whoever this girl was…
Then my gaze met hers. She looked tormented on the inside past those clear blue eyes. Further inspection revealed dark lines beneath said eyes, hastily covered with a bit of makeup, a rather straight-lined expression, implying a lack of smiling in her days, all oddly counteracted by her interesting choice of dress and demeanor. Her attire practically exploded with vivaciousness and flamboyancy, but there was a sort of… hesitancy in her poise and action.
"Who are you?" The question was blunt and vague, but my heart demanded explanation. If, and I repeat, if I were to be emotionally invested in his case, this girl had better be able to give me a damn good reason as to why.
"Wh-...Who am I?" She blinked twice, letting that question sink in for a moment before taking a somewhat defensive stance. "Who are YOU? What kind of stupid freaking question is that?"
I raised an eyebrow. Strike one.
"My business is my business alone and you have absolutely no right to question it! You think I'd go around asking without the slightest amount of second thought who the heck you are?!"
Strike two.
"You know what? You wanna know who I am? I'm a girl who's sat through piles upon piles of the same bullcrud everyone doles out on me on a daily. I'm a girl who's had everything taken away yet still forced to breathe and blink like everyone else in this godforsaken planet! But I'm also a girl who found a reason to start caring about life and what it's worth. And you know what else? I'm a girl who's had enough of you and your attitude and demands an answer. Are you going to help me or not?!"
Passion… She definitely knocked that out of the park.
I smirked, my vision refocused on the photo. "He means that much to you huh?"
Her expression said it all. "Wh-what do you mean?"
"I mean, who is Marco Diaz exactly?"
"Are you asking me ridiculous questions again? Because I swear I'm about this close to-"
"Hey, this is part of the investigative procedure. Who is Marco Diaz?"
"Investigative… So that means you'll do it?!" Her eyes began to shine with hope.
"Depends. As with any good 'investigation', I need as many facts as possible, and first and foremost, I need to know why Marco Diaz is innocent. So tell me. Convince me."
"I-I can't explain.. I mean… I just know.. he.."
"Mhm… That's what I thought. You don't know the first thing about him."
"That's not true! You can't just-"
"Then don't tell me why he's innocent, tell me who he is."
In truth, I didn't really need a reason. Just a simple analysis of the situation gave me all the clues I required for a verdict. Marco Diaz, about 18 years old by now, a wanted criminal left wandering the streets after being chased away by countless law enforcement officers and such. This girl, clearly suppressed by a lifetime of responsibilities and expectations within a high-demanding upper class family must have met Marco somehow and, within the short interaction, became well acquainted. She fell in love with a charismatic and relatable character that showed her the slightest bit of empathy and now she's set out to prove his innocence. However there couldn't possibly be any mention, prior to, regarding criminality which meant there must have been some convincing factor that completely disregarded the concept of Marco being a murderer.
If she could show the same passion in describing Marco's character as she did herself, well, that's more than what I need.
She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Marco… is… He's a stubborn, sarcastic, intrusive and arrogant turd. But at the same time, he's an understanding, protective, and selfless… well, turd. I-I know this might not change your opinion of him, but please, you're the only person I can turn to! This isn't about me, it's about justice! Marco Diaz deserves justice in a cruel and unforgiving world that never stopped and listened to him. He's a broken, misunderstood, and lonely soul who was left abandoned on the trail of life, an idea that even you should be able to comprehend! Please, Mr. Wainwright-"
I held up a hand. "Stop."
Her eyes pooled with tears, her head hung low. "O-okay… I understand… Thanks anyways mister-"
I outstretched my arm towards her, surprising her. "Please, call me Patrick. And I'll be damn honored to take your case."
And right as soon as those words came out, I see a flash of gold and before I know it, I'm being strangled in the most bone-crushing hug I have ever experienced.
"OH THANK YOU THANK YOU!"
I honestly couldn't tell whether or not she was too excited or too loud to notice my cries of panic, but either way, my muffled and gagged "Let go" went completely ignored. And damn I swear I was barely seconds away from flying face-first through those Pearly Gates before she finally released me, a rush of air expanding my lungs to normal capacity.
"Oka-okay." I sputtered and coughed. "First, never hug me like that again. Second of all, before you thank me, you had better know what you're getting yourself into."
She nodded quickly. "Of course, I mean what else is there to this whole business?"
"No, I mean I'm not the law. I'm a private investigator." Given her confused expression, she clearly thought the two were the same. Rookie mistake. "I'm sorry but the best I can do for you is gather a bit of information. What you do with that, I can't help."
She raised an eyebrow. "Then how are you better than a cop?"
Oh, she did not just…
"BECAUSE COPS DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANYTHING OTHER THAN STUFFING THEIR GODDAMN FACES WITH DONUTS IN THIS SHITSHOW OF A TOWN!"
Aaaand I regretted shouting instantly.
But, to my defense, I had every right to. It's true, I hate police officers in this town. Bunch of low-life, no-talent, gun-slinging hicks who mow down anyone who gives them a second look. Corrupt and merciless, the 'law' in this place was broken. Broken beyond repair like a china vase that you accidentally knocked over at your grandma's place. Good for business, bad when you get a parking ticket.
Sensing the terror that hung in the air, I softened my expression. "I-I'm sorry, again. If you couldn't tell, I got a… a 'thing' against cops."
She remained silent. Her eyes scanned me once, twice over. Like I was some freak show side-attraction at the old carnivals you used to pay a nickel to prod with a stick.
I quickly tried to change the subject. "So, anyways, if you still want to go through with this, I can get you the information. That, I can guarantee as much, but what happens afterwards, I can't be held accountable for."
In all honesty, I was expecting her to just drop the subject, spin on her heel and slam the door on her way out.
But she didn't. She stood there. Like she was contemplating something behind those seemingly ditzy eyes.
"All right Patrick. I trust you."
Damn shocker right there.
"But, one condition." Ah the sticker. The 'fine print'.
"You're gonna tell me who you are."
"Wait, what?" The words slipped before I could even formulate the thought.
"You heard me. Tomorrow, coffee at the B&B on Wenton, you're telling me everything."
Hmmm, this tale took quite the… interesting turn… perhaps there was more to the whole 'dumb blonde' act than I thought…
"Alright then, you got yourself a deal there Miss…" I offered a handshake when a strange thought occurred to me.
I still never got her name…
She grasped my hand firmly before stating:
"Butterfly, Star Butterfly." And as quickly as she had fluttered into my little slice of hell, she was gone, leaving me completely dumbfounded.
Butterfly…
Oh shit.
This tale just took quite the interesting turn indeed.
So? What'd you guys think? I know this story looks as if it will be centred more so on my OC but I hope that doesn't throw you, my audience, off here.
My intentions are to continue this story, as I do have a rough draft of chapter "4" sitting in my phone, however before I release it, I'd like to hear feedback from all of you guys whether or not this story has any potential or not.
Also, for those of you concerned with my future update regarding Ripples (shameless promotion again…), I am glad to say that I am currently writing my next chapter for that, and if all goes well, I will most likely be alternating stories for which I update per week, every Friday!
And as always, reviews and comments are deeply appreciated, I apologize for all the swearing, Patrick is a rather… vulgar character as you will learn to find out why possibly in my next chapter of Silhouettes!