Realistic or Modern Till Death Do Us Part [ CLOSED ]

[Twincaty]

First came the visit.

The house was a white washed palace of immaculate stone, packed tightly together in a simplistic pattern. It’s interior was rittled with different hues of tan and beige pigment, along with the stereotypical throw pillows and other knickknacks with inspirational quotes. The bedrooms weren’t much different and neither were the people who lived there. The only sense of extreme liveliness was the dog, bouncing around the home with various toys. There were a few joyous exchanges but that were kept to a minimum considering the parents were more concerned with their daughters schooling and nothing more.
Chasida Taylor was presumed to be a child genius, and ever since that was discovered her life had been nothing but various tests, competitions and being used as a pawn. At least..that’s what she considered it to be. The days she wished to relax or go out to play like the other kids, she was forced to study, and practice various instruments so that her parents had more to boast about at their ridiculous PTA meetings.

Then, came the night.

It was during that cool breeze that passed through her bedroom window that she slowly rose up, the blood pulsating throughout the house. Ironically - blood then covered her body as death rang out around her. Blood spatters across her face and down her arms as she shot two clear bullets through her parents’ heads, point blank range. Even, getting rid of the dog. Normally, it would have been terrible, hearing of a dog disappearing but not in her case. As far as she knew, she was void of emotions.
Then, she disposed of the weapon before cleaning up after herself thoroughly.
It was not long before fabricated tears began to fall, forced adrenaline coursing through her as she dialed the number to the authorities. “Please, m-my parents are...”
“Are what ma’am? What’s your emergency?”
“I heard crashing, barking and then gunshots...p-please hurry, I’m hiding in my room..” it was a bit of a game to her, this whole ordeal but she needed to make it look real - that’s what she told herself as she gave her address and then sat back on her bed, waiting for the police to arrive.

Navarro

 

[Navarro]

Flashing lights and sirens pierced the night; Officer Rafael Navarro and his partner gunned it across town, cutting their way through traffic. This was the kind of call that made his job worthwhile - a violent home invasion in progress, and a young woman’s life hanging in the balance. And though he’d never been one for prayer, he found himself begging whoever was listening that this girl could stay safe and hidden until he arrived.

Upon their approach, they shut off the lights and sirens, as was protocol. A swarm of squad cars soon followed; the cops established a perimeter around the house. No one was getting out unseen. Amidst the palpable tension and rifles aimed at every exit, Rafael volunteered himself to go in first. His partner followed shortly behind him.

Raf cracked his neck and took a deep breath, steeling himself for what might lie ahead. Gun drawn and held at the ready, he entered the home. No sign of forced entry. Might’ve been someone they know, he thought. Scanning the rooms as he walked through, he saw no signs of burglary, either. No, this place was the picture of normalcy, the kind of home you’d see in a magazine.

The picture-perfect world shattered when he happened upon the poor dog. He bit his lip and narrowed his eyes, eager to get his hands on the bastard that did this.

His heart sunk as he ventured further. A couple, presumably the young woman’s parents – shot through the head at point blank. It was, in no uncertain terms, a mess. In his line of work, he’d seen things like this before; Hell, he’s done shit like this before. But it was, nonetheless, the kind of mess that felt seared into his mind, the kind that showed up uninvited when he was drifting off to sleep.

That poor girl, he thought, wondering if she’d seen her parents in this state. He couldn’t imagine being in her place – if anyone so much as laid a finger on his mother, he’d want that person’s head on a pike. The pain and terror that’s been inflicted upon this young lady was unforgivable; he was already concocting what he’d do if he got his hands on the perpetrator. Such things comforted him in times like this; times where he was brimming with anger at his own helplessness to save others. Pressing onwards, he came to the sole survivor’s room.

Voice wavering slightly, he announced, “Hello, miss? I’m with the police. I’m here to help.”

 

[Twincaty]

It was in the corner that Chasida stayed, her body in this unnatural state of calmness over the situation, only working herself up to be ready for when the time come. She has just murdered her parents..where was the normalcy in that. In fact - she’d been marked as odd from birth.

The thoughts of those moments leading up to the execution kept replaying through her mind, pride building up ever more slowly. It wouldn’t be long before the police got there and started to curse the scene for being so void of anything they could use to catch the killer.

She was avid in the sciences after all...cleaning up after herself was a gift. She was sure there was nothing linking her to the crime - unless of course, she incriminated herself..which would never happen.

Her bed perked up at the sound of sirens approaching her house as so she scooted off the bed and into the darkest corner of the room, pulling her knees up towards her chest. Her body then began to erupt into shivers and quaking, her eyes brimmed with water but not yet piling over. It was the look of fear she wanted to radiate to anyone who looked at her, and she surely played up the act the moment her door was pushed open.

“Did you catch him? Did you get the guy? A-are my parents okay?” She rushed out, voice raspy and unsteady. “Oh my god.....are they dead?” Now the tears fell, despite her knowing the truth.

Of course they’re dead Chasida, you killed them.

“No, no..no no no! They can’t be, if got to see them-mom! Dad!” Her voice carried out loudly, but her body reacted in a smaller way. Chasida pushed herself off the ground feeling clean from having just washed and dried herself off, then cleaning the sink and the bordering areas. Grabbing the doorknob, she swung herself around the door, attempting to push herself into the hallway so she could run to her parents to ‘grieve.’

More like admire your work, her subconscious snickered.

“They can’t be dead, they just can’t be! I won’t believe it!”

 

[Navarro]

Rafael couldn’t help but wince once he laid eyes upon her; at once glad to see she was alive, and at the same time, dreading delivering the news he had to bear. And though he fought to stay strong, to stay alert and ready to strike, his heart went out to her. It pained him to see a family that had just been torn apart, and it was made all the more real by the panic coursing through her veins and shattering her voice.

Her rapid-fire questions caught him off guard. He drew a breath, ready to answer, but caught himself. You can’t just tell someone your dog and parents have been murdered, not while they’re shivering in a dark corner. That’s just in poor taste. Before he had a chance to formulate a proper answer, she darted past him.

Past his partner, too; he lowered his gun and flattened himself against the wall to make way for her. Raf lowered his gun and gave chase, worried that her emotions would cloud her judgment; without realizing it, she could accidentally contaminate the crime scene by handling the bodies. And though it seemed cruel to restrain her, that’s what he needed to do to preserve the integrity of the evidence. It was their best chance at finding the perpetrator – the rest of the house was strangely devoid of clues.

While his partner proceeded to sweep the house, Rafael made an attempt to catch her and hold her; not aggressively, but as kindly as he could, as if giving a hug. He was a large man, broad shouldered and six-foot-five without shoes. And though he’d put on some weight in recent years, he had more than enough muscle – and skill – to hold someone in place.

Tensions were running high; any semblance of professionalism started to crumble. “I’m sorry, ma’am, they’re gone.” He tried to control his voice, yet found it straining. “I need to keep you here for your own safety - the suspect could still be onsite.” Still fighting to keep his emotions at bay, he explained of her parents’ room, “The evidence in there is all we’ve got to go on – it’s the best chance we’ve got of catching whoever did this. I’m sorry, I can’t let you in.”

 

[Twincaty]

Despite the knowledge that she got rid of all the evidence linking her to the crime, she still made her attempt to reach her parents. Around the corner, towards the stairs, she ran. Down the stairs, around another corner, and down a very long hallway that led towards the front of the house. Quickly, her feet moved back and forth as she kept going towards the place she left her parents, and she nearly got there too..until she felt arms around her waist.

It was powerful enough to keep her from moving, and if she didn’t know any better - she’d say was no longer on the ground. Strong..this is a first, she thought to herself, momentarily feeling herself slip from character as she looked up at him. “Let me go!” She whined, regaining her momentum. “You have no right to do this!” As she spoke, her fists balled up, hitting him across his pectoral muscles aggressively. “I need to see my parents, let me go! Let me-“ deciding to stop hitting him, she then rested for forehead against him continuing her ‘break-down’ from there.

To anyone else, their chest would have been heavy from the amount of grief they experienced, but to Chasida, the only thing that hurt was her head from forcing out all of those tears in order to fool those around her. There she kept her body, pushed against him tightly, hands on either side of her head so that no one could see the way her face relaxed as the tears still fell. The way her inner feelings reigned supreme, ignoring the fact that she was sniffling, supposedly in place of pain. “Catch the person who did this..” she spoke in a broken voice.

“Please..”

 

[Navarro]

Her voice rang in his ears, and though she fought, Rafael had to preserve the scene as best he could. It was all the physical evidence they would have to work with. His partner stood by, biting his lip and folding his arms. He had no chance of restraining her – he was barely 5’6” and though he was fit, he didn’t have the brute strength of Rafael. This was the part he hated the most – seeing the pain in the families of the victims. Among other factors, it drove him to collaborate with Rafael on their personal crime-fighting crusades.

Raf flinched when her first hit caught him off guard; he braced for the next strikes. Empathy brought a lump to his throat and welled up his eyes. And as her struggling ground to a halt, he let his body grow softer, and his hold gentler. “You can look; I understand, you should be able to look if you want to.” He took away one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry you have to see this.” He could barely begin to comprehend how he’d feel her place: the anger, the fear, the helplessness.

Forcing a swallow, he regained some semblance of control in his voice. “I will catch whoever did this.” He held her close and gave her back a reassuring stroke. “And I swear to you, I will make them pay.” He meant it from the bottom of his heart. His partner glanced over at him, and they shared a nod in agreement.

In order to make good on that promise, he knew he’d soon have to question her about everything she knew – enemies of the family, buried secrets, and the like. No one ever enjoyed it, but it was part of the process.