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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 7, 2019 23:32:00 GMT -5
¸.¤*¨¯¨*×.…...................................
.×*¨¯¨*¤.¸(…….`·-×´……..................c a r d i n a l
`×-·´…….))……×*¨¯¨*×.¸……............................................
¸.×*¨¯¨*•.¸ .. ·*¨¯¨*·,)..........A single red Rose
,·*¨¯¨*·...((….·*¨¯¨*·,`¤.,¸_¸,.•´.............. Blossomed into a Cardinal
`+.,¸_¸,.¤´`¤.,¸_¸,.+´ .................................... And took to the Sky P a r t 1: The SetupOcean Pier, Bayport, New Jersey. 6:14 a.m.
My associates and I were in place. The morning promised a stunning display, and I made a mental note to stay focused on the task at hand and not let even the glory of an Atlantic sunrise distract me.
Right on time, the leader of our little ring walked by with the target - female, 5’6”, blonde hair, brown eyes. She was carefree, unsuspecting, playing right into our leader’s hands. My adrenaline spiked. All was going according to plan.
Once they had passed my hiding place, I shifted to get a good visual. Two other members hid in strategic locations around the pier. A fourth member stood leaning against the railing, his face hidden so that he could get closer to the target without being recognized.
She had to remain as unsuspecting as possible.
Smoothly, without a hitch, the target was lead into place. I hoped that my excited shaking wouldn’t affect my aim as I pointed and made ready.
I took my first shot as Frank Hardy got down on one knee and pulled out a ring. The target, Callie Shaw, reacted just as we all had expected. A gasp, hands covering her mouth, then, barely audible through the ocean breeze from my station, she tearfully said yes.
The four hidden associates of us caught every moment on various technological devices. We continued shooting as Chet, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, and myself neared the newly engaged couple to congratulate them - and reveal to Callie how elaborate this scheme of Frank’s had been.
She was focused on nothing but him, though, and as we got closer I got my best shot – Callie and Frank outlined against the Atlantic Ocean in all its glory. That glory right now was crowned with the rising sun, casting pinks, oranges, and golds across the sea below and the clouds above.
Scout, Frank’s seeing-eye dog, sat behind Frank, looking away from the couple, tongue lolling out of a relaxed smile. She seemed to approve.
I put my camera away as Callie caught sight of the person Scout was staring at, Mr. Hardy. She looked around and realized that he wasn’t the only one who had been watching the proposal.
“Nancy?” she said, catching sight of me. “Oh, goodness, who all was in on this?” Callie asked, beaming, still fidgeting with the ring Frank had given her.
Chet reached Frank and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Someone with good taste had to help the blind guy find the perfect ring,” he said.
“Which is why I didn’t ask Chet for help,” Frank said.
Chet gave Frank a playful shove. “Congratulations, Callie,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said, still beaming, and also still staring down at her ring. Mrs. Hardy reached the group and took Callie’s left hand into her own.
“Oh dear,” said Laura with a small smile. I saw it too; the ring was only about halfway on Callie’s finger and definitely wasn’t going on any further than that.
Callie giggled. “Uh, who was it that helped the blind guy pick out this ring?”
Chet’s smile faded ever so slightly. “What’s wrong?”
Callie held up her hand for all to see, and realization dawned on all faces but Frank’s. As everyone else let out versions of the enlightened, “Ooooooh,” Frank said, “What is it?”
“The ring is too small,” Callie said.
“Oh,” her fiancé responded. He elbowed Chet. “Thanks, roomie.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who helped you pick it out!”
The one who did help Frank pick it out took the ring from Callie and handed it to Frank. “Here,” said Mrs. Hardy. “Tonight, you and Callie go on a special date and have it sized. Crisis averted and you get extra time together. All things working together for good. This was Providence, see?”
I laughed at Laura’s antics as Frank pocketed the again-boxed ring and suddenly found himself with his arms full of Callie. Scout, a bit startled by the movement, jumped up and barked.
“Better get used to that, girl,” Chet told the dog.
“I guess this means you’ll still marry me,” Frank said to Callie.
“Oh, yeah,” Callie replied. “But we’re still getting that ring sized.”
“But first,” Mr. Hardy said, “Nana Jo’s biscuits and gravy aren’t going to eat themselves.”
“Breakfast!” Chet exclaimed, and lead the charge to Bayport’s most beloved breakfast joint. Frank followed behind with a grin plastered on his face, one arm around Callie and the other being pulled along by Scout. Fenton and Laura held each other, too, following a bit behind.
I realized then with a pang there was only one thing missing. Joe.
We all wish he’d come out of that office of his every now and then, but it seems like he only ever does to chase after Sognitrico. Frank had forgiven them for causing his blindness a long time ago. Joe hadn’t been able to.
Anyone who tried to convince Joe that he was on a bad trajectory was quickly reminded of how dangerous Gina, codename Scaramuccia, was. Not even Iola could talk sense to him. So she became his secretary instead. Everyone else, Joe distanced himself from. Couldn’t let anything stand in the way of bringing down someone as ruthless as Gina, he said.
So I followed behind the others, glad to let the joy of this moment help me forget for a while the black clouds that tried to shoo the light away.
·,¸ ¸ , · ´ ¯ `·´ ¯ ` · , ¸ ¸,·
After a very hardy breakfast (in more ways than one), I had some adulting to do. The vet, the grocery store, and the car wash all got a visit from me before I pulled my blue convertible into the garage of my suburban Bayport single-family home. Living in Bayport made my husband and me feel safer, with all the enemies we shared. Having the Hardy family only fifteen minutes away, we knew that there would always be someone close who could come to our rescue, should it ever be needed. And of course, seeing the Hardy boys more often – or Frank, at least – wasn’t such a bad thing, either.
I pulled as many grocery bags out of my convertible as my arms could carry. The sound of Togo’s bark, as always, was the first thing to greet me as I approached the door leading to the kitchen. It was a wonderful thing to always be so enthusiastically welcomed home, but I never won a game of “open the door before the person inside the house can” because of it. Since my arms were currently full, I didn’t mind so much when the door opened and Hannah’s eager hands reached out to help bear my burden.
“Welcome home, Nancy!” she greeted me warmly. “What kind of goodies did you bring me today?”
“Only your favorites! And hopefully the right ingredients for some strawberry pie.” As I spoke, I returned to the garage to retrieve more goods from my day out. The whole while, my now elderly, always-smiling, tail-wagging little Togo was at my feet.
His muzzle stood out in gray against his black fur but his soul was young, and I hoped that spirit of his would keep him with me longer than the prognosis the vets gave me over his heart problems. Either way, he was with me today, so today I would enjoy him.
I entered the kitchen with a second armload of groceries. That was when I first noticed the smell of dinner in the kitchen, incredible beyond description. Hannah was outdoing herself as always. Despite the physical limitations a stroke from two years ago had imposed on Hannah, she refused to let a day go by without doing something to make life in the Cardinal home a taste of heaven on earth.
“What delightful thing are you cooking tonight?” I asked her as I placed my grocery bags on the marbled countertop.
As I asked, Hannah lowered the oven door just enough to peak at her work of art. “Chicken pot pie,” she said. “The vegetables in it came straight out of my garden.”
She straightened to observe her favorite retreat through the window above the sink. As the sun lit up her gray hair and caused her face to glow, I was reminded of what a gift this woman was. She had been like a mother to me since the death of my own mom when I was young, but since cancer had taken my dad five years ago, she had become even more precious to me. If it weren’t for Will, she would be the only family I had left.
Well, only human family, I thought, as I pulled out Togo’s heart medication. As always, he eagerly gobbled up the little pill. It seemed pretty bizarre to me, but maybe my faithful little dog just trusted that everything I gave him was a treat.
Satisfied, Togo wondered out of the kitchen, likely to his favorite spot on the couch with the best view of the front yard.
Hannah, meanwhile, was sorting out the things I had brought home so that they could be efficiently put away. I wasn’t going to have it.
“Oh, Hannah. Go take a break! I can get these things put away!”
Hannah waved me off. “I need something to do while I wait for dinner to finish.”
“I can handle pulling a pie out of the oven. Go enjoy your garden for a while!”
“All right, all right. But only if you agree to come out and tell me about the proposal!”
I smiled. “Deal. Just let me finish up in here.”
Satisfied, Hannah hobbled out the door to the garden swing Will and I had gotten her for Mother’s Day.
I smirked at the groceries in front of me. They were going to wait. I pulled out a single item and skipped into the hallway, past the living room (where, as I suspected, Togo was watching over his territory from the comfort of the couch), past the back door, past the staircase. Then, just before reaching my destination, I paused.
On one side of me was the bathroom. On the other side was a wall full of the people I loved the most.
My favorite picture was in the middle. It had captured a moment in my life that I knew I would never forget. I was there in my wedding dress, tears running down my radiant face as I stared into the eyes of the man across from me. William Henry Cardinal, my sandy-haired, stormy-eyed Will. Those gray eyes of his looked intently back into mine, the expression on his face underlining how seriously he took the words he had spoken.
The third person in the picture was my thin and frail dad, holding both of our hands in his own. His eyes were on Will.
“Love her enough for the both of us,” my dad had commissioned.
“I will,” my groom swore. Five years later, Will still kept his word.
Dad would have been such an amazing grandpa. My heart ached at the thought. But when it was followed by the thought of the incredible father Will was going to make, I snapped out of my reverie and with a giddy grin skipped into the bathroom behind me. I had a mystery to solve.
In minutes I was staring down at the pregnancy indicator I had purchased that morning. My hunch was correct. We were going to have a little baby Cardinal.
It was all I could do to not start screaming with excitement. I set the tester down, danced a little bit, then, calmly and coolly as possible, stepped out of the bathroom to go talk to Hannah.
I slid open the back door. “Hannah! Guess what mystery I just solved!”
She said something but I didn’t catch it, because that same moment, Togo started barking and the doorbell rang. “Oh, hang on,” I said, closing the door behind me.
I rushed to the front of the house and opened the front door. When I saw who was there, I had to fight the instinct to slam the door shut and call the police.
Black hair. Black eyes. Black clothes. A face so beautiful it seemed to radiate purity. Yet this woman could be nothing but pure evil incarnate.
Gina.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
You guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuys. CARDINAL IS HERE!!! Only took me like four years. Which is kinda poetic because it took me four years between finishing "Eleven Regrets" and posting "One Flower". Haha. Must be my number. WATCH OUT, 2023.
As always, shout out to Manic Drive and their song "Eleven Regrets" which inspired this whole thing. That song is going to mean so much to me forever at this point, I think. Haha. But! There is a second song that was mentioned in the "Eleven Regrets" AE that influenced the direction of Cardinal: "Life After Death and Taxes" by Relient K (awesome song even if the title sounds like a political statement). Other backstory and inspiration will be mentioned later if I remember. XD (I am so put together right now.)
Sooooooooooo fair warning: this isn't a G rated story. Haha. I'd put it at like, PG-13. This is mostly because of violence. It never gets graphic, but it does suggest some graphic things, so I guess it just depends on how wild and uncontrollable your imagination is. I also hint at suicide at times (sometimes very obviously, but never graphically). I'll try to remember to leave warnings on chapters where that is a thing, in case anyone who happens to read this might struggle with that. I'm going to try to get this story approved on HeR as it is, but I honestly doubt it'll pass. Baha. XD So you guys might be the privileged few who get the REAL version of Cardinal. Baha. XD However, language is squeaky-clean and so is pretty much everything else as far as I can remember. XDXDXD
That said, I also want to say that I'm not just blatantly breaking the board rules and get to do whatever I want because I'm a moderator. I get to do whatever I want because Trey doesn't scare me. *shrugs* KIDDING. I'M KIDDING. I mean he doesn't scare me but I don't get to do whatever I want. Long story short... the actual rules for the boards don't match the listed rules. XD And maybe some day eventually one of us will change the listed board rules to reflect what they really are but who knows. XD
Each of the segments I post are going to be pretty long. Sorry for those who don't like long chapters. You're welcome to those who do. XD Also, I'm hoping to finish this before August 20th... and I haven't decided on a posting schedule... and I actually don't even know how many sections I'm going to post because I don't have chapters just... sections...
I planned this out SO CAREFULLY you can tell. Maybe I'll have things more figured out by the next time I post. Maybe not. XD At least I have Cardinal completely finished. XDXDXD
I welcome all friendly criticism! Anything from tiny typos to gaping plot holes. So don't be afraid to let me have it. As long as you're being nice. Elsewise I might have to go all moderator on you.
But hey, someone post something at least often enough that I don't have to break the "no triple posting" rule... 'cause... then we'd have to change another rule.  KIDDING.
Mmmmmmmkay welp. BYE!
♥♥♥
~olivia~
P.S. Also, just for fun, here's a cover I made for Cardinal. Baha.
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Post by 🌸 Ρєиєℓοрє 🌸 on Jul 8, 2019 0:17:31 GMT -5
IT'S HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE!!!  Love how the first scene starts off like a stakeout. Like an assassin stakeout. O.O Callie's poor ring. XD Eww, breakfast. Glad they enjoyed it though. XD Awww, Hannah and Togo. <3 NANCY AND WILL ARE HAVING A BABY EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. NOOOOOOOOOOO GINA RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN. |
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56 
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 8, 2019 11:02:42 GMT -5
¸.¤*¨¯¨*×.…...................................
.×*¨¯¨*¤.¸(…….`·-×´……..................c a r d i n a l
`×-·´…….))……×*¨¯¨*×.¸……............................................
¸.×*¨¯¨*•.¸ .. ·*¨¯¨*·,)..........A single red Rose
,·*¨¯¨*·...((….·*¨¯¨*·,`¤.,¸_¸,.•´.............. Blossomed into a Cardinal
`+.,¸_¸,.¤´`¤.,¸_¸,.+´ .................................... And took to the Sky P a r t 1: The SetupOcean Pier, Bayport, New Jersey. 6:14 a.m.
My associates and I were in place. The morning promised a stunning display, and I made a mental note to stay focused on the task at hand and not let even the glory of an Atlantic sunrise distract me. As someone who lives in a place where I see a lot of Atlantic sunrises I don't see the appeal there sir.
Right on time, the leader of our little ring walked by with the target - female, 5’6”, blonde hair, brown eyes. She was carefree, unsuspecting, playing right into our leader’s hands. My adrenaline spiked. All was going according to plan.
Once they had passed my hiding place, I shifted to get a good visual. Two other members hid in strategic locations around the pier. A fourth member stood leaning against the railing, his face hidden so that he could get closer to the target without being recognized.
She had to remain as unsuspecting as possible.
Smoothly, without a hitch, the target was lead into place. I hoped that my excited shaking wouldn’t affect my aim as I pointed and made ready.
I took my first shot as Frank Hardy got down on one knee and pulled out a ring. The target, Callie Shaw, reacted just as we all had expected. A gasp, hands covering her mouth, then, barely audible through the ocean breeze from my station, she tearfully said yes.
The four hidden associates of us caught every moment on various technological devices. We continued shooting as Chet, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, and myself neared the newly engaged couple to congratulate them - and reveal to Callie how elaborate this scheme of Frank’s had been. I hate you so much right now Olivia.... so much. XD
She was focused on nothing but him, though, and as we got closer I got my best shot – Callie and Frank outlined against the Atlantic Ocean in all its glory. That glory right now was crowned with the rising sun, casting pinks, oranges, and golds across the sea below and the clouds above.
Scout, Frank’s seeing-eye dog, sat behind Frank, looking away from the couple, tongue lolling out of a relaxed smile. She seemed to approve.
I put my camera away as Callie caught sight of the person Scout was staring at, Mr. Hardy. She looked around and realized that he wasn’t the only one who had been watching the proposal.
“Nancy?” Wow I wasn't expecting it to be Nancy... for some reason I thought it was Joe Hardy. X) she said, catching sight of me. “Oh, goodness, who all was in on this?” Callie asked, beaming, still fidgeting with the ring Frank had given her.
Chet reached Frank and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Someone with good taste had to help the blind guy find the perfect ring,” he said.
“Which is why I didn’t ask Chet for help,” Frank said.
Chet gave Frank a playful shove. “Congratulations, Callie,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said, still beaming, and also still staring down at her ring. Mrs. Hardy reached the group and took Callie’s left hand into her own.
“Oh dear,” said Laura with a small smile. I saw it too; the ring was only about halfway on Callie’s finger and definitely wasn’t going on any further than that.
Callie giggled. “Uh, who was it that helped the blind guy pick out this ring?”
Chet’s smile faded ever so slightly. “What’s wrong?”
Callie held up her hand for all to see, and realization dawned on all faces but Frank’s. As everyone else let out versions of the enlightened, “Ooooooh,” Frank said, “What is it?”
“The ring is too small,” Callie said.
“Oh,” her fiancé responded. He elbowed Chet. “Thanks, roomie.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who helped you pick it out!”
The one who did help Frank pick it out took the ring from Callie and handed it to Frank. “Here,” said Mrs. Hardy. “Tonight, you and Callie go on a special date and have it sized. Crisis averted and you get extra time together. All things working together for good. This was Providence, see?”
I laughed at Laura’s antics as Frank pocketed the again-boxed ring and suddenly found himself with his arms full of Callie. Scout, a bit startled by the movement, jumped up and barked.
“Better get used to that, girl,” Chet told the dog.
“I guess this means you’ll still marry me,” Frank said to Callie.
“Oh, yeah,” Callie replied. “But we’re still getting that ring sized.”
“But first,” Mr. Hardy said, “Nana Jo’s biscuits and gravy aren’t going to eat themselves.”
“Breakfast!” Chet exclaimed, and lead the charge to Bayport’s most beloved breakfast joint. Frank followed behind with a grin plastered on his face, one arm around Callie and the other being pulled along by Scout. Fenton and Laura held each other, too, following a bit behind.
I realized then with a pang there was only one thing missing. Joe. I love Joe so much...
We all wish he’d come out of that office of his every now and then, but it seems like he only ever does to chase after Sognitrico. Frank had forgiven them for causing his blindness a long time ago. Joe hadn’t been able to. I had to think about if that made sense with what I know of the Hardy Boys personalities and now that I have thought I can definitely see Frank growing up into a man who believes that forgiveness is the right path but Joe still being clouded by anger and a need for answers and such.
Anyone who tried to convince Joe that he was on a bad trajectory was quickly reminded of how dangerous Gina, codename Scaramuccia, was. Not even Iola could talk sense to him. So she became his secretary instead. Everyone else, Joe distanced himself from. Couldn’t let anything stand in the way of bringing down someone as ruthless as Gina, he said.
So I followed behind the others, glad to let the joy of this moment help me forget for a while the black clouds that tried to shoo the light away.
·,¸ ¸ , · ´ ¯ `·´ ¯ ` · , ¸ ¸,·
After a very hardy breakfast (in more ways than one), Olivia I hate you so much right now. That joke was unforgivable. I had some adulting to do. The vet, the grocery store, and the car wash all got a visit from me before I pulled my blue convertible into the garage of my suburban Bayport single-family home. Living in Bayport made my husband and me feel safer, with all the enemies we shared. Having the Hardy family only fifteen minutes away, we knew that there would always be someone close who could come to our rescue, should it ever be needed. And of course, seeing the Hardy boys more often – or Frank, at least – wasn’t such a bad thing, either.
I pulled as many grocery bags out of my convertible as my arms could carry. The sound of Togo’s bark, Togo must be a pretty old dog at this point. as always, was the first thing to greet me as I approached the door leading to the kitchen. It was a wonderful thing to always be so enthusiastically welcomed home, but I never won a game of “open the door before the person inside the house can” because of it. Since my arms were currently full, I didn’t mind so much when the door opened and Hannah’s eager hands reached out to help bear my burden.
“Welcome home, Nancy!” she greeted me warmly. “What kind of goodies did you bring me today?”
“Only your favorites! And hopefully the right ingredients for some strawberry pie.” As I spoke, I returned to the garage to retrieve more goods from my day out. The whole while, my now elderly, always-smiling, tail-wagging little Togo was at my feet. And I was right! XD
His muzzle stood out in gray against his black fur but his soul was young, and I hoped that spirit of his would keep him with me longer than the prognosis the vets gave me over his heart problems. Either way, he was with me today, so today I would enjoy him.
I entered the kitchen with a second armload of groceries. That was when I first noticed the smell of dinner in the kitchen, incredible beyond description. Hannah was outdoing herself as always. Despite the physical limitations a stroke from two years ago had imposed on Hannah, she refused to let a day go by without doing something to make life in the Cardinal home a taste of heaven on earth. Olivia I have a question: Did you decide to make Nancy marry a man named Cardinal (a bird) before or after SPY gave everyone bird names as code names?
“What delightful thing are you cooking tonight?” I asked her as I placed my grocery bags on the marbled countertop.
As I asked, Hannah lowered the oven door just enough to peak at her work of art. “Chicken pot pie,” she said. “The vegetables in it came straight out of my garden.”
She straightened to observe her favorite retreat through the window above the sink. As the sun lit up her gray hair and caused her face to glow, I was reminded of what a gift this woman was. She had been like a mother to me since the death of my own mom when I was young, but since cancer had taken my dad five years ago, OLIVIA HOW DARE YOU I WAS OKAY WITH SUFFERING THROUGH OLD TOGO AND OLD HANNAH BUT NOT DEAD CARSON HOW DARE YOU THIS IS UNFORGIVABLE! she had become even more precious to me. If it weren’t for Will, she would be the only family I had left.
Well, only human family, I thought, as I pulled out Togo’s heart medication. As always, he eagerly gobbled up the little pill. It seemed pretty bizarre to me, but maybe my faithful little dog just trusted that everything I gave him was a treat.
Satisfied, Togo wondered out of the kitchen, likely to his favorite spot on the couch with the best view of the front yard.
Hannah, meanwhile, was sorting out the things I had brought home so that they could be efficiently put away. I wasn’t going to have it.
“Oh, Hannah. Go take a break! I can get these things put away!”
Hannah waved me off. “I need something to do while I wait for dinner to finish.”
“I can handle pulling a pie out of the oven. Go enjoy your garden for a while!”
“All right, all right. But only if you agree to come out and tell me about the proposal!”
I smiled. “Deal. Just let me finish up in here.”
Satisfied, Hannah hobbled out the door to the garden swing Will and I had gotten her for Mother’s Day.
I smirked at the groceries in front of me. They were going to wait. I pulled out a single item and skipped into the hallway, past the living room (where, as I suspected, Togo was watching over his territory from the comfort of the couch), past the back door, past the staircase. Then, just before reaching my destination, I paused.
On one side of me was the bathroom. On the other side was a wall full of the people I loved the most.
My favorite picture was in the middle. It had captured a moment in my life that I knew I would never forget. I was there in my wedding dress, tears running down my radiant face I'm sorry but I couldn't help but laugh when Nancy describes her own face as radiant. It just seems a bit narcissistic to me. as I stared into the eyes of the man across from me. William Henry Cardinal, my sandy-haired, stormy-eyed Will. Those gray eyes of his looked intently back into mine, the expression on his face underlining how seriously he took the words he had spoken.
The third person in the picture was my thin and frail dad, holding both of our hands in his own. His eyes were on Will.
“Love her enough for the both of us,” my dad had commissioned.
“I will,” my groom swore. Five years later, Will still kept his word.
Dad would have been such an amazing grandpa. My heart ached at the thought. But when it was followed by the thought of the incredible father Will was going to make, I snapped out of my reverie and with a giddy grin skipped into the bathroom behind me. I had a mystery to solve.
In minutes I was staring down at the pregnancy indicator I had purchased that morning. My hunch was correct. We were going to have a little baby Cardinal.
It was all I could do to not start screaming with excitement. I set the tester down, danced a little bit, then, calmly and coolly as possible, stepped out of the bathroom to go talk to Hannah.
I slid open the back door. “Hannah! Guess what mystery I just solved!”
She said something but I didn’t catch it, because that same moment, Togo started barking and the doorbell rang. “Oh, hang on,” I said, closing the door behind me.
I rushed to the front of the house and opened the front door. When I saw who was there, I had to fight the instinct to slam the door shut and call the police.
Black hair. Black eyes. Black clothes. A face so beautiful it seemed to radiate purity. Yet this woman could be nothing but pure evil incarnate.
Gina.
Olivia I am going to be shocked if my brain doesn't explode by the end of this ML. Because wow was there a LOT in this chapter like WOW... I don't think I can take an ENTIRE ML of this but I will have to because I need closure. XD
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
You guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuys. CARDINAL IS HERE!!! Only took me like four years. Which is kinda poetic because it took me four years between finishing "Eleven Regrets" and posting "One Flower". Haha. Must be my number. WATCH OUT, 2023. This is where I realize how young I am... you wrote and released Eleven Regrets back when I was 11-12. woooooooooaaaaaaahhhhh.
As always, shout out to Manic Drive and their song "Eleven Regrets" which inspired this whole thing. That song is going to mean so much to me forever at this point, I think. Haha. But! There is a second song that was mentioned in the "Eleven Regrets" AE that influenced the direction of Cardinal: "Life After Death and Taxes" by Relient K (awesome song even if the title sounds like a political statement). Other backstory and inspiration will be mentioned later if I remember. XD (I am so put together right now.)
Sooooooooooo fair warning: this isn't a G rated story. Haha. I'd put it at like, PG-13. This is mostly because of violence. It never gets graphic, but it does suggest some graphic things, so I guess it just depends on how wild and uncontrollable your imagination is. I also hint at suicide at times (sometimes very obviously, but never graphically). I'll try to remember to leave warnings on chapters where that is a thing, in case anyone who happens to read this might struggle with that. I'm going to try to get this story approved on HeR as it is, but I honestly doubt it'll pass. Baha. XD So you guys might be the privileged few who get the REAL version of Cardinal. Baha. XD However, language is squeaky-clean and so is pretty much everything else as far as I can remember. XDXDXD
That said, I also want to say that I'm not just blatantly breaking the board rules and get to do whatever I want because I'm a moderator. I get to do whatever I want because Trey doesn't scare me. *shrugs* KIDDING. I'M KIDDING. I mean he doesn't scare me but I don't get to do whatever I want. Long story short... the actual rules for the boards don't match the listed rules. XD And maybe some day eventually one of us will change the listed board rules to reflect what they really are but who knows. XD
Each of the segments I post are going to be pretty long. Sorry for those who don't like long chapters. I LOVE long chapters! Probably because I can never manage to write long chapters myself (400 word chapter average heyooo XD) You're welcome to those who do. XD Also, I'm hoping to finish this before August 20th... That soon? It will be over and done with that soon? *cries* Olivia you better write another good AE or ML soon because I can't live with the thought that I will never get to absorb another story by you again. and I haven't decided on a posting schedule... and I actually don't even know how many sections I'm going to post because I don't have chapters just... sections...
I planned this out SO CAREFULLY you can tell. Maybe I'll have things more figured out by the next time I post. Maybe not. XD At least I have Cardinal completely finished. XDXDXD
I welcome all friendly criticism! Anything from tiny typos to gaping plot holes. So don't be afraid to let me have it. As long as you're being nice. Elsewise I might have to go all moderator on you.
Cool in that case I DO have one criticism: to me the section about the proposal before you say that "I" is Nancy sounds a little too much like it is coming from Joe's voice if you get what I mean. But as soon as we know it is Nancy the voice changes to a more Nancy-esque voice. Do you get what I'm trying to say?
But hey, someone post something at least often enough that I don't have to break the "no triple posting" rule... 'cause... then we'd have to change another rule. KIDDING.
Mmmmmmmkay welp. BYE!
♥♥♥
~olivia~
P.S. Also, just for fun, here's a cover I made for Cardinal. Baha.
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 10, 2019 10:47:17 GMT -5
WillYou know what’s better than flipping burgers at McDonald’s?
Anything.
And anything was exactly what I had been doing for the last five years. After I’d finally gotten my life straightened out, I got a job as a janitor (all right, maybe working at McDonald’s would have been better than that one, I don’t know). A move halfway across the country had me working part-time in a library and part-time on a farm. I guess it wasn’t boring, but I wasn’t living the dream.
And what was that dream, you ask? US Intelligence. CIA. Since I was a boy, that had been my goal. Some mistakes of my own – and some that other people made for me – made this dream impossible for a while. And for a while, I felt like a failure in every regard.
Except one. Somehow, and still to this day I don’t know how, I was able to get the most incredible woman on the face of the earth as my wife; the woman formerly known as Nancy Drew. She thought I was a hero. She called me her champion.
Sometimes I wanted to call her nuts. Me? A hero? A champion? After all I’d done?
It was nice for someone to be constantly telling me nice things about myself, even if I didn’t believe them. But thankfully, I was starting to think that maybe I could be the man I thought her delusional to see in me. As of last week, anything wasn’t what I had to settle for anymore.
Because now I was working security for Bayport Community College.
Okay, so maybe I was settling a little bit. But this job was going to launch me in the right direction. As I sat at my desk waiting for the day to end, I smiled again at the crazy thought. It was going to take months of background checks and interrogation and character scrutiny. But the CIA was willing to hire even people with a shady past if they proved that they would be helpful in serving the country and if they were good at keeping secrets.
So now, in a very real way, I was a hero. Or would be. One obstacle to overcome was filling out all the paperwork involved in even applying for the job. But BCC wasn’t the most exciting place in the world and had afforded me many opportunities to accomplish the oddly satisfying task of filling in blanks. My gaze bounced from the clock to the next blank to fill in as I bounced in my seat, waiting for the magical release of 5 p.m.
The end of the work day had long been my favorite time of day. Sometimes it was just because I hated my job, but always it was because it meant I finally got to go home and see Nancy.
My heart swelled at the thought of her. I acknowledged the existence of the second-shift guy, giving more attention to packing away the paperwork I’d been filling out. I worked my way through the necessary security clearances and stepped out into the New Jersey air.
It felt like the sun was brighter and the trees were greener and the birds were happier. Even the concrete seemed friendly. It’s funny how you find you enjoy your life when you’re happy to be alive, as Relient K once put it.
I jumped into my car (and thought about how excited I would be when we finally saved up enough to scrap this old rust bucket) and wished I didn’t have to make my way through traffic. Because traffic slowed me down, and slowing down meant waiting longer to see Nancy.
But it did give me a chance to think back to the day we met. In my mind’s eye, a flash of red caught my vision as I watched a cardinal fly out of my path as quickly as its wings would take it. It watched me from the oak tree in the Drew’s front yard as I walked to their front door. I gave it a half-smile and a wave. That bird and I had something in common – the name.
When I slammed my foot into the Drew’s porch I figured it was time to stop staring at the bird and pay more attention to the people I was hoping would become my friends. I had some legal issues I needed help with. Mr. Drew intimidated me a bit, but I knew that I could trust him.
I’m pretty sure my pounding heart could be heard as loudly as my knock on the Drew’s front door. I was afraid that Mr. Drew might not take too kindly to my presence here. He knew what I had done. But maybe if I looked sorry enough he would see that I…
The door opened. Before I even knew who was standing there, words flew out of my mouth. It sounded something like, “Himyname’sWilland…” The line of stupidity was cut short when my brain registered the person I was looking at.
As the strawberry blonde girl about my own age stared back at me, I think I could hear angels singing. But then I saw her reddened face and glassy eyes. Heaven had been weeping.
All I wanted to do was take her into my arms. But if Mr. Drew walked in on that… Instead, I went with the more socially acceptable, “Are you okay?”
She showed no emotion as she replied. “This morning my boyfriend broke up with me. Then my dog lost consciousness and I’m still not sure what’s wrong with him. And as soon as I got back from the vet the phone started to ring and so I answered it and it was dad and he said that he has cancer and…” Her stony expression softened into sorrow. “…and he only has six months.”
My mind went blank. It seemed like any words would just ring hollow. But my mouth had a way of making itself known when it really shouldn’t. “I’m… sorry,” I said pathetically.
And suddenly she was in my arms, crying.
That was how I met Nancy Drew.
A police siren snapped me out of my reminiscing. I pulled over as it zipped right by me, in the same direction I was headed. Maybe it was irrational, but I worried that it was headed for my home. An ambulance followed it, and a couple firetrucks. My desire to get home intensified.
For the majority of the remainder of the drive, I kept telling myself everything was fine. Then I turned the corner onto my street, and red and blue emergency lights overwhelmed my vision.
Chills went down my spine. No doubt – these vehicles were in front of my house, parked in my driveway, and emergency responders were going inside my home. I parked behind a police car and leapt out of my vehicle, almost forgetting to close the door.
Worried, I rushed toward the house, but was stopped by a police officer. “Excuse me, sir. Can I help you?” he asked with a soft Spanish accent.
“This is my house!” I responded, straining to see as much as I could of what was going on around him. “Is everyone…”
Paramedics began to carry someone out of the house on a stretcher. A hint of smoke followed behind them, escaping near the top of the door.
“No!” Not even thinking, I pushed past the officer and rushed to the side of the injured person. It was Hannah, unconscious. There was a large bump on her head, where she had clearly been struck. Whoever had done this to her… justice would find them.
With my pause, the officer who stopped me before caught up to me. “You live here?”
“Yes. I’m Will Cardinal.” I’d been taught that it was polite to make eye contact when talking to someone, but instead I watched the paramedics load Hannah into an ambulance.
“I’m Officer Hernandez. We received a report from the neighbors about a break in. They heard some gunshots fired.”
Gunshots? Now my eyes were on Hernandez. “Where’s my wife?” I asked. I started to feel sick.
“The only person on the scene was an elderly woman. There was also a dog. He, um…”
I couldn’t take it. I ran inside. I don’t know what I was expecting to see, but I was surprised to open the door to general order and cleanliness. Nothing in the entryway was out of place, except a tiny blanket, feet from the front door, covering something in the shape of Togo. It wasn’t moving.
Oh, no.
I felt tears sting my eyes, but I refused to let them out now. I had to figure things out first. I pulled the sheet off of Togo, just to confirm. It was indeed his lifeless little black body. I tried to swallow back a lump. He had become my dog as much as he was Nancy’s.
But, still, where was Nancy?
“Sir,” Officer Hernandez grabbed my arm and gently pulled me back outside. “I understand your concern, but please let us finish our investigation.”
I thought about kicking one of the bushes near the front door to let out my frustration without getting arrested. “There’s no sign of Nancy?” I asked Hernandez.
“No, sir. Could she be elsewhere?”
It dawned on me then that I hadn’t even tried to call Nancy yet. I murmured as much to the officer as I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her number. It rang long and my concern grew with each tone. Then another officer walked out of the house – with Nancy’s cell phone in his hands.
Slowly, I lowered my phone and ended the call. “That must be Nancy’s phone,” Hernandez deduced.
I nodded. “What happened?” I asked him.
“We haven’t been able to figure out all the details yet. We have reason to believe that your home was broken into by someone who wants revenge. I’d like to show you something that my officers found; do you think you could handle it?”
I nodded. The officer led me through the entryway and to the right, toward the living room. The whole house smelled like something was burning, and Hernandez explained to me that was because something had been burning. The oven was left on and dinner was beyond edibility, not only because it was burnt, but also because the dutiful firefighters had covered it in whatever that stuff is that comes out of a fire extinguisher. Hannah would have had a fit.
Unlike the rest of the house, which looked untouched, the living room looked like a tornado had gone through it. Pictures were missing from the walls. Chairs were crooked or overturned. The couch’s pillows and cushions were everywhere except on the couch. The intruder had even taken the time to smash a picture of two cardinals in the snow, which currently hung crooked over the fireplace. It looked like the aftermath of an adult-sized temper tantrum.
But this wasn’t what chilled my blood. This wasn’t really what Hernandez wanted to show me. On the wall, painted in scrawling, beautiful black letters, a message was waiting for me.
No one crosses Sognitrico. This Skirmish has only begun. You will pay.
And with those words, all the pieces fell together. My past was coming back, and it was after revenge.
I knew that my silence was giving away the fact that this message was deeply disturbing me. But knowing Gina, she probably thought that the police weren’t a threat. I decided that my best route was to try to play that to my advantage, and so I told Officer Hernandez everything.
Or, almost everything. I told him all about how Gina was involved, and about how dangerous and unhinged Gina was. I told him about her exploits in Italy, and how Nancy had become and enemy of hers there. How Ned Nickerson had also become an enemy of hers there, and how my suspicion was that this whole thing was ultimately a way of getting back at him.
Where was Ned? I couldn’t answer. Not even his own mother and father heard from him anymore.
More questions were asked. Investigators meticulously covered the house for clues. With Hernandez now less afraid that I was going to ruin the investigation, I was allowed to follow them closely, asking and answering questions, doing all I could to aid their investigation and fuel an investigation of my own.
Hours later, I was alone. I stood in the kitchen staring at grocery bags, still full of groceries. I was planning to put them away, but then I saw a little plush bird sitting next to them. Something cute Nancy had picked up while she was out, I guessed. A male cardinal. They are known to be fierce protectors of their home and family, driving off any intruder that posed a threat.
I wished I had more in common with that bird whose name I shared. Some champion I turned out to be.
I looked at the groceries again. I should put those away. I should clean up the living room. I should go visit Hannah. And bury Togo.
But I didn’t want to do any of those things. The only thing I wanted was to find Nancy. I put every other aspect of life on hold. Finding Nancy was all that mattered. And there was one person I could think of who might know what we needed to do to find her.
Half an hour later, I walked into the office of Joseph I. Hardy, PI. Despite the fact that it was getting late, I knew Joe would still be there. Ever since the incident that had cost Frank his vision, Joe had become intense – and obsessed with finding and bringing down Gina. Right now, someone with that obsession was exactly who I needed.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Segment two!  Haha. And everyone wants to kill me even more now but I've come to terms with that. You can't trust me in this story. No one is safe. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
So I have decided on a posting schedule and it's nuts. Heh. I'll be posting every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and the last post will be sometime in the first week or two of August. I think August 7th? I don't remember. XD There are 14 total segments, so 12 more after this one.
Cardinal has gone through various stages of me getting extremely stuck and scrapping everything and starting over. Haha. The flashback Will has here of when he met Nancy was written as one of those complete restarts. It's always fun to see what makes it into the final and what doesn't, and where in the final things end up. And hey, if something isn't working, don't be afraid to throw it out and start all over! That fresh start might just end up carrying you to the end. In my case it took one more complete restart before I was able to finish Cardinal, haha, but take three wouldn't have happened without take two. XD (And take three might not have happened unless Penelope was willing to listen to me complain about all my problems and then help me think through how to fix them. Haha. SO THANK YOU CCLF!)
Penelope - Haha, I like the start, too. It's fun to lead people in one direction and then be like "PSYCH!"  Ha, it almost sounds like you're telling Gina to run. XD I currently have nothing planned for 2023 but if I keep up with my current pattern then that's when my next big project will come out. XDXDXD "Squirrelizards must not have much fear." So wait... you ARE afraid of Trey??? O.o I can't cliffie you? Oooooh? THAT SOUNDS LIKE A CHALLENGE. *cliffies Penelope* *somehow* *eventually* Thanks for reading! I still am so impressed that you can somehow read this again without being bored to tears.
Eloise - EloiIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIse I'm so excited that you're reading this finally! XD Because I'm posting it finally... XDXDXD Anyway. I've been so excited for you to read it because of how much encouragement and support you've given me. I so hope it doesn't disappoint, haha. HEY NOW. I looked up plenty of pictures of sunrises from the Jersey coast and either Google is lying or it can be pretty spectacular when the clouds are right. XD *cough* or google is lying... Oh, Eloise, steal thyself. You're not done hating me yet. Heh heh heh... Joe is SO MUCH FUN to write for. And to read for, most of the time. Baha. Glad my portrayal of the older Hardy boys made sense. XD I feel like what's happened is I've taken these characters and made my own versions of them, so I guess I'm not all that concerned that they match the classic version... but if my version can match the canon, that's great. XD Unforgivable jokes are the best, though.  I dreamed up the name Will Cardinal before SPY. XD It was in 2011, as I was finishing "Eleven Regrets." I actually went with the name Cardinal because this story was inspired by some bluebirds that lived in my backyard. XD But more on that story when I get to the scene that the bluebirds inspired, haha. ...if dead Carson was unforgivable... I must be way beyond unforgivable at this point... and we're not even halfway through. XDXDXD Ha, so, I was actually thinking myself that Nancy calling her face radiant was awkward at best. XD So thanks for that comment. I decided to edit that word out for the HeR version. XD I think that comment was also helpful because it's like... "IF IT FEELS AWKWARD DON'T JUST LEAVE IT, OLIVIA. OI." XD Ugh you saying how young you are makes me feel old. I AM NOT OLD. NOOOOOOOOOOT OLD. Haha, I do actually have ideas for at least two MLs... not sure if they will happen or not at this point. But watch me release another on in 2023. XD Yeah, I totally get what you're trying to say and I appreciate the criticism!!! Because of the way it's written, I knew there was a risk of that happening, haha. I intentionally wanted Nancy's identity to be hidden so make it more... dramatic. XD I honestly didn't put much effort into making the first part of that chapter sound like Nancy. But having a consistent voice matters to me, so I'm really glad that's something you pointed out! I'm probably not going to edit that first section, but if you catch it anywhere else, let me know!!! SO CRAZY to think that Eleven Regrets has been going on for that long. Woooooooooooooooow. Haha. XD Thanks for sticking with me through it all. <3
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 10, 2019 18:15:45 GMT -5
I am taking Olivia's decision to post this chapter right as I had my business for the day commence as a personal attack against me and I will be seeing her in courtWillYou know what’s better than flipping burgers at McDonald’s?
Anything.
And anything was exactly what I had been doing for the last five years. After I’d finally gotten my life straightened out, I got a job as a janitor (all right, maybe working at McDonald’s would have been better than that one, I don’t know). A move halfway across the country had me working part-time in a library and part-time on a farm. I guess it wasn’t boring, but I wasn’t living the dream.
And what was that dream, you ask? US Intelligence. CIA. NEATO! Since I was a boy, that had been my goal. Some mistakes of my own – and some that other people made for me – made this dream impossible for a while. And for a while, I felt like a failure in every regard.
Except one. Somehow, and still to this day I don’t know how, I was able to get the most incredible woman on the face of the earth as my wife; the woman formerly known as Nancy Drew. Why wouldn't she keep her maiden name? Like you know for branding purposes so she gets hired to solve mysteries. She thought I was a hero. She called me her champion.
Sometimes I wanted to call her nuts. Me? A hero? A champion? After all I’d done?
It was nice for someone to be constantly telling me nice things about myself, even if I didn’t believe them. But thankfully, I was starting to think that maybe I could be the man I thought her delusional to see in me. As of last week, anything wasn’t what I had to settle for anymore.
Because now I was working security for Bayport Community College.
Okay, so maybe I was settling a little bit. But this job was going to launch me in the right direction. As I sat at my desk waiting for the day to end, I smiled again at the crazy thought. It was going to take months of background checks and interrogation and character scrutiny. But the CIA was willing to hire even people with a shady past if they proved that they would be helpful in serving the country and if they were good at keeping secrets. I would be a great person for the CIA to hire then, because I am excellent at keeping secrets. X)
So now, in a very real way, I was a hero. Or would be. One obstacle to overcome was filling out all the paperwork involved in even applying for the job. But BCC wasn’t the most exciting place in the world and had afforded me many opportunities to accomplish the oddly satisfying task of filling in blanks. My gaze bounced from the clock to the next blank to fill in as I bounced in my seat, waiting for the magical release of 5 p.m.
The end of the work day had long been my favorite time of day. Sometimes it was just because I hated my job, but always it was because it meant I finally got to go home and see Nancy.
My heart swelled at the thought of her. I acknowledged the existence of the second-shift guy, giving more attention to packing away the paperwork I’d been filling out. I worked my way through the necessary security clearances and stepped out into the New Jersey air.
It felt like the sun was brighter and the trees were greener and the birds were happier. Even the concrete seemed friendly. It’s funny how you find you enjoy your life when you’re happy to be alive, as Relient K once put it.
I jumped into my car (and thought about how excited I would be when we finally saved up enough to scrap this old rust bucket) and wished I didn’t have to make my way through traffic. Because traffic slowed me down, and slowing down meant waiting longer to see Nancy.
But it did give me a chance to think back to the day we met. In my mind’s eye, a flash of red caught my vision as I watched a cardinal fly out of my path as quickly as its wings would take it. It watched me from the oak tree in the Drew’s front yard as I walked to their front door. I gave it a half-smile and a wave. That bird and I had something in common – the name.
When I slammed my foot into the Drew’s porch I figured it was time to stop staring at the bird and pay more attention to the people I was hoping would become my friends. I had some legal issues I needed help with. Mr. Drew intimidated me a bit, but I knew that I could trust him. Carson is the best man. I love him so much. but soooomeone had to go and KILL HIM!!!!!!
I’m pretty sure my pounding heart could be heard as loudly as my knock on the Drew’s front door. I was afraid that Mr. Drew might not take too kindly to my presence here. He knew what I had done. But maybe if I looked sorry enough he would see that I…
The door opened. Before I even knew who was standing there, words flew out of my mouth. It sounded something like, “Himyname’sWilland…” The line of stupidity was cut short when my brain registered the person I was looking at.
As the strawberry blonde girl about my own age stared back at me, I think I could hear angels singing. But then I saw her reddened face and glassy eyes. Heaven had been weeping.
All I wanted to do was take her into my arms. But if Mr. Drew walked in on that… Instead, I went with the more socially acceptable, “Are you okay?”
She showed no emotion as she replied. “This morning my boyfriend broke up with me. Then my dog lost consciousness and I’m still not sure what’s wrong with him. And as soon as I got back from the vet the phone started to ring and so I answered it and it was dad and he said that he has cancer and…” Her stony expression softened into sorrow. “…and he only has six months.”
My mind went blank. It seemed like any words would just ring hollow. But my mouth had a way of making itself known when it really shouldn’t. “I’m… sorry,” I said pathetically.
And suddenly she was in my arms, crying.
That was how I met Nancy Drew.
A police siren snapped me out of my reminiscing. I pulled over as it zipped right by me, in the same direction I was headed. Maybe it was irrational, but I worried that it was headed for my home. An ambulance followed it, and a couple firetrucks. My desire to get home intensified.
For the majority of the remainder of the drive, I kept telling myself everything was fine. Then I turned the corner onto my street, and red and blue emergency lights overwhelmed my vision.
Chills went down my spine. No doubt – these vehicles were in front of my house, parked in my driveway, and emergency responders were going inside my home. I parked behind a police car and leapt out of my vehicle, almost forgetting to close the door.
Worried, I rushed toward the house, but was stopped by a police officer. “Excuse me, sir. Can I help you?” he asked with a soft Spanish accent.
“This is my house!” I responded, straining to see as much as I could of what was going on around him. “Is everyone…”
Paramedics began to carry someone out of the house on a stretcher. A hint of smoke followed behind them, escaping near the top of the door.
“No!” Not even thinking, I pushed past the officer and rushed to the side of the injured person. It was Hannah, unconscious. There was a large bump on her head, where she had clearly been struck. Whoever had done this to her… justice would find them.
With my pause, the officer who stopped me before caught up to me. “You live here?”
“Yes. I’m Will Cardinal.” I’d been taught that it was polite to make eye contact when talking to someone, but instead I watched the paramedics load Hannah into an ambulance.
“I’m Officer Hernandez. We received a report from the neighbors about a break in. They heard some gunshots fired.”
Gunshots? Now my eyes were on Hernandez. “Where’s my wife?” I asked. I started to feel sick.
“The only person on the scene was an elderly woman. There was also a dog. He, um…”
I couldn’t take it. I ran inside. I don’t know what I was expecting to see, but I was surprised to open the door to general order and cleanliness. Nothing in the entryway was out of place, except a tiny blanket, feet from the front door, covering something in the shape of Togo. It wasn’t moving. Olivia you are a monster. I hope you know that.
Oh, no.
I felt tears sting my eyes, but I refused to let them out now. I had to figure things out first. I pulled the sheet off of Togo, just to confirm. It was indeed his lifeless little black body. I tried to swallow back a lump. He had become my dog as much as he was Nancy’s.
But, still, where was Nancy?
“Sir,” Officer Hernandez grabbed my arm and gently pulled me back outside. “I understand your concern, but please let us finish our investigation.”
I thought about kicking one of the bushes near the front door to let out my frustration without getting arrested. “There’s no sign of Nancy?” I asked Hernandez.
“No, sir. Could she be elsewhere?”
It dawned on me then that I hadn’t even tried to call Nancy yet. I murmured as much to the officer as I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her number. It rang long and my concern grew with each tone. Then another officer walked out of the house – with Nancy’s cell phone in his hands.
Slowly, I lowered my phone and ended the call. “That must be Nancy’s phone,” Hernandez deduced.
I nodded. “What happened?” I asked him.
“We haven’t been able to figure out all the details yet. We have reason to believe that your home was broken into by someone who wants revenge. I’d like to show you something that my officers found; do you think you could handle it?”
I nodded. The officer led me through the entryway and to the right, toward the living room. The whole house smelled like something was burning, and Hernandez explained to me that was because something had been burning. The oven was left on and dinner was beyond edibility, not only because it was burnt, but also because the dutiful firefighters had covered it in whatever that stuff is that comes out of a fire extinguisher. Hannah would have had a fit.
Unlike the rest of the house, which looked untouched, the living room looked like a tornado had gone through it. Pictures were missing from the walls. Chairs were crooked or overturned. The couch’s pillows and cushions were everywhere except on the couch. The intruder had even taken the time to smash a picture of two cardinals in the snow, which currently hung crooked over the fireplace. It looked like the aftermath of an adult-sized temper tantrum.
But this wasn’t what chilled my blood. This wasn’t really what Hernandez wanted to show me. On the wall, painted in scrawling, beautiful black letters, a message was waiting for me.
No one crosses Sognitrico. This Skirmish has only begun. You will pay.
And with those words, all the pieces fell together. My past was coming back, and it was after revenge.
I knew that my silence was giving away the fact that this message was deeply disturbing me. But knowing Gina, she probably thought that the police weren’t a threat. I decided that my best route was to try to play that to my advantage, and so I told Officer Hernandez everything.
Or, almost everything. I told him all about how Gina was involved, and about how dangerous and unhinged Gina was. I told him about her exploits in Italy, and how Nancy had become and enemy of hers there. How Ned Nickerson had also become an enemy of hers there, and how my suspicion was that this whole thing was ultimately a way of getting back at him.
Where was Ned? I couldn’t answer. Not even his own mother and father heard from him anymore.
More questions were asked. Investigators meticulously covered the house for clues. With Hernandez now less afraid that I was going to ruin the investigation, I was allowed to follow them closely, asking and answering questions, doing all I could to aid their investigation and fuel an investigation of my own.
Hours later, I was alone. I stood in the kitchen staring at grocery bags, still full of groceries. I was planning to put them away, but then I saw a little plush bird sitting next to them. Something cute Nancy had picked up while she was out, I guessed. A male cardinal. They are known to be fierce protectors of their home and family, driving off any intruder that posed a threat.
I wished I had more in common with that bird whose name I shared. Some champion I turned out to be.
I looked at the groceries again. I should put those away. I should clean up the living room. I should go visit Hannah. And bury Togo.
But I didn’t want to do any of those things. The only thing I wanted was to find Nancy. I put every other aspect of life on hold. Finding Nancy was all that mattered. Does Nancy have an effect on every boy she dates that makes them automatically attached to her and need her and have no life without her? Because that's what Ned is like in the games and Will in this ML kinda seems like that too... And there was one person I could think of who might know what we needed to do to find her.
Half an hour later, I walked into the office of Joseph I. Hardy, PI. Despite the fact that it was getting late, I knew Joe would still be there. Ever since the incident that had cost Frank his vision, Joe had become intense – and obsessed with finding and bringing down Gina. Right now, someone with that obsession was exactly who I needed. JOE!!!!!! I love Joe!
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Segment two! Haha. And everyone wants to kill me even more now but I've come to terms with that. You can't trust me in this story. No one is safe. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
So I have decided on a posting schedule and it's nuts. Heh. I'll be posting every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and the last post will be sometime in the first week or two of August. I think August 7th? I don't remember. XD There are 14 total segments, so 12 more after this one.
Cardinal has gone through various stages of me getting extremely stuck and scrapping everything and starting over. Haha. The flashback Will has here of when he met Nancy was written as one of those complete restarts. It's always fun to see what makes it into the final and what doesn't, and where in the final things end up. And hey, if something isn't working, don't be afraid to throw it out and start all over! That fresh start might just end up carrying you to the end. In my case it took one more complete restart before I was able to finish Cardinal, haha, but take three wouldn't have happened without take two. XD (And take three might not have happened unless Penelope was willing to listen to me complain about all my problems and then help me think through how to fix them. Haha. SO THANK YOU CCLF!)
Penelope - Haha, I like the start, too. It's fun to lead people in one direction and then be like "PSYCH!" Ha, it almost sounds like you're telling Gina to run. XD I currently have nothing planned for 2023 but if I keep up with my current pattern then that's when my next big project will come out. XDXDXD "Squirrelizards must not have much fear." So wait... you ARE afraid of Trey??? O.o I can't cliffie you? Oooooh? THAT SOUNDS LIKE A CHALLENGE. *cliffies Penelope* *somehow* *eventually* Thanks for reading! I still am so impressed that you can somehow read this again without being bored to tears.
Eloise - EloiIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIse I'm so excited that you're reading this finally! XD Because I'm posting it finally... XDXDXD Anyway. I've been so excited for you to read it because of how much encouragement and support you've given me. I so hope it doesn't disappoint, haha. So far nothing you have ever written has disappointed me so you have a great track record going currently HEY NOW. I looked up plenty of pictures of sunrises from the Jersey coast and either Google is lying or it can be pretty spectacular when the clouds are right. XD *cough* or google is lying... Oh, Eloise, steal thyself. You're not done hating me yet. Heh heh heh... Joe is SO MUCH FUN to write for. And to read for, most of the time. Baha. <3 Glad my portrayal of the older Hardy boys made sense. XD I feel like what's happened is I've taken these characters and made my own versions of them, so I guess I'm not all that concerned that they match the classic version... but if my version can match the canon, that's great. XD Unforgivable jokes are the best, though. I dreamed up the name Will Cardinal before SPY. XD It was in 2011, as I was finishing "Eleven Regrets." I actually went with the name Cardinal because this story was inspired by some bluebirds that lived in my backyard. XD But more on that story when I get to the scene that the bluebirds inspired, haha. ...if dead Carson was unforgivable... I must be way beyond unforgivable at this point... and we're not even halfway through. XDXDXD Ha, so, I was actually thinking myself that Nancy calling her face radiant was awkward at best. XD So thanks for that comment. I decided to edit that word out for the HeR version. XD I think that comment was also helpful because it's like... "IF IT FEELS AWKWARD DON'T JUST LEAVE IT, OLIVIA. OI." XD Ugh you saying how young you are makes me feel old. I AM NOT OLD. NOOOOOOOOOOT OLD. That is why you have Penelope, so you feel less old because you have friend your age (and the reverse goes for me because I have Trey so I don't feel so young XD) Haha, I do actually have ideas for at least two MLs... not sure if they will happen or not at this point. But watch me release another on in 2023. XD Yeah, I totally get what you're trying to say and I appreciate the criticism!!! Because of the way it's written, I knew there was a risk of that happening, haha. I intentionally wanted Nancy's identity to be hidden so make it more... dramatic. XD I honestly didn't put much effort into making the first part of that chapter sound like Nancy. But having a consistent voice matters to me, so I'm really glad that's something you pointed out! I'm probably not going to edit that first section, but if you catch it anywhere else, let me know!!! SO CRAZY to think that Eleven Regrets has been going on for that long. Woooooooooooooooow. Haha. XD Thanks for sticking with me through it all. <3
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~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 12, 2019 12:24:22 GMT -5
Will“Hey, Iola,” I solemnly greeted Joe’s secretary as I walked into the firm’s entry. Her dark hair and green eyes always made me think of a cat when I saw her. She was perched behind her desk, which connected to the waist-high wall and gate separating the waiting area from access to Joe’s office. That imposing desk kept vigilant watch over an empty pair of sofa chairs arranged cozily around a coffee table in a brightly-windowed corner of the room.
“Good evening, Will,” Iola greeted me with her ever-present smile. It really wasn’t hard to imagine her purring. “How can I help you?”
I didn’t return her cheer. “Iola, I have to talk to Joe, and I have to talk to him now.”
“Oh, he literally just went into a meeting with someone,” she replied, her smile fading. “He can’t really be bothered…”
I leaned against her dark desk. “Iola, I have to see him now.”
She sighed and stared at me for a moment. “Let me call him,” she said. She picked up the phone next to her and dialed his extension.
I think I was holding my breath while we waited for Joe to answer. He didn’t, and Iola hung up the phone and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Will, but you’re going to have to wait.”
I hung my head. She was giving me a slightly pitying look. I could tell she was on my side, but her loyalty to Joe was greater than her loyalty to me. I sighed and gave her a sad smile. “Okay,” I said.
And as soon as I knew her guard was down, I jumped over that waist-high wall and made a beeline for Joe’s door.
A flustered Iola screamed as I covered the ten feet between her and Joe’s door in two steps. “William!”
I ignored her and banged on Joe’s door. “Joe, it’s Will! We need to talk!”
Joe didn’t respond, but Iola did.
“Mr. Cardinal, if you do not leave now I’m going to call security!”
I stopped banging on the door long enough to look back at Iola. “Since when does Joe have security?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I say security? I meant the police!”
I went back to banging. “Joe, please! You have to…” I suddenly found it difficult to knock. But you try knocking on a door after an angry secretary has jumped on your back.
Iola’s timing was either really great or really terrible, depending on your perspective. The moment she threw off my balance, the door to Joe’s office flew open. “Will you big…!” Whatever Joe was about to call me, he was distracted by jumping out of the way when I lost balance and lurched forward, landing on the floor in his office.
Iola scrambled to her feet and did what she could to look dignified.
“Great, thanks for keeping him out of my office,” Joe said dryly.
“What would you do without me,” Iola responded with as much sarcasm, and went back to her desk.
As I stood to my own feet and prepared to let Joe have it, he turned to the client in his office – a shady, brown-haired, brown-eyed man with a face that was hauntingly familiar.
“I’m sorry – give me a minute,” he said to the guy, who simply waved at him in response.
Then Joe shoved me out of his office and let me have it.
“What’s the big idea, Will? I don’t have time for this! You can’t just…”
“Joe, shut up!” I yelled. “Nancy is in danger and I have every reason to believe that I don’t have much time to find her before…” I swallowed. I couldn’t finish.
But at least my outburst caught Joe’s attention. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Will, come here,” he said, and walked back into his office.
I followed. As I did, I tried to begin explaining, to gain some credibility with Joe. “I’m sure that whatever you have going on here is more important than I understand. But Nancy…”
“Will, shut up and sit down, will you?” Joe asked, seating himself behind his desk. Frustration grew. But I was only going to get Joe’s help Joe’s way. I complied, taking the only free chair left in the little room.
Joe sighed. “Will, I have a feeling that what you’re here for and what my guest is here for are the same thing. Meet Antonio Fango.”
I looked again at the guy now sitting to my left. Chills went down my spine as a host of memories I tried to keep repressed forced itself to the front of my mind. Fango. Capitano.
“Sognitrico,” I breathed.
Fango raised an eyebrow. “So he knows?” he asked Joe through his deep and gruff Italian accent.
Joe nodded. “Will married Nancy Drew – now Nancy Cardinal.”
“I see,” Fango replied, eyeing me. “What happened to the other guy? Nickerson was it?”
“Can we cut to the chase?” I interrupted.
“Yeah, yeah… So Fango was just telling me how he has a message from Gina.”
Fango glanced back at me. He had all my attention, and I wasn’t sure that he wanted it. “My message is simple,” he said finally, looking back to Joe. “Revenge is coming, and it will not be stopped.”
We both just stared at Fango for a moment. I gripped the armrests of my chair to keep myself from another outburst.
But Fango seemed unphased. He stood up. “I am finished,” he said, then started for the door.
“Wait a second,” Joe called after him, getting up from his seat. “That’s it?”
Fango stopped in the doorway. “That is all. I wish to say no more, so please ask no more. Good day, Hardy.”
He turned his back to us and was gone.
Joe rose from his place and shut the door again. I jumped up.
“You can’t just let him leave!” I got as far as grabbing the door handle.
He grabbed my shoulder. “Sit down, Will.”
“Joe-!”
“Sit. Down.”
I threw up my hands and threw myself back into the chair. Joe turned back to his desk, pacing behind it rather than settling back in his chair. “She’s here, isn’t she,” he asked me, staring at the floor, continuing to pace.
She. Gina. Scaramuccia. The Skirmish. “Joe, she has Nancy.”
Joe stopped, slammed his fist into his desk, and swore. “What do you know?” he asked.
I pulled up a picture of the Skirmish’s note and slid my phone across his desk. “She wants revenge. Togo is… dead. Hannah is in the hospital. They found her unconscious. Maybe she saw something, but who knows if she’ll remember it.”
“At least we can try.” He passed my phone back to me and pulled out his own. “You go wait at the hospital for Hannah to wake up. Meanwhile,” he flashed the screen of his phone my way, open to some kind of GPS system. “I had Iola plant a tracking device on Fango. I’m going to find out how he’s contacting Gina.”
So letting Fango just walk away made sense now. But asking me to just hang out at the hospital didn't. “Joe… I can’t just sit around and wait!”
“Look, Will, it could be a solid lead. And who knows the condition Hannah will be in when she wakes up. Your friendly familiar face will do her more good than a stranger’s.”
“Fine, just… keep me updated.”
He saluted me. “Will do. Now let’s go.”
“Aye, aye,” I replied. He led the way out of his office and through the lobby.
“See ya, Iola,” he called to his secretary. She gave him a friendly farewell, but ignored my existence.
As Joe exited, I hesitated. I turned to Iola.
“Um, I’m sorry, Iola.”
“That’s great, Will,” she responded, not looking up from the already-straightened paperwork that she was straightening.
“I know I don’t deserve it, but… will you forgive me?” I asked her.
She sighed and looked up at me. “Yes, Will, I forgive you.” Then she smirked. “You know, you could make it up to me.”
“Yeah? What penance do I have to pay?”
“Get that boyfriend of mine to finally ask me to marry him.”
I smirked back at Iola and held up my hands in a shrug. “If your mere existence isn’t enough to get Joe to do that, I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”
She had a response ready – her quick wit never failed her – but a new visitor came in and instead Iola said, “Callie!” She rushed from behind her desk to embrace her lifelong friend. “Congratulations!” she squealed.
Callie beamed. “Thanks, Iola. And hi, Will.”
I returned Callie’s greeting and made an attempt to offer my own congratulations, but I was drowned out by Iola’s enthusiasm. “Were you surprised? Who helped him pick out the ring? Wait, weren’t you going to get it sized tonight? What are you doing here?”
A shadow passed over Callie’s face and concern kept into her doe eyes. “Um, is Joe around?”
“No,” Iola responded, mirroring Callie’s look of concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I know they don’t talk much, but I was just hoping that maybe he’d heard from Frank. I’m worried about him.”
“What do you mean?” Iola asked.
“We were supposed to go out tonight, but he wasn’t at home. He hasn’t been taking my calls, and Chet hasn’t seen him since this morning.”
Chet – Frank’s roommate. Also Iola’s brother and long-time friend of the Hardys.
“He’s probably fine, but… I don’t know… should I call the police?”
“I’ll let Joe know what’s going on,” Iola assured Callie. “Why don’t you ask Mr. and Mrs. Hardy? Fenton will probably know when to get the police involved.”
“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” Callie said with a small smile. “Thanks, Iola.”
“Of course. I’m sure he’ll be okay,” the secretary reassured her friend.
“Callie,” I interjected, “would you mind if I went with you? I want to help find Frank, if I can.” I had a terrible feeling that his disappearance may have to do with Gina’s revenge rampage.
“I would like that,” Callie said. “Meet you at the Hardy’s?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
We exchanged goodbyes with Iola and left her in the lonely office.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
I think the start of this scene is one of the few that was in the very first version of Cardinal and made it through to the end. I just didn't have the heart to cut out Iola jumping on Will's back.
Eloise - I'm surprised you hadn't sued me already for killing off Carson and Togo... I'm never going to get out of jail, am I? *cough* Well, I mean, she has reason to not bring attention to herself... but... it'll become more obvious later maybe. XD Eloise, you should totally join the CIA because then I could brag to people that my friend is in the CIA so HA. XD This ML would not exist if I refused to be a monster. And believe me I went back and forth for a while as to whether or not Togo's fate was sealed... Haha, well, personally, I'd hope that if I ever marry someone, they would desperately search for me if I went missing and feel like their life was over if I died or something. And then heal and be able to move on, but yeah. XD PLUS. She was kidnapped by GINA. WHO KNOWS WHAT HORRID TORTURE SHE'S GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW. Having someone your age doesn't make you feel less old. It just makes you feel like you are old and have old friends. XDXDXD BUT SINCE I'M NOT OLD I don't have to feel old. *cough* anywhoooooooo. Thanks for reading! Haha.
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~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 12, 2019 13:47:42 GMT -5
I dropped everything I was doing (planning my MLs and watching YouTube XD) to come and read this because this is clearly the best thing ever written on God's green earth and must be appreciated as such. XDWill“Hey, Iola,” I solemnly greeted Joe’s secretary as I walked into the firm’s entry. Her dark hair and green eyes always made me think of a cat when I saw her. She sounds like Nico Petit. XD She was perched behind her desk, which connected to the waist-high wall and gate separating the waiting area from access to Joe’s office. That imposing desk kept vigilant watch over an empty pair of sofa chairs arranged cozily around a coffee table in a brightly-windowed corner of the room.
“Good evening, Will,” Iola greeted me with her ever-present smile. It really wasn’t hard to imagine her purring. “How can I help you?”
I didn’t return her cheer. “Iola, I have to talk to Joe, and I have to talk to him now.”
“Oh, he literally just went into a meeting with someone,” she replied, her smile fading. “He can’t really be bothered…”
I leaned against her dark desk. “Iola, I have to see him now.”
She sighed and stared at me for a moment. “Let me call him,” she said. She picked up the phone next to her and dialed his extension.
I think I was holding my breath while we waited for Joe to answer. He didn’t, and Iola hung up the phone and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Will, but you’re going to have to wait.”
I hung my head. She was giving me a slightly pitying look. I could tell she was on my side, but her loyalty to Joe was greater than her loyalty to me. I sighed and gave her a sad smile. “Okay,” I said.
And as soon as I knew her guard was down, I jumped over that waist-high wall and made a beeline for Joe’s door. Parkour baybee!
A flustered Iola screamed as I covered the ten feet between her and Joe’s door in two steps. “William!”
I ignored her and banged on Joe’s door. “Joe, it’s Will! We need to talk!”
Joe didn’t respond, but Iola did.
“Mr. Cardinal, if you do not leave now I’m going to call security!”
I stopped banging on the door long enough to look back at Iola. “Since when does Joe have security?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I say security? I meant the police!”
I went back to banging. “Joe, please! You have to…” I suddenly found it difficult to knock. But you try knocking on a door after an angry secretary has jumped on your back.
Iola’s timing was either really great or really terrible, depending on your perspective. The moment she threw off my balance, the door to Joe’s office flew open. “Will You need to put a comma here by the way. you big…!” Whatever Joe was about to call me, he was distracted by jumping out of the way when I lost balance and lurched forward, landing on the floor in his office.
Iola scrambled to her feet and did what she could to look dignified.
“Great, thanks for keeping him out of my office,” Joe said dryly.
“What would you do without me,” Iola responded with as much sarcasm, and went back to her desk. This is just a personal observation but maybe try and check your banter between characters and make sure it doesn't sound too much like they are still teenagers. Since these people are all now jaded and cynical adults (sort of XD) their interactions with each other should reflect that, unless you are trying to make certain characters seem stuck in the past including how they acted in the past (ie when they were teenagers). Just some thoughts (my editor brain is in high gear while reading your ML for some reason-probably because I want the final final product to be even more perfect than this version already is XD)(okay I'll stop talking now and get back to reading XD)
As I stood to my own feet and prepared to let Joe have it, he turned to the client in his office – a shady, brown-haired, brown-eyed man with a face that was hauntingly familiar.
“I’m sorry – give me a minute,” he said to the guy, who simply waved at him in response.
Then Joe shoved me out of his office and let me have it.
“What’s the big idea, Will? I don’t have time for this! You can’t just…”
“Joe, shut up!” I yelled. “Nancy is in danger and I have every reason to believe that I don’t have much time to find her before…” I swallowed. I couldn’t finish.
But at least my outburst caught Joe’s attention. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Will, come here,” he said, and walked back into his office.
I followed. As I did, I tried to begin explaining, to gain some credibility with Joe. “I’m sure that whatever you have going on here is more important than I understand. But Nancy…”
“Will, shut up and sit down, will you?” Joe asked, seating himself behind his desk. I really like adult intense Joe for some reason. Like can we stop this sad story and just have this Joe doing this Joe type stuff... but with no sad Ned Nancy Will stuff going on as well? XD Frustration grew. But I was only going to get Joe’s help Joe’s way. I complied, taking the only free chair left in the little room.
Joe sighed. “Will, I have a feeling that what you’re here for and what my guest is here for are the same thing. Meet Antonio Fango.”
I looked again at the guy now sitting to my left. Chills went down my spine as a host of memories I tried to keep repressed forced itself to the front of my mind. Fango. Capitano.
“Sognitrico,” I breathed.
Fango raised an eyebrow. “So he knows?” he asked Joe through his deep and gruff Italian accent.
Joe nodded. “Will married Nancy Drew – now Nancy Cardinal.” That name sounds so wrong. XD I'm sorry but I can't get over how weird Nancy Cardinal sounds... Will Cardinal sounds great though. XD
“I see,” Fango replied, eyeing me. “What happened to the other guy? Nickerson was it?” NED NICKERSON MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD HOW DARE YOU! RESPECT HIM!!!!!!!
“Can we cut to the chase?” I interrupted.
“Yeah, yeah… So Fango was just telling me how he has a message from Gina.”
Fango glanced back at me. He had all my attention, and I wasn’t sure that he wanted it. “My message is simple,” he said finally, looking back to Joe. “Revenge is coming, and it will not be stopped.”
We both just stared at Fango for a moment. I gripped the armrests of my chair to keep myself from another outburst.
But Fango seemed unphased. He stood up. “I am finished,” he said, then started for the door.
“Wait a second,” Joe called after him, getting up from his seat. “That’s it?”
Fango stopped in the doorway. “That is all. I wish to say no more, so please ask no more. Good day, Hardy.”
He turned his back to us and was gone.
Joe rose from his place and shut the door again. I jumped up.
“You can’t just let him leave!” I got as far as grabbing the door handle.
He grabbed my shoulder. “Sit down, Will.”
“Joe-!”
“Sit. Down.”
I threw up my hands and threw myself back into the chair. Joe turned back to his desk, pacing behind it rather than settling back in his chair. “She’s here, isn’t she,” he asked me, staring at the floor, continuing to pace.
She. Gina. Scaramuccia. The Skirmish. “Joe, she has Nancy.”
Joe stopped, slammed his fist into his desk, and swore. “What do you know?” he asked.
I pulled up a picture of the Skirmish’s note and slid my phone across his desk. “She wants revenge. Togo is… dead. Hannah is in the hospital. They found her unconscious. Maybe she saw something, but who knows if she’ll remember it.”
“At least we can try.” He passed my phone back to me and pulled out his own. “You go wait at the hospital for Hannah to wake up. Meanwhile,” he flashed the screen of his phone my way, open to some kind of GPS system. “I had Iola plant a tracking device on Fango. I’m going to find out how he’s contacting Gina.”
So letting Fango just walk away made sense now. But asking me to just hang out at the hospital didn't. “Joe… I can’t just sit around and wait!”
“Look, Will, it could be a solid lead. And who knows the condition Hannah will be in when she wakes up. Your friendly familiar face will do her more good than a stranger’s.”
“Fine, just… keep me updated.”
He saluted me. “Will do. Now let’s go.”
“Aye, aye,” I replied. He led the way out of his office and through the lobby.
“See ya, Iola,” he called to his secretary. She gave him a friendly farewell, but ignored my existence.
As Joe exited, I hesitated. I turned to Iola.
“Um, I’m sorry, Iola.”
“That’s great, Will,” she responded, not looking up from the already-straightened paperwork that she was straightening.
“I know I don’t deserve it, but… will you forgive me?” I asked her.
She sighed and looked up at me. “Yes, Will, I forgive you.” Then she smirked. “You know, you could make it up to me.”
“Yeah? What penance do I have to pay?”
“Get that boyfriend of mine to finally ask me to marry him.”
I smirked back at Iola and held up my hands in a shrug. “If your mere existence isn’t enough to get Joe to do that, I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”
She had a response ready – her quick wit never failed her – but a new visitor came in and instead Iola said, “Callie!” She rushed from behind her desk to embrace her lifelong friend. “Congratulations!” she squealed.
Callie beamed. “Thanks, Iola. And hi, Will.”
I returned Callie’s greeting and made an attempt to offer my own congratulations, but I was drowned out by Iola’s enthusiasm. “Were you surprised? Who helped him pick out the ring? Wait, weren’t you going to get it sized tonight? What are you doing here?”
A shadow passed over Callie’s face and concern kept into her doe eyes. “Um, is Joe around?”
“No,” Iola responded, mirroring Callie’s look of concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I know they don’t talk much, but I was just hoping that maybe he’d heard from Frank. I’m worried about him.”
“What do you mean?” Iola asked.
“We were supposed to go out tonight, but he wasn’t at home. He hasn’t been taking my calls, and Chet hasn’t seen him since this morning.”
Chet – Frank’s roommate. Also Iola’s brother and long-time friend of the Hardys.
“He’s probably fine, but… I don’t know… should I call the police?”
“I’ll let Joe know what’s going on,” Iola assured Callie. “Why don’t you ask Mr. and Mrs. Hardy? Fenton will probably know when to get the police involved.”
“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” Callie said with a small smile. “Thanks, Iola.”
“Of course. I’m sure he’ll be okay,” the secretary reassured her friend.
“Callie,” I interjected, “would you mind if I went with you? I want to help find Frank, if I can.” I had a terrible feeling that his disappearance may have to do with Gina’s revenge rampage.
“I would like that,” Callie said. “Meet you at the Hardy’s?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
We exchanged goodbyes with Iola and left her in the lonely office.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
I think the start of this scene is one of the few that was in the very first version of Cardinal and made it through to the end. I just didn't have the heart to cut out Iola jumping on Will's back.
Eloise - I'm surprised you hadn't sued me already for killing off Carson and Togo... I'm never going to get out of jail, am I? *cough* Well, I mean, she has reason to not bring attention to herself... but... it'll become more obvious later maybe. XD Eloise, you should totally join the CIA because then I could brag to people that my friend is in the CIA so HA. XD This ML would not exist if I refused to be a monster. And believe me I went back and forth for a while as to whether or not Togo's fate was sealed... Haha, well, personally, I'd hope that if I ever marry someone, they would desperately search for me if I went missing and feel like their life was over if I died or something. And then heal and be able to move on, but yeah. XD PLUS. She was kidnapped by GINA. WHO KNOWS WHAT HORRID TORTURE SHE'S GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW. Having someone your age doesn't make you feel less old. It just makes you feel like you are old and have old friends. XDXDXD BUT SINCE I'M NOT OLD I don't have to feel old. *cough* anywhoooooooo. Thanks for reading! Haha.
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~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 15, 2019 17:21:25 GMT -5
WillI could navigate the Hardy’s living room in the dark. And their refrigerator. Since Nancy and I had moved to Bayport, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy had become like our own parents.
So I guess now, they had a son and a daughter missing.
“Does Joe know Frank is missing?” Laura Hardy asked, curled up on the brown loveseat she frequented.
“We tried to contact him, but he’s busy… investigating something else,” I answered.
“And you’ve been to Frank’s apartment?” Fenton Hardy asked this question from his leather La-Z-Boy next to Laura.
Callie nodded. “Chet says that the last he saw him was at breakfast. I walked with him to the Bayport Chronicle offices. Frank never came home after work.”
“And Nancy’s missing, too,” Fenton said. It had been fascinating to watch him as we gave him all the details. You could almost see his mind solving the mystery as it was laid out before him.
I nodded. “I don’t know if it’s connected. But it could be.”
Fenton and Laura knew about my past connection with Sognitrico. Callie didn’t. So Fenton didn’t say anything more.
“And what did the Chronicle say?” Laura picked up the questioning.
“He left with Scout at the normal time.” As Callie said that, she shifted in her seat and looked down.
“Callie, what is it?” Laura asked.
Callie shrugged. “Maybe I’m just being silly, but… You know, ever since Frank became a journalist for the Chronicle, he’s been very disciplined and predictable, always leaving for work at the same time and leaving to work at the same time… and I mean, it’s been a great thing for him and it’s wonderful how that predictability has made him able to be independent but… I guess I just worry that if an enemy of his ever wanted to hurt him, then… they wouldn’t have to spend much time watching him before they would be able to predict his daily habits and… plan…” Callie sighed. “I’m being so silly, aren’t I? He’s fine. Surely he’s fine.”
“Callie, you aren’t being silly. You are taking things that don’t make sense and using what you know to make sense of them. It’s something every detective has to do to come to the truth.” Trust Fenton Hardy to always find a way to encourage someone’s detective skills. “I’ll be honest. It sounds bad. But I don’t know if we can assume Frank has been kidnapped yet. I’m going to call a few friends and…”
Mr. Hardy continued to share his plan, but I zoned out when my phone buzzed. Nancy? Nope. Joe.
Fango @ door
What?
The doorbell rang.
I was at the door before the Hardy’s could even think to stand up. In a single motion I unlocked the door and flung it open. Before Fango could even register that I was the one who had opened the door, I had him pinned to the ground.
“WHERE IS GINA?” I shouted, straddled across his stomach, holding two fist-fulls of his suit jacket close to his face. He gripped my wrists for dear life and choked out,
“This really isn’t necessary.”
“Where is she, Fango? Don’t toy with me!”
At this point, the others had a chance to figure out – at least somewhat – what was going on.
“I cannot tell you,” Fango strained as Mr. Hardy stepped onto his porch. Callie and Laura crowded the doorway.
“I will make you!” I’m sure that statement didn’t earn me any approval from Laura.
“No… listen, I can’t tell you because I do not know.”
I glared at him for a moment.
“Would you please get off of me?” the Italian asked.
“Will, that’s not helping anything. Let him go,” Mr. Hardy said.
So I complied and stood up, but out of respect for Mr. Hardy alone.
With me no longer holding him down, Fango stood up and brushed himself off and straightened himself up in general.
“So what’s going on?” Mr. Hardy asked, eyeing both Fango and me.
Fango cleared his throat and answered. “My shall we say, ‘boss,’ has caused some problems for Mr. Cardinal.”
To say the least.
“Regretfully,” Fango added, “she has also caused some problems for you.”
The retired police detective crossed his arms. “How so?”
“She wishes me to inform you that she has Frank. I know nothing more, so please ask me nothing more about it.”
Fango turned around to leave, but there was no way I was letting him go so easily. I grabbed his arm.
“Hang on,” I growled. “How is she contacting you?”
Fango scowled at me and wrenched his arm from my grasp. “Carrier pigeon,” he spat at me. “From where she is sending the birds, I do not know. I know what she has requested, and I know I do not want to turn down her requests or fail to see them through.”
“Who is she?” Mr. Hardy asked.
“Scaramuccia.”
Mr. Hardy’s face went pale. “What does she want?” Mr. Hardy asked.
“Revenge,” I answered.
There was no sound from the three of us for a moment as the implications of my statement sank in. Hopelessness started creeping in, too. No way out. No way to rescue.
Mr. Hardy’s logical mind broke the trance. “Mr. Fango, as far as I know, you’ve done nothing wrong. I can’t detain you. But I have the feeling that what you are doing, you are not doing because you want to.”
He paused, but Fango didn’t offer the answer that the pause was intended for.
“If you need help, my home is open to you,” Mr. Hardy finished. Without a word, Fango crossed the grassy lawn, mounted the motorcycle awaiting his return, and sped down the street. I wasn’t too surprised when I saw Joe speed down the street after him a few moments later.
Mr. Hardy then turned to me. “Will, you’re upset, and I understand why. But you need to cool it, or you’re going to get yourself and others in trouble.”
“Sorry,” I offered pathetically.
“Keep your head, Will. No matter how much your heart is invested in the mystery you’re trying to solve, you’ve got to always keep your head.”
I wanted to snap back with something about knowing a thing or two about the mystery business, but it didn’t seem like Mr. Hardy would have appreciated the sarcasm at the moment.
Callie decided to stay at the Hardy’s for a while. Mr. Hardy put in a missing person’s report to the police. With the only light in the sky now being the stars, I decided it was time to go home.
I remembered Hannah then with a pang of guilt. Visiting hours were definitely over at the hospital by then, though, so I took the road that lead home.
I hated it, but all I could do was wait. Wait for demands. Wait for news from Joe. Wait for morning to come so that I could visit Hannah.
I buried my dog. I came inside and threw all the grocery bags into the refrigerator without even looking at what was in them. That little plush cardinal watched me the whole time, making sure I knew what a failure I was.
I plodded into the bedroom and plugged my cell phone in to charge; had to make sure that didn’t fail me now. I lay down and tried to sleep. The least I could do was be at my prime. But that same refrain kept drumming through my head,
There’s nothing I can do.
After a couple of hours of nightmares running through my head without falling asleep, I gave up and decided to try cleaning the house a bit. Maybe doing so would even help me find a clue.
Around 3 a.m. I wandered into the bathroom and just stared at myself for a moment. Cleaning the house wasn’t offering any help. Now, if Nancy were here, then she could probably find something pointing to Gina’s exact location. Solving mysteries was what she did. And now it was what I had to do. But I found myself unable. Pathetically unable.
I let out an angry cry and gripped the sides of the sink.
That’s when I saw it.
A pregnancy test.
I picked it up.
A positive pregnancy test.
The plush cardinal suddenly made sense. Nancy’s way of telling me that a little Cardinal was on its way.
I felt the blood drain from my face. The emotions inside me were singularly bipolar. Butterflies in my stomach danced for joy. But my heartbeat sped up, and it seemed like things couldn’t get any worse.
Gina had Frank. Gina had Nancy. And Gina had my child.
No ransom note. No blackmail. Just a message saying her only desire was revenge.
And there was nothing I could do. Exhausted and hopeless, I let out an anguished cry and fell to my knees in tears.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
The ending scene of this chapter was born as one of the first scenes of this story. I think the very first was Will coming home to find Nancy gone. But this one came to life almost immediately after. I was outside, sitting on top of our then-playhouse/now-chickencoop, and I was writing. Eleven Regrets was close to being finished at the time, if I remember correctly. I was thinking about freewriting something based on a mini-trgedy that had happened in our backyard. Something had broken into our bluebird house and had killed the mother and baby birds. I began to imagine what it would be like to be that father bird coming back to find that. Which then made me start to imagine what that might look like if it was humans... and then somehow I came up with this idea of writing an ML called "Bluebirds" that would follow the story of a father bluebird as it followed the story of a guy named Will Cardinal. They both would come back home and find things wrecked... but would Nancy and her baby's fate be the same as the bluebirds'? Eventually I decided to not go with the bluebird thing, and started calling this story "Cardinal" instead of "Bluebirds." And the reason Will's last name is Cardinal is because this whole story was inspired by bluebirds, haha. I decided on Will as the first name after deciding on the last name.
Anyway... that's how "Cardinal" first came into existence. It's changed so much since that original inception, but a few things have remained the same. Inspiration can come from anywhere!
Eloise - Oh my goodness Eloise you're too much. Ack. Haha. I definitely don't feel like this is worth dropping anything for but hey, I'll take it. XD Haha, I hadn't thought of it, but Iola does sound like Nico! I was trying to stay faithful to the canon description of her, and she sounded like a cat, soooooooo... female Nico. XD Okay so FOR THE RECORD I had left that comma out on purpose. XD Sometimes I intentionally break grammar rules because then the sentence flow matches better the way it sounds in my head. However... I changed my mind and put the comma back in. XD Baha. So thank for pointing that out, because it helped me to see that I actually like it more with the comma. XD Haha, the dialogue... So, I wasn't going to jaded adults. XD These guys are probably an average age of 25? And since I'm in that age range, I think I can fairly say that people that age haven't changed a whole lot in their banter. XD Literally sometimes what shocks me is how much friends of mine haven't changed in the last ten years, baha. So anywho. XDXDXD Thanks so much for the feedback! But clearly, I am fighting back against that particular bit of advice pretty hard. XDXDXD Seriously, I so appreciate all of the editing and such that you're doing, even if I don't end up changing anything! Joe was SO FUN to write for in this story! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand... the next chapter is completely in his perspective! Honestly, I agree - Nancy Cardinal just... no. XD Oh, the sacrifices we make for love...  Ha. YES RESPECT NED. Hehe I can't wait for you to keep reading. Also your faithful commenting is putting me to shame, just for the record. Haha.
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 15, 2019 21:08:30 GMT -5
*dances into ML*WillI could navigate the Hardy’s living room in the dark. And their refrigerator. Since Nancy and I had moved to Bayport, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy had become like our own parents. I love Fenton and what's her face. Great parents. <3
So I guess now, they had a son and a daughter missing.
“Does Joe know Frank is missing?” Laura Hardy Ah, Laura X) asked, curled up on the brown loveseat she frequented.
“We tried to contact him, but he’s busy… investigating something else,” I answered.
“And you’ve been to Frank’s apartment?” Fenton Hardy asked this question from his leather La-Z-Boy next to Laura. Now I am imagining their entire house just FILLED with couches and the like XD
Callie nodded. “Chet says that the last he saw him was at breakfast. I walked with him to the Bayport Chronicle offices. Frank never came home after work.”
“And Nancy’s missing, too,” Fenton said. It had been fascinating to watch him as we gave him all the details. You could almost see his mind solving the mystery as it was laid out before him.
I nodded. “I don’t know if it’s connected. But it could be.”
Fenton and Laura knew about my past connection with Sognitrico. Why would you date and then marry someone with the same dark past ties that you have?? I just feel like it is putting both of you in more danger than you already are. Like, guaranteed danger. Callie didn’t. So Fenton didn’t say anything more.
“And what did the Chronicle <-- Should this be italicized like it is above? say?” Laura picked up the questioning.
“He left with Scout at the normal time.” As Callie said that, she shifted in her seat and looked down.
“Callie, what is it?” Laura asked.
Callie shrugged. “Maybe I’m just being silly, but… You know, ever since Frank became a journalist for the Chronicle, he’s been very disciplined and predictable, always leaving for work at the same time and leaving to work at the same time… and I mean, it’s been a great thing for him and it’s wonderful how that predictability has made him able to be independent but… I guess I just worry that if an enemy of his ever wanted to hurt him, then… they wouldn’t have to spend much time watching him before they would be able to predict his daily habits and… plan…” Callie sighed. “I’m being so silly, aren’t I? He’s fine. Surely he’s fine.”
“Callie, you aren’t being silly. You are taking things that don’t make sense and using what you know to make sense of them. It’s something every detective has to do to come to the truth.” Trust Fenton Hardy to always find a way to encourage someone’s detective skills. “I’ll be honest. It sounds bad. But I don’t know if we can assume Frank has been kidnapped yet. I’m going to call a few friends and…”
Mr. Hardy continued to share his plan, but I zoned out when my phone buzzed. Nancy? Nope. Joe.
Fango @ door Okay so my eye skipped down to this part (which is currently at the bottom of my view on the screen, and I thought you had left in a planning note before I realized (and read the line above it) that it was a text message XDXDXD
What?
The doorbell rang.
I was at the door before the Hardy’s could even think to stand up. In a single motion I unlocked the door and flung it open. Before Fango could even register that I was the one who had opened the door, I had him pinned to the ground.
“WHERE IS GINA?” I shouted, straddled across his stomach, holding two fist-fulls of his suit jacket close to his face. He gripped my wrists for dear life and choked out,
“This really isn’t necessary.”
“Where is she, Fango? Don’t toy with me!”
At this point, the others had a chance to figure out – at least somewhat – what was going on.
“I cannot tell you,” Fango strained as Mr. Hardy stepped onto his porch. Callie and Laura crowded the doorway.
“I will make you!” I’m sure that statement didn’t earn me any approval from Laura.
“No… listen, I can’t tell you because I do not know.”
I glared at him for a moment.
“Would you please get off of me?” the Italian asked. XD That's what I am going to start referring to myself as... The Italian. It'll be my criminal code name. XD
“Will, that’s not helping anything. Let him go,” Mr. Hardy said.
So I complied and stood up, but out of respect for Mr. Hardy alone.
With me no longer holding him down, Fango stood up and brushed himself off and straightened himself up in general.
“So what’s going on?” Mr. Hardy asked, eyeing both Fango and me.
Fango cleared his throat and answered. “My shall we say, ‘boss,’ has caused some problems for Mr. Cardinal.”
To say the least.
“Regretfully,” Fango added, “she has also caused some problems for you.”
The retired police detective crossed his arms. “How so?”
“She wishes me to inform you that she has Frank. OKAY okay okay okay okay *walks off and throws self into the atlantic ocean* I know nothing more, so please ask me nothing more about it.”
Fango turned around to leave, but there was no way I was letting him go so easily. I grabbed his arm.
“Hang on,” I growled. “How is she contacting you?”
Fango scowled at me and wrenched his arm from my grasp. “Carrier pigeon,” he spat at me. “From where she is sending the birds, I do not know. I know what she has requested, and I know I do not want to turn down her requests or fail to see them through.”
“Who is she?” Mr. Hardy asked.
“Scaramuccia.”
Mr. Hardy’s face went pale. No no no no no no no no no no no no no *keeps swimming through the atlantic ocean* “What does she want?” Mr. Hardy asked.
“Revenge,” I answered.
There was no sound from the three of us for a moment as the implications of my statement sank in. Hopelessness started creeping in, too. No way out. No way to rescue.
Mr. Hardy’s logical mind broke the trance. “Mr. Fango, as far as I know, you’ve done nothing wrong. I can’t detain you. But I have the feeling that what you are doing, you are not doing because you want to.”
He paused, but Fango didn’t offer the answer that the pause was intended for.
“If you need help, my home is open to you,” Mr. Hardy finished. Without a word, Fango crossed the grassy lawn, mounted the motorcycle awaiting his return, and sped down the street. I wasn’t too surprised when I saw Joe speed down the street after him a few moments later.
Mr. Hardy then turned to me. “Will, you’re upset, and I understand why. But you need to cool it, or you’re going to get yourself and others in trouble.” Correct me if I'm wrong but I think Will's bad parts are Joe and Frank's bad parts combined...
“Sorry,” I offered pathetically.
“Keep your head, Will. No matter how much your heart is invested in the mystery you’re trying to solve, you’ve got to always keep your head.”
I wanted to snap back with something about knowing a thing or two about the mystery business, but it didn’t seem like Mr. Hardy would have appreciated the sarcasm at the moment.
Callie decided to stay at the Hardy’s for a while. Mr. Hardy put in a missing person’s report to the police. With the only light in the sky now being the stars, I decided it was time to go home.
I remembered Hannah then with a pang of guilt. Visiting hours were definitely over at the hospital by then, though, so I took the road that lead home.
I hated it, but all I could do was wait. Wait for demands. Wait for news from Joe. Wait for morning to come so that I could visit Hannah.
I buried my dog. Stop. Bringing. Up. The Dog. *cries into the atlantic ocean* I came inside and threw all the grocery bags into the refrigerator without even looking at what was in them. That little plush cardinal watched me the whole time, making sure I knew what a failure I was.
I plodded into the bedroom and plugged my cell phone in to charge; had to make sure that didn’t fail me now. I lay down and tried to sleep. The least I could do was be at my prime. But that same refrain kept drumming through my head,
There’s nothing I can do.
After a couple of hours of nightmares running through my head without falling asleep, I gave up and decided to try cleaning the house a bit. Maybe doing so would even help me find a clue.
Around 3 a.m. I wandered into the bathroom and just stared at myself for a moment. Cleaning the house wasn’t offering any help. Now, if Nancy were here, then she could probably find something pointing to Gina’s exact location. Solving mysteries was what she did. And now it was what I had to do. But I found myself unable. Pathetically unable.
I let out an angry cry and gripped the sides of the sink.
That’s when I saw it.
A pregnancy test.
I picked it up.
A positive pregnancy test.
The plush cardinal suddenly made sense. Nancy’s way of telling me that a little Cardinal was on its way. All of a sudden the thought of a baby Nancy/Will made me WAY too happy. Especially considering the current circumstances and all, but still. X)
I felt the blood drain from my face. The emotions inside me were singularly bipolar. Butterflies in my stomach danced for joy. But my heartbeat sped up, and it seemed like things couldn’t get any worse.
Gina had Frank. Gina had Nancy. And Gina had my child.
No ransom note. No blackmail. Just a message saying her only desire was revenge.
And there was nothing I could do. Exhausted and hopeless, I let out an anguished cry and fell to my knees in tears.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
The ending scene of this chapter was born as one of the first scenes of this story. I think the very first was Will coming home to find Nancy gone. But this one came to life almost immediately after. I was outside, sitting on top of our then-playhouse/now-chickencoop, and I was writing. Eleven Regrets was close to being finished at the time, if I remember correctly. I was thinking about freewriting something based on a mini-trgedy that had happened in our backyard. Something had broken into our bluebird house and had killed the mother and baby birds. I began to imagine what it would be like to be that father bird coming back to find that. Which then made me start to imagine what that might look like if it was humans... Wow that is such a dark inspiration for a story, and a ML for a Nancy Drew game at that. *claps* I love it. and then somehow I came up with this idea of writing an ML called "Bluebirds" that would follow the story of a father bluebird as it followed the story of a guy named Will Cardinal. They both would come back home and find things wrecked... but would Nancy and her baby's fate be the same as the bluebirds'? Eventually I decided to not go with the bluebird thing, and started calling this story "Cardinal" instead of "Bluebirds." And the reason Will's last name is Cardinal is because this whole story was inspired by bluebirds, haha. I decided on Will as the first name after deciding on the last name.
Anyway... that's how "Cardinal" first came into existence. It's changed so much since that original inception, but a few things have remained the same. Inspiration can come from anywhere!
Eloise - Oh my goodness Eloise you're too much. Ack. Haha. I definitely don't feel like this is worth dropping anything for but hey, I'll take it. XD Haha, I hadn't thought of it, but Iola does sound like Nico! I was trying to stay faithful to the canon description of her, and she sounded like a cat, soooooooo... female Nico. XD Okay so FOR THE RECORD I had left that comma out on purpose. XD Sometimes I intentionally break grammar rules because then the sentence flow matches better the way it sounds in my head. However... I changed my mind and put the comma back in. XD Baha. So thank for pointing that out, because it helped me to see that I actually like it more with the comma. XD Haha, the dialogue... So, I wasn't going to jaded adults. XD These guys are probably an average age of 25? I knEW IT! *dances around room because I predicted everyone's age even though you probably already said it/it was obvious* And since I'm in that age range, I think I can fairly say that people that age haven't changed a whole lot in their banter. XD I understand, I just feel like trauma would change a person a little more than just regular growing up does. Literally sometimes what shocks me is how much friends of mine haven't changed in the last ten years, baha. So anywho. XDXDXD Thanks so much for the feedback! But clearly, I am fighting back against that particular bit of advice pretty hard. XDXDXD Seriously, I so appreciate all of the editing and such that you're doing, even if I don't end up changing anything! Joe was SO FUN to write for in this story! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand... the next chapter is completely in his perspective! YES!!!!!! Honestly, I agree - Nancy Cardinal just... no. XD Oh, the sacrifices we make for love... Ha. YES RESPECT NED. Hehe I can't wait for you to keep reading. Also your faithful commenting is putting me to shame, just for the record. Haha. XDXDXD You just have to pay me back by faithfully commenting on my MLs whenever I actually write them and post them here.
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 17, 2019 12:59:32 GMT -5
Joe
The stars above watched as I engaged in a staring contest with an old farmhouse about twenty miles outside of Bayport. I was glad they weren’t keeping tally, because I had probably blinked 2,000 times in that last two hours.
I was hidden in a wooded area that wrapped around the farm’s fields of soybeans. It made the place feel eerily secluded, but the seclusion was probably the reason Fango had chosen it.
That, and the rare pigeon coop kept in the backyard. So predictable.
Fango had pulled into the long dirt driveway on his motorcycle and went straight inside the house. And then the mind-numbingly boring part of sleuthing started.
The stakeout.
I was ready to spend the night awake and watching the place, but thank my lucky stars it was only two hours. That’s when I noticed a pigeon, like a shadow cast by the property’s lights, as it burst from the thick forest and flew toward the loft behind the weather-beaten, once-white farmhouse. If it was carrying instructions for Fango, I knew he would be on the move any minute.
And just as I suspected, he was out the door only ten minutes later. Cautiously, I made my way to my own motorcycle, hidden near the road. Once I thought Fango was far enough away to not catch on to being followed, but still close enough for me to do just that, I started after him.
The game was afoot.
I followed Fango for an hour. He eventually pulled over into an apartment complex not far from Atlantic City. I decided to drive past to hopefully keep him from being suspicious, and then circle back after he’d had time to get inside.
But as I drove past, Fango waved at me and motioned for me to come over.
Shoot.
After a sharp U-turn, I pulled up in the parking lot and sat opposite him. I turned off my motorcycle, and then waited.
Your move, Fango.
His move was to throw his hands into the air. “Must I keep telling you all that this really is not necessary?”
He sounded calm through his thick Italian accent, which, admittedly, confused me a bit.
I pulled off my helmet. “What’s going on, Fango? What do you know about Gina?”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “I know she is dangerous, hateful, vengeful, and until tonight, was keeping my family captive so that I would do her bidding.”
“Your… family?”
“What kind of question is that? Yes, my family. My wife and two daughters.”
“Sorry, I guess… I just normally don’t picture international thieves as having families they care about.”
Fango narrowed his eyes. “It is because I care about them that I refuse to have anything to do with that kind of life anymore. Which is why the only way Gina could get me to help her was by kidnapping them.”
“Kidnapping seems to be her hobby.”
“Yes, yes, well, this small-talk is pleasant, but I would like to see my girls and get back to New York.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said, dismounting my bike.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust you, Fango.”
He resigned. “Fine.”
Then he went over to the small flowerbed in front of the complex and found a key. He said Gina had told him where to find it. I followed him as he led the way to the room his family was supposedly hidden in.
“Hey, Fango, listen,” I said as Fango reached the door and began to unlock it. “If everything you’re saying is true, and you need any help, then… I guess I just want you to know that my family would be glad to help you out.”
He glanced at me. “Yes, thank you. So your father said.” Then he opened the door.
And everything stopped.
At least, everything in Fango stopped. He froze, and it seemed like all the air was pulled from his lungs. His face paled in seconds. He fell to his knees, not blinking.
Though afraid of what I might see, I moved forward to figure out what had caused Fango’s reaction. “Fango, what…?” Then I saw and didn’t need to ask.
The apartment was empty, except for three wooden coffins – the adult-sized one in the middle, with two child-sized ones sitting on either side.
“No!” I screamed. Painted across the floor in front of the coffins, in elegant black letters,
Thank you for your service. But you still have a debt to pay. No one crosses Sognitrico.
Fango by now had gathered himself well enough to begin sobbing. He was convinced that those coffins were full. But I had to know for sure. I walked over to the middle one, put my hand on the lid, and swallowed. Then I lifted it. And wished I never had.
Fango had quieted for a moment to watch my reaction, probably hoping against hope that what he thought would be in there wasn’t. I couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Fango, I… I’m sorry,” I choked.
“No,” he groaned. He knelt there on his hands and knees and wept. Residents of the building heard him and came over to check out what was going on. One of them called the police. I called my dad and explained what had happened, and somehow we convinced Fango to stay with my parents. I was afraid to let him drive himself, afraid of what he might do. But we made it back safely, Fango only a zombie of a man.
Callie was at the house. She and my mom jumped to get Fango settled in. Meanwhile, my dad came out of the house to talk to me. Something we didn’t do much these days.
“It’s good to see you, son. I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.”
“I’m bringing her down, Dad. She’s a monster!”
This very issue had been what caused a rift between my family and me. No one approved of my tracking down Gina on the side for the last five years, and so instead of enduring their unending lectures and disapproval, I distanced myself from them. No one understood how dangerous she was. And now people were losing their lives because of it.
Dad sighed. I knew what was coming. “Joe…”
“Dad, stop! Are you serious? After this? After what you’ve seen her capable of? You’re still going to try to tell me I need to let it go? That it’s not worth it? That I should leave it to the perfectly-capable police, who somehow were incompetent enough to leave her on the run for five years and not protect this family?”
“Would you listen for a minute, hot-head?” my dad rebutted. I shut my mouth. “Yes, I do think you should leave it to the police. Not because I want Gina to stay on the run. Not because I don’t think you’re capable of bringing her down. Joe, I love you. I love you so much. And I do not want to find you in a coffin, too.”
A moment of silence passed between us. I didn’t really know how to respond to that. I couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t kill me. Because she might. But it was a risk I was willing to take.
Even more so when my dad continued. “Joe… have you checked your phone lately?”
As is the normal reaction to such a question, I pulled it out. “No, I’ve been stalking Fango all day so I kept it on do not disturb. Why…” A plethora of messages was waiting for me. I saw Frank’s name, and Gina’s name. My heart caught in my throat.
“She has Frank, Joe. And the only thing she’s asking for is revenge.”
I stared at my dad, clutching my phone, clenching my teeth. The witch had my brother.
“Joe, you understand why I was very hesitant to tell you this.”
“Yeah,” I growled, turning toward the road. “You didn’t want me to do what I’m about to do.”
I hated the way this was tearing my relationship with my dad apart. But I kept telling myself we could fix things after Gina was in jail. Or dead.
“Joe… Joe!” my dad pleaded. I kept walking.
I got to my motorcycle, put on my helmet, and aggressively started the engine. I was going to bring Gina down, or I was going to die trying.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Sooooo here's the first time that I'm not sure if this will squeak by the HeR violence rules or not. Haha. Aaaaaaaaand it's not the last time. But who knows. Maybe it'll make it. XD
Eloise - Ah, hahaha. What's her face. XD I actually was playing with my ability to describe rooms as I wrote this. It was so bad at times. Either white room syndrome or purple prose. XD Hopefully I've hit a happy balance - but if you notice anything and have any comments about it, I would so appreciate it. XD Uuuuuuum I have no idea if that should be italicized or not. XD I really need to look that up... FOOCL! I usually leave planning notes as comments to the side. I'm tempted to leave something in there now just for you. XDXDXD Welp, guess I'll know who the culprit is when The Italian starts world domination. XD I guess at least the Atlantic is near NJ... Ha, I'd never actually noticed it, but it does seem like Will has Joe and Frank's character flaws combined. XDXDXD I didn't force Will's character much (which sometimes made me afraid that he wouldn't be all that great of a character... ) so almost anything you notice about him is accidental. Except for a few things buuuuuuuuuuuuut that's for later hehehe... The thought of a baby Will/Nancy makes me happy, too. Hehe. You know, I bet the dark inspiration for this story is at least in part why the story itself pushes the HeR violence rules. That and the fact that Gina is a character. Ha. Ooooooooh the trauma maturity thing makes sense. These guys have been through a lot... Haha. Welp, before your posting things here happens, I REALLY should finally comment on your LIE AE... *facepalm* It'll happen! Eventually. Someday. *craws under rock*
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 17, 2019 13:54:34 GMT -5
This post interrupted my search on Amazon for every Nancy Drew book I don't already own and I'm not mad about it. X)Joe
The stars above watched as I engaged in a staring contest with an old farmhouse about twenty miles outside of Bayport. This opening line is so quintessentially Joe. Like wow I love it so much for some reason. Good job! I was glad they weren’t keeping tally, because I had probably blinked 2,000 times in that last two hours.
I was hidden in a wooded area that wrapped around the farm’s fields of soybeans. It made the place feel eerily secluded, but the seclusion was probably the reason Fango had chosen it.
That, and the rare pigeon coop kept in the backyard. So predictable.
Fango had pulled into the long dirt driveway on his motorcycle and went straight inside the house. And then the mind-numbingly boring part of sleuthing started.
The stakeout. Theorizing time (and also time for snacks)!
I was ready to spend the night awake and watching the place, but thank my lucky stars it was only two hours. That’s when I noticed a pigeon, like a shadow cast by the property’s lights, as it burst from the thick forest and flew toward the loft behind the weather-beaten, once-white farmhouse. If it was carrying instructions for Fango, I knew he would be on the move any minute.
And just as I suspected, he was out the door only ten minutes later. Cautiously, I made my way to my own motorcycle, hidden near the road. Once I thought Fango was far enough away to not catch on to being followed, but still close enough for me to do just that, I started after him.
The game was afoot.
I followed Fango for an hour. He eventually pulled over into an apartment complex not far from Atlantic City. I decided to drive past to hopefully keep him from being suspicious, and then circle back after he’d had time to get inside.
But as I drove past, Fango waved at me and motioned for me to come over. Okay XD
Shoot. Yeah.
After a sharp U-turn, I pulled up in the parking lot and sat opposite him. I turned off my motorcycle, and then waited.
Your move, Fango.
His move was to throw his hands into the air. “Must I keep telling you all that this really is not necessary?”
He sounded calm through his thick Italian accent, which, admittedly, confused me a bit.
I pulled off my helmet. “What’s going on, Fango? What do you know about Gina?”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “I know she is dangerous, hateful, vengeful, and until tonight, was keeping my family captive so that I would do her bidding.”
“Your… family?”
“What kind of question is that? Yes, my family. My wife and two daughters.”
“Sorry, I guess… I just normally don’t picture international thieves as having families they care about.”
Fango narrowed his eyes. “It is because I care about them that I refuse to have anything to do with that kind of life anymore. Which is why the only way Gina could get me to help her was by kidnapping them.”
“Kidnapping seems to be her hobby.”
“Yes, yes, well, this small-talk is pleasant, but I would like to see my girls and get back to New York.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said, dismounting my bike.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust you, Fango.” I love Joe. XD
He resigned. “Fine.”
Then he went over to the small flowerbed in front of the complex and found a key. He said Gina had told him where to find it. I followed him as he led the way to the room his family was supposedly hidden in.
“Hey, Fango, listen,” I said as Fango reached the door and began to unlock it. “If everything you’re saying is true, and you need any help, then… I guess I just want you to know that my family would be glad to help you out.”
He glanced at me. “Yes, thank you. So your father said.” Then he opened the door.
And everything stopped.
At least, everything in Fango stopped. He froze, and it seemed like all the air was pulled from his lungs. His face paled in seconds. He fell to his knees, not blinking.
Though afraid of what I might see, I moved forward to figure out what had caused Fango’s reaction. “Fango, what…?” Then I saw and didn’t need to ask.
The apartment was empty, except for three wooden coffins – the adult-sized one in the middle, with two child-sized ones sitting on either side.
“No!” I screamed. Painted across the floor in front of the coffins, in elegant black letters, I hate all of this. I mean I don't care about Fango really. But I hate all of this. XD (but in a good way obviously)
Thank you for your service. But you still have a debt to pay. No one crosses Sognitrico.
Fango by now had gathered himself well enough to begin sobbing. He was convinced that those coffins were full. But I had to know for sure. I walked over to the middle one, put my hand on the lid, and swallowed. Then I lifted it. And wished I never had.
Fango had quieted for a moment to watch my reaction, probably hoping against hope that what he thought would be in there wasn’t. I couldn’t look him in the eye. Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew
“Fango, I… I’m sorry,” I choked.
“No,” he groaned. He knelt there on his hands and knees and wept. Residents of the building heard him and came over to check out what was going on. One of them called the police. I called my dad and explained what had happened, and somehow we convinced Fango to stay with my parents. I was afraid to let him drive himself, afraid of what he might do. But we made it back safely, Fango only a zombie of a man.
Callie was at the house. She and my mom jumped to get Fango settled in. Meanwhile, my dad came out of the house to talk to me. Something we didn’t do much these days.
“It’s good to see you, son. I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.”
“I’m bringing her down, Dad. She’s a monster!”
This very issue had been what caused a rift between my family and me. No one approved of my tracking down Gina on the side for the last five years, Wait how old was everyone in One Flower? and so instead of enduring their unending lectures and disapproval, I distanced myself from them. No one understood how dangerous she was. And now people were losing their lives because of it.
Dad sighed. I knew what was coming. “Joe…”
“Dad, stop! Are you serious? After this? After what you’ve seen her capable of? You’re still going to try to tell me I need to let it go? That it’s not worth it? That I should leave it to the perfectly-capable police, who somehow were incompetent enough to leave her on the run for five years and not protect this family?”
“Would you listen for a minute, hot-head?” my dad rebutted. I shut my mouth. “Yes, I do think you should leave it to the police. Not because I want Gina to stay on the run. Not because I don’t think you’re capable of bringing her down. Joe, I love you. I love you so much. And I do not want to find you in a coffin, too.” Joe isn't a kid anymore. He is an actual adult. He is allowed to make his own decisions in his own life.
A moment of silence passed between us. I didn’t really know how to respond to that. I couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t kill me. Because she might. But it was a risk I was willing to take.
Even more so when my dad continued. “Joe… have you checked your phone lately?”
As is the normal reaction to such a question, I pulled it out. “No, I’ve been stalking Fango all day so I kept it on do not disturb. Why…” A plethora of messages was waiting for me. I saw Frank’s name, and Gina’s name. My heart caught in my throat.
“She has Frank, Joe. And the only thing she’s asking for is revenge.”
I stared at my dad, clutching my phone, clenching my teeth. The witch had my brother.
“Joe, you understand why I was very hesitant to tell you this.”
“Yeah,” I growled, turning toward the road. “You didn’t want me to do what I’m about to do.” YAY JOE GO GO JOE WHOOOOOOO!!!!!
I hated the way this was tearing my relationship with my dad apart. But I kept telling myself we could fix things after Gina was in jail. Or dead.
“Joe… Joe!” my dad pleaded. I kept walking.
I got to my motorcycle, put on my helmet, and aggressively started the engine. I was going to bring Gina down, or I was going to die trying.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Sooooo here's the first time that I'm not sure if this will squeak by the HeR violence rules or not. Haha. Aaaaaaaaand it's not the last time. But who knows. Maybe it'll make it. XD
Eloise - Ah, hahaha. What's her face. XD I actually was playing with my ability to describe rooms as I wrote this. It was so bad at times. Either white room syndrome or purple prose. XD Hopefully I've hit a happy balance - but if you notice anything and have any comments about it, I would so appreciate it. XD Uuuuuuum I have no idea if that should be italicized or not. XD I really need to look that up... FOOCL! I usually leave planning notes as comments to the side. I'm tempted to leave something in there now just for you. XDXDXD XDXDXD Welp, guess I'll know who the culprit is when The Italian starts world domination. XD I guess at least the Atlantic is near NJ... Ha, I'd never actually noticed it, but it does seem like Will has Joe and Frank's character flaws combined. XDXDXD I didn't force Will's character much (which sometimes made me afraid that he wouldn't be all that great of a character... ) so almost anything you notice about him is accidental. Except for a few things buuuuuuuuuuuuut that's for later hehehe... The thought of a baby Will/Nancy makes me happy, too. Hehe. You know, I bet the dark inspiration for this story is at least in part why the story itself pushes the HeR violence rules. That and the fact that Gina is a character. Ha. Ooooooooh the trauma maturity thing makes sense. These guys have been through a lot... Haha. Welp, before your posting things here happens, I REALLY should finally comment on your LIE AE... *facepalm* It'll happen! Eventually. Someday. *craws under rock* I just won't post anything UNLESS and UNTIL you comment XD
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 19, 2019 11:51:26 GMT -5
FrankAfter five years of blindness, you’d think I’d stop waking up expecting to see. But still, there were mornings when my eyes would open and I would flinch at the unexpected blackness, only to remember I would probably see nothing else as long as I lived.
However, I had an excuse this time. As I came to, I realized that I couldn’t move my arms or legs. My mind began to race to figure things out before I had been awake long enough to even open my eyes. It had been a while, but all those times of being knocked out and tied up in the past, and all the training I had been through regarding what to do in such a situation, flooded back to me like second nature. Ah, the good ol’ days.
That’s when I snapped my eyes open and was surprised by the black. My first thought was that I must be blindfolded, but then I remembered. This wasn’t the good ol’ days. This was five years since my last ATAC mission, and I was blind.
Oh, Jesus, help me, I prayed.
Though blind, I was a far cry from helpless. In seconds I had assessed both my restraints – I was in a wooden chair, my legs tied to its legs, my arms tied to its sides – and my surroundings. Believe it or not, echolocation is a skill humans can learn to a degree, thanks to the incredible ability of the brain to rewire itself to work with what it has available. Some blind people can even ride bikes using echolocation as their guide. I used it now to discern that there was a table in front of me. I could tell that I was sitting at the far end of a rectangular room, and there was some kind of opening in the wall opposite me.
I could hear what I thought might be a refrigerator running. I could also hear a muffled chorus of nocturnal insects, and decided that there must be a window somewhere nearby. My guess was that I was in a kitchen with a dining area. This place seemed way too homey to be the lair of a kidnapper. But I guess even criminals have to eat.
Then I heard human noises for the first time and strained my ears to catch every sound. I didn’t speak, waiting for them to make the first move.
I heard them walk across the room. They sounded hesitant. They pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.
“Hello,” she said, with what might be the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. This was the second time I’d heard that voice. The first was when she introduced herself to me as Isabella, asked me to help her with a flat tire, tranquilized Scout, and knocked me out.
“You’re probably mad at me,” she continued. I didn’t respond. “I’m sorry that I had to kidnap you.”
There was a moment of silence between us and then she spoke again. “Are you hungry?” The truth was that I was, but I wasn’t sure how she was going to remedy that without untying me. Feeding me? That sounded humiliating.
“No,” I told her. Then I thought of something.
“Where is Scout?”
“She’s groggy, but she’s fine,” Isabella responded, reading the deeper question in my tone before answering the actual question I had asked. “I have her locked up in another room. I couldn’t risk her letting you free somehow. Or her getting out of the house.”
“What’s your name? Really?” I asked her.
She was silent for a moment. “You can call me Isabella.”
So she didn’t trust me. The feeling was mutual.
“What do you want?”
She sighed. “I want you to be safe. I want Nancy to be safe. And I want to make up for many of the wrong things I have done.”
“By kidnapping me.”
“You wouldn’t understand unless I gave you my whole story.”
“I have time.”
She was silent for a moment. “I need to tell you, Frank, that if something happens to me, there is a recorder on the table that contains my full confession. Or if you somehow escape, please do not leave without it. It could be my only leverage.”
“So why not just give me your story?”
“Because I would like to avoid jail if I can. So if kidnapping you and threatening to tell you everything unless my enemy relents is enough to spare those she would harm, I will go no further. But if it comes to it, I am willing to face prison if others are kept safe.”
Then, quietly and gently, I asked a straightforward question. “Are you involved in Sognitrico?”
Her response to that question was all the answer I needed. Extended silence. Then, “May I ask you a question?”
“Are you going to answer mine?”
“I think I already have.”
Her honestly and insight impressed me, but didn’t earn my trust. “I won’t promise to answer,” I responded.
And she asked, “Does God want me to go to jail?”
That wasn’t anything close to what I was expecting. “Does… what?” I answered.
I heard her shift in her chair. She seemed uncomfortable. “I know that you’ve been a Christian for a few years, and though these circumstances are not ideal, this is something I have been wrestling with since I became a Christian a few days ago, and I was hoping you could help me understand.”
Plot twist. However, there was one of two things going on here. She could be telling the truth. Or she could be lying. Jesus, please give me discernment.
“You’re a Christian who kidnaps people and hides from the police.”
“As I said, it’s only been a few days. Please, I… I really am trying to follow Jesus.”
“We need to talk about what it means to follow Jesus.”
Then I heard a distinct sound that always made me uncomfortable, and realized she was crying. “I have lost everything for His sake. Don’t try to tell me I don’t know what it means to follow Jesus.” Her voice shook.
“Hey, I didn’t…” I paused, deciding to skip trying to defend myself. “That was a bad joke. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
I heard her sniff and clear her throat, probably trying to regain composure. “Yes,” she said simply.
“I don’t know how well I can answer your questions, but I can give it a shot.”
We must have been up for hours after that. I felt like I knew so little, but I offered the little I had to her. She was so eager, so full of questions, so desirous to do God’s will, no matter the cost. It was one of the most refreshing conversations I’d ever had.
“You have given me much to consider,” Isabella finally said.
“Just remember, whatever happens, it’ll be okay. Jesus will remain faithful. And He’ll see you through.”
“Thank you, Frank,” she replied, her voice full of genuine gratitude. I was pretty well convinced at this point that she was the real deal. I just hoped I was right.
Then she was quiet for a moment. I didn’t speak either, unsure of what she was processing. In that silence, I realized just how uncomfortable this chair had become. I tried to shift a little bit, but there’s only so much you can do when you’re tied – and duct-taped – to a chair.
“I do feel bad leaving you there,” Isabella said, clearly reading my discomfort.
“Clearly that’s your resurrected conscience telling you to untie me,” I joked, hoping she would take it that way.
“Frank, will you… promise me something?” she asked.
“I won’t say yes or no until I know what I’m promising.”
“If… I untie you… will you promise to not leave the couch, for any reason?”
She was starting to trust me. I thought I would press my luck. “Will you tell me your name?”
“No,” she answered quickly.
I sighed. “All right. Here are my conditions. Give me a glass of water, and let me use the bathroom first. Then, I promise.”
I could feel her smile. “Deal.”
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Frank was one of my favorite characters to write for in this. Part of that was because of how I envisioned his personality in this ML, haha. But part of it was also because he's blind. It was SO FUN to think through how a blind person would process things, tells stories, and describe things. And for the record, the echolocation thing is 100% true. Google it if you doubt me. XD
On Monday I'll post the last chapter of part one, bringing us to the halfway mark! After I post Monday's chapter, I might flee the country. If you don't hate me yet, you'll really hate me then. So stay tuned. 
Eloise - Haha, thanks! Ugh like... that whole thing with the coffins was hard to write. But essential to the plot and how it drives the characters forward... And I got an odd pleasure from trying to figure out how to write it in a way that miiiiiiiiiiiiight pass the violence rules. XD "One Flower" took place about a year after "Eleven Regrets," so they were around 19, 20. Joe is definitely not letting his dad make decisions for him, haha...
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 19, 2019 16:00:23 GMT -5
This is the first time I knew a chapter was out but I didn't because I wanted to finish the audiobook I was listening to XD FrankAfter five years of blindness, you’d think I’d stop waking up expecting to see. That's so sad...  But still, there were mornings when my eyes would open and I would flinch at the unexpected blackness, only to remember I would probably see nothing else as long as I lived.
However, I had an excuse this time. As I came to, I realized that I couldn’t move my arms or legs. My mind began to race to figure things out before I had been awake long enough to even open my eyes. It had been a while, but all those times of being knocked out and tied up in the past, and all the training I had been through regarding what to do in such a situation, flooded back to me like second nature. Ah, the good ol’ days.
That’s when I snapped my eyes open and was surprised by the black. My first thought was that I must be blindfolded, but then I remembered. This wasn’t the good ol’ days. This was five years since my last ATAC mission, and I was blind.
Oh, Jesus, help me, I prayed.
Though blind, I was a far cry from helpless. In seconds I had assessed both my restraints – I was in a wooden chair, my legs tied to its legs, my arms tied to its sides – and my surroundings. Believe it or not, echolocation is a skill humans can learn to a degree, thanks to the incredible ability of the brain to rewire itself to work with what it has available. This is one of my favorite things about the human brain. I find it is one of the most fascinating things that us as humans can do and realize is happening. Humans are adaptable and this is one of our greatest strengths. Without that adaptability I highly doubt that humanity as a species would have ever gotten this far. Some blind people can even ride bikes using echolocation as their guide. I used it now to discern that there was a table in front of me. I could tell that I was sitting at the far end of a rectangular room, and there was some kind of opening in the wall opposite me.
I could hear what I thought might be a refrigerator running. I could also hear a muffled chorus of nocturnal insects, and decided that there must be a window somewhere nearby. My guess was that I was in a kitchen with a dining area. This place seemed way too homey to be the lair of a kidnapper. But I guess even criminals have to eat.
Then I heard human noises for the first time and strained my ears to catch every sound. I didn’t speak, waiting for them to make the first move.
I heard them walk across the room. They sounded hesitant. They pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.
“Hello,” she said, with what might be the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. This was the second time I’d heard that voice. The first was when she introduced herself to me as Isabella, asked me to help her with a flat tire, tranquilized Scout, and knocked me out.
“You’re probably mad at me,” she continued. I didn’t respond. “I’m sorry that I had to kidnap you.”
There was a moment of silence between us and then she spoke again. “Are you hungry?” The truth was that I was, but I wasn’t sure how she was going to remedy that without untying me. Feeding me? That sounded humiliating.
“No,” I told her. Then I thought of something.
“Where is Scout?”
“She’s groggy, but she’s fine,” Isabella responded, reading the deeper question in my tone before answering the actual question I had asked. “I have her locked up in another room. I couldn’t risk her letting you free somehow. Or her getting out of the house.”
“What’s your name? Really?” I asked her.
She was silent for a moment. “You can call me Isabella.”
So she didn’t trust me. The feeling was mutual.
“What do you want?”
She sighed. “I want you to be safe. I want Nancy to be safe. And I want to make up for many of the wrong things I have done.”
“By kidnapping me.”
“You wouldn’t understand unless I gave you my whole story.”
“I have time.”
She was silent for a moment. “I need to tell you, Frank, that if something happens to me, there is a recorder on the table that contains my full confession. Or if you somehow escape, please do not leave without it. It could be my only leverage.”
“So why not just give me your story?”
“Because I would like to avoid jail if I can. So if kidnapping you and threatening to tell you everything unless my enemy relents is enough to spare those she would harm, I will go no further. But if it comes to it, I am willing to face prison if others are kept safe.”
Then, quietly and gently, I asked a straightforward question. “Are you involved in Sognitrico?”
Her response to that question was all the answer I needed. Extended silence. Then, “May I ask you a question?”
“Are you going to answer mine?”
“I think I already have.”
Her honestly this should be honesty. not honestly. and insight impressed me, but didn’t earn my trust. “I won’t promise to answer,” I responded.
And she asked, “Does God want me to go to jail?”
That wasn’t anything close to what I was expecting. “Does… what?” I answered.
I heard her shift in her chair. She seemed uncomfortable. “I know that you’ve been a Christian for a few years, and though these circumstances are not ideal, this is something I have been wrestling with since I became a Christian a few days ago, and I was hoping you could help me understand.”
Plot twist. However, there was one of two things going on here. She could be telling the truth. Or she could be lying. Jesus, please give me discernment.
“You’re a Christian who kidnaps people and hides from the police.”
“As I said, it’s only been a few days. Please, I… I really am trying to follow Jesus.”
“We need to talk about what it means to follow Jesus.”
Then I heard a distinct sound that always made me uncomfortable, and realized she was crying. “I have lost everything for His sake. Don’t try to tell me I don’t know what it means to follow Jesus.” Her voice shook.
“Hey, I didn’t…” I paused, deciding to skip trying to defend myself. “That was a bad joke. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
I heard her sniff and clear her throat, probably trying to regain composure. “Yes,” she said simply.
“I don’t know how well I can answer your questions, but I can give it a shot.”
We must have been up for hours after that. I felt like I knew so little, but I offered the little I had to her. She was so eager, so full of questions, so desirous to do God’s will, no matter the cost. It was one of the most refreshing conversations I’d ever had.
“You have given me much to consider,” Isabella finally said.
“Just remember, whatever happens, it’ll be okay. Jesus will remain faithful. And He’ll see you through.”
“Thank you, Frank,” she replied, her voice full of genuine gratitude. I was pretty well convinced at this point that she was the real deal. I just hoped I was right.
Then she was quiet for a moment. I didn’t speak either, unsure of what she was processing. In that silence, I realized just how uncomfortable this chair had become. I tried to shift a little bit, but there’s only so much you can do when you’re tied – and duct-taped – to a chair.
“I do feel bad leaving you there,” Isabella said, clearly reading my discomfort.
“Clearly that’s your resurrected conscience telling you to untie me,” I joked, hoping she would take it that way.
“Frank, will you… promise me something?” she asked.
“I won’t say yes or no until I know what I’m promising.”
“If… I untie you… will you promise to not leave the couch, for any reason?”
She was starting to trust me. I thought I would press my luck. “Will you tell me your name?”
“No,” she answered quickly.
I sighed. “All right. Here are my conditions. Give me a glass of water, and let me use the bathroom first. Then, I promise.”
I could feel her smile. “Deal.”
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Frank was one of my favorite characters to write for in this. Part of that was because of how I envisioned his personality in this ML, haha. But part of it was also because he's blind. It was SO FUN to think through how a blind person would process things, tells stories, and describe things. And for the record, the echolocation thing is 100% true. Google it if you doubt me. XD
On Monday I'll post the last chapter of part one, bringing us to the halfway mark! Wait? WHAT? After I post Monday's chapter, I might flee the country. If you don't hate me yet, you'll really hate me then. So stay tuned. WAIT whAT?
Eloise - Haha, thanks! Ugh like... that whole thing with the coffins was hard to write. But essential to the plot and how it drives the characters forward... And I got an odd pleasure from trying to figure out how to write it in a way that miiiiiiiiiiiiight pass the violence rules. XD "One Flower" took place about a year after "Eleven Regrets," so they were around 19, 20. Ok, haha, for some reason my brain was telling me, "No no it took place immediatly after Eleven Regrets. For some reason." Joe is definitely not letting his dad make decisions for him, haha...
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 22, 2019 9:07:11 GMT -5
Will
I awoke on the bathroom floor with a desperate longing for everything from the day before to have all been a dream. But the house was empty. There was a scar in the backyard where Togo lay. This nightmare was reality.
After a glass of water for breakfast, I called Joe. No answer. But a minute later, he texted me.
Following lead I’ll call you
So, after a quick stop at the grocer’s for a bouquet of yellow carnations, my next move was to finally go see Hannah. Despite being beat up, she remained her sweet and gracious self, and was delighted that I had thought to “brighten” her room with flowers. It didn’t even seem to occur to her that it had taken me quite a while to come see her. After giving her the hug she demanded and setting the bouquet on the window sill, I sat down next to her bed in the generic hospital room.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Oh, black and blue all over. I’ll survive. But William,” she continued, turning the conversation away from herself, “is Nancy all right?”
I wasn’t sure how much to tell her. Mentioning Gina definitely didn’t seem like the best course of action. So I thought I would probe instead.
“What makes you ask?”
“William, you’re avoiding my question.”
Busted. “Yeah. I’ll answer, but… what do you remember, Hannah? What happened?”
Hannah closed her eyes and leaned back into her bed. “It was awful,” she began. “The doorbell rang, but I was on the back porch. Nancy went to answer it. I could faintly hear some voices. It – William, I thought it sounded friendly. I really did. But then the house was silent, and it seemed like only a minute later, Togo started barking. I wondered if maybe Nancy had just gone out to the front porch to enjoy time with whomever had arrived, but it was strange that she wasn’t doing anything to comfort Togo, you know? So I went inside to make sure everything was all right.
“I heard the front door open, and Togo sounded even more upset. I rounded the corner and brave little Togo was growling at her and…” Hannah stopped. “Poor little Togo,” she said quietly.
I hadn’t realized that I was leaning forward in my chair, as if getting closer to Hannah could help me jump into her own memories. When she stopped, I found myself starved for more information like someone plunged underwater starves for oxygen. “Who was she?” I asked, maybe sooner than was polite.
“I… I don’t know for sure,” Hannah replied. “But she was black. All black, her hair, her lips, her eyes, the mask that covered half of her face… it made what part of her face I could see look sickly pale.”
Once I had thought that maybe, finally, this woman could only touch my nightmares. No. This confirmed it. Gina was back.
And there’s nothing I can do.
I groaned, closing my eyes at the thought.
Hannah started. “Oh, William, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
“No, it’s not you,” I said hastily. “Was there anything else?”
Hannah thought for a moment, then added, “She spoke to me in a language I didn’t understand. I think maybe it was Italian. I thought about running to the phone but I was afraid she would shoot me. I tried to be brave. If only Nancy could have been there. I asked the woman what she wanted, and she yelled at me to tell her where Nancy was. I told her I didn’t know and said that maybe I could help her with whatever it was she needed. Then…”
Hannah stopped long enough to swallow. When she spoke again her voice was shaking. “Then she told me that my assistance wouldn’t be necessary. She said that all she wanted was revenge. And then she knocked me out. I woke up here.”
There was a silence between us until she asked, “So please, tell me: is Nancy okay?”
I hung my head. I took a deep breath to tell her that Nancy was gone. There is nothing I can do. “I don’t know, Hannah,” I said. “Nancy’s missing, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, William,” Hannah answered, “I believe you should start with finding her.”
I let out a laugh and met Hannah’s eye. She had that Oh, you think I’m joking look in her face. She was serious, so I got serious, too. “But how?” I asked her.
“You need to stop putting yourself down, beating yourself up, and letting these past regrets of yours haunt you. Despairing and believing that you can’t do anything is going to get you nowhere. And it might even get Nancy killed. So stop it.”
I just stared at Hannah with my mouth open for a moment.
“William, I may be a sweet old lady, but I love you enough that I’ll whip you when you need it.”
And I hadn’t realized how much I had needed it. I believed that I was defeated, and I was defeated the moment that I believed that. For Nancy’s sake, self-pity was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
But even with a surge of desire to move forward, I didn’t know what to do. There were no other clues in the house; Gina had just come and…
Wait.
I sat up straighter. “Hannah, did you say that Gina demanded that you tell her where Nancy is?”
Hannah nodded, waiting for me to explain the question. I jumped out of my chair. “Then Gina doesn’t have Nancy!”
Hannah’s eyes brightened with understanding. “Oh! Nancy answered the door, and whoever had come must have whisked her away…”
And the question now was, where had Nancy gone? And why?
I looked Hannah in the eye. “I will find her, Hannah.”
Hannah smiled at me weakly. “Honestly, that’s what I’m afraid of. Losing Nancy would tear me apart, but losing both of you might put me in the grave early as well.
“You’ve always been her hero, and it sounds like you’ll need to be her hero again. Please, don’t take any unnecessary risks.
“But… do find her, Will. Find our Nancy.”
I nodded. With this new fire in me, I was ready to go out and take on the world. I kissed Hannah goodbye and made her promise to let me know when they released her so I could make sure she got home safely. Then, after texting Joe about my new lead, I went back to my own home, ready to tackle this mystery from a new angle.
Up to now, I hadn’t looked much into Nancy’s things. I had assumed that Gina had Nancy, and spent all my energy trying to find Gina. But maybe someone had come for a visit. Maybe Nancy caught wind of Gina’s arrival and left somewhere on her own.
Something in me was bothered that it made no sense that Nancy would have gone away without letting me know what was going on, but I pushed that thought to the backburner as I burst inside the house, not even taking the time to shut the front door. It wasn’t like I had anything to lose, and every moment counted. I bounded toward our kitchen to scour through everything she had written on.
But when I turned the corner into the kitchen, a flash of black caught my vision. Before I could even register what was going on, I was unconscious.
I don’t know how long it had been when I woke up, but it was long enough for my attacker to both tie and duct tape my feet and hands behind my back and to a leg of the kitchen table, so that I woke up kneeling on the floor.
She must have noticed that I was awake. She came around to the front of me, casually toying with a knife. I wondered if the daggers in her eyes made it jealous.
She was as I remembered her. Simultaneously the picture of purity and the picture of evil. Always hiding behind that black mask.
“I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to this,” Gina said, pacing in front of me. “You were going to watch Nancy die. Then I was going to leave you here to wallow in your misery as I hunted down every person you’ve ever loved and took them away from you, too. But then Nancy disappeared.”
She got down to my level, keeping her eyes on the knife, dexterously sliding it through her fingers. “I was very disappointed when that happened. But I think it’ll add to the fun. You see,” she said, making eye contact with me for the first time, “Nancy is very fond of you. So if I want her to come out of hiding, I think that really, all I have to do is cause you some pain and make sure she knows about it. Then when she comes, I will kill her, causing you more pain.
“So really, this is all going to work out for the…”
I saw him long before Gina did. While her attention was still on the knife, Joe showed up just outside the kitchen doorway. I strained to keep my attention on Gina, not wanting her to be suspicious of him for a moment.
Then he made his move.
Joe
The witch. There she was, doing what she did best: being nasty. I had come to the Cardinal home to help Will with his lead, after scouring Fango’s farmhouse hideout had turned up nothing useful. When I saw that the front door was open, I knew something was wrong.
I didn’t realize how wrong it was.
At the same time, this was so right.
Gina. She was right there. Feet from me. About to go down. About to pay for all she had done. This was it.
I listened for a moment, knowing I needed to keep myself cool. I couldn’t afford a mistake. Not now.
I heard her threats. I heard her talk about killing, about causing pain, and about enjoying every minute of it. I felt every ounce of hatred I had bottled up inside toward her. I thought of the lives she had taken – and those just the ones I knew of. I thought of the pain she had caused. I thought of Frank.
And today, instead of holding all this inside, I was finally going to be able to let it out.
I jumped on her in a fury.
The element of surprise was on my side, and for a glorious moment, I thought she was mine.
Then I found out the hard way that she had a surprise of her own.
It’s amazing how much something so simple can turn the tides of a fight. And as things stopped going my way, I remembered something I had thought as I left my dad the other day. I was going to bring Gina down, or I was going to die trying.
Can’t say that I really wanted my sincerity with that statement to be tested. Can’t say I had a choice.
But this I could say. I hated her with my last breath.
Will
Blind rage. Fury of motion. A scuffle. A strike.
And almost before I could register the fact that Joe had jumped, he was doubled over, eyes shocked, staggering backward. He fell at the door frame, and all I could see were his feet.
“JOE!” I cried out. No response. Gina interrupted my concern.
“I find this rather inspiring,” she said, looking Joe’s way.
“Joe, answer me!” I called.
She turned to me. “I don’t think I’m going to hurt you after all. At least, not yet.” And once again, she got down to my level. “Here is what I’m going to do instead.
“For every day that Nancy is missing, someone will die. Someone who otherwise I would have left alone. I have a feeling that something like that will be more painful to the both of you.”
She paused. “Yes. I think I like that idea better.
“You’ve taken everything from me. Now I’m going to do much worse to you. I’ll show you my power. I’ll teach you to respect me.”
She leaned in. “Ned. Nickerson.”
My blood ran cold as my face grew hot.
All the sacrifice, all the hiding, everything Nancy and I and everyone else had done to just live normal lives free from this… witch. It was all a waste. I, Ned Nickerson, had failed. Again.
A growl erupted in my throat as I felt something I never dreamed myself capable of – pure, unhindered, murderous wrath.
“I HATE YOU!” I screamed, straining against the table.
She laughed. Then she grabbed my cell phone, dialed 911, set the phone on the floor in front of me, and left. And for the second time in two days, police were at my home, cleaning up Gina’s mess.
Declaring dead the bodies she left behind.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Uuuuuum... yep that happened *runs to Mexico*
This scene was a part of the original vision for "Bluebirds." The kill, the reveal. Feeling "Will's" rage was almost... scary. And definitely uncomfortable. In some early versions, no one actually died. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Even allowing it here was hard... buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut for the sake of the story... muahahaha. XD
Oh, and this chapter was going to be longer, but I decided to split it because continuing kinda took away from what was going on and I think people need a chance to hate me/grieve. Haha. So there will be 15 sections now, and Wednesday will be the last section of Part 1. Friday will be the first section of Part 2. And Part 2... there's a lot in there that you probably will never see coming. hehehehehehehehe
Eloise - I am both excited and slightly terrified for you to read today's chapter. XDXDXD I am SO FASCINATED with the brain! But to be honest, it leaves me more in awe of the God who created it than in the humans that use it, haha. Um yes that should definitely be honesty. XD It's frustrating when I've passed over this entire thing SO MANY TIMES and there are still typos that I missed. But that's what you guys are for, right? XDXDXD
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 23, 2019 17:27:13 GMT -5
I was so busy reading books yesterday that I completely forgot to read this but here I am now to read and be mad and whatever else I feelWillI awoke on the bathroom floor with a desperate longing for everything from the day before to have all been a dream. But the house was empty. There was a scar in the backyard where Togo lay. STOP. TALKING. ABOUT. DEAD. TOGO. This nightmare was reality.
After a glass of water for breakfast, I called Joe. No answer. But a minute later, he texted me.
Following lead I’ll call you
So, after a quick stop at the grocer’s for a bouquet of yellow carnations, my next move was to finally go see Hannah. Despite being beat up, she remained her sweet and gracious self, and was delighted that I had thought to “brighten” her room with flowers. It didn’t even seem to occur to her that it had taken me quite a while to come see her. After giving her the hug she demanded and setting the bouquet on the window sill, I sat down next to her bed in the generic hospital room.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Oh, black and blue all over. I’ll survive. But William,” she continued, turning the conversation away from herself, “is Nancy all right?”
I wasn’t sure how much to tell her. Mentioning Gina definitely didn’t seem like the best course of action. So I thought I would probe instead.
“What makes you ask?”
“William, you’re avoiding my question.”
Busted. “Yeah. I’ll answer, but… what do you remember, Hannah? What happened?”
Hannah closed her eyes and leaned back into her bed. “It was awful,” she began. “The doorbell rang, but I was on the back porch. Nancy went to answer it. I could faintly hear some voices. It – William, I thought it sounded friendly. I really did. But then the house was silent, and it seemed like only a minute later, Togo started barking. I wondered if maybe Nancy had just gone out to the front porch to enjoy time with whomever had arrived, but it was strange that she wasn’t doing anything to comfort Togo, you know? So I went inside to make sure everything was all right.
“I heard the front door open, and Togo sounded even more upset. I rounded the corner and brave little Togo was growling at her and…” Hannah stopped. “Poor little Togo,” *Eloise is very mad at Olivia for talking about Togo so much* she said quietly.
I hadn’t realized that I was leaning forward in my chair, as if getting closer to Hannah could help me jump into her own memories. When she stopped, I found myself starved for more information like someone plunged underwater starves for oxygen. “Who was she?” I asked, maybe sooner than was polite.
“I… I don’t know for sure,” Hannah replied. “But she was black. All black, her hair, her lips, her eyes, the mask that covered half of her face… it made what part of her face I could see look sickly pale.”
Once I had thought that maybe, finally, this woman could only touch my nightmares. No. This confirmed it. Gina was back. Just wondering but do you have any dream cast images of Gina or is she just a figment of your imagination?
And there’s nothing I can do.
I groaned, closing my eyes at the thought.
Hannah started. “Oh, William, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
“No, it’s not you,” I said hastily. “Was there anything else?”
Hannah thought for a moment, then added, “She spoke to me in a language I didn’t understand. I think maybe it was Italian. I thought about running to the phone but I was afraid she would shoot me. I tried to be brave. If only Nancy could have been there. I asked the woman what she wanted, and she yelled at me to tell her where Nancy was. I told her I didn’t know and said that maybe I could help her with whatever it was she needed. Then…”
Hannah stopped long enough to swallow. When she spoke again her voice was shaking. “Then she told me that my assistance wouldn’t be necessary. She said that all she wanted was revenge. And then she knocked me out. I woke up here.”
There was a silence between us until she asked, “So please, tell me: is Nancy okay?”
I hung my head. I took a deep breath to tell her that Nancy was gone. There is nothing I can do. “I don’t know, Hannah,” I said. “Nancy’s missing, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, William,” Hannah answered, “I believe you should start with finding her.”
I let out a laugh and met Hannah’s eye. She had that Oh, you think I’m joking look in her face. She was serious, so I got serious, too. “But how?” I asked her.
“You need to stop putting yourself down, beating yourself up, and letting these past regrets of yours haunt you. Despairing and believing that you can’t do anything is going to get you nowhere. And it might even get Nancy killed. So stop it.”
I just stared at Hannah with my mouth open for a moment.
“William, I may be a sweet old lady, but I love you enough that I’ll whip you when you need it.”
And I hadn’t realized how much I had needed it. I believed that I was defeated, and I was defeated the moment that I believed that. For Nancy’s sake, self-pity was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
But even with a surge of desire to move forward, I didn’t know what to do. There were no other clues in the house; Gina had just come and…
Wait.
I sat up straighter. “Hannah, did you say that Gina demanded that you tell her where Nancy is?”
Hannah nodded, waiting for me to explain the question. I jumped out of my chair. “Then Gina doesn’t have Nancy!”
Hannah’s eyes brightened with understanding. “Oh! Nancy answered the door, and whoever had come must have whisked her away…”
And the question now was, where had Nancy gone? And why?
I looked Hannah in the eye. “I will find her, Hannah.”
Hannah smiled at me weakly. “Honestly, that’s what I’m afraid of. Losing Nancy would tear me apart, but losing both of you might put me in the grave early as well.
“You’ve always been her hero, and it sounds like you’ll need to be her hero again. Please, don’t take any unnecessary risks.
“But… do find her, Will. Find our Nancy.”
I nodded. With this new fire in me, I was ready to go out and take on the world. I kissed Hannah goodbye and made her promise to let me know when they released her so I could make sure she got home safely. Then, after texting Joe about my new lead, I went back to my own home, ready to tackle this mystery from a new angle.
Up to now, I hadn’t looked much into Nancy’s things. I had assumed that Gina had Nancy, and spent all my energy trying to find Gina. But maybe someone had come for a visit. Maybe Nancy caught wind of Gina’s arrival and left somewhere on her own.
Something in me was bothered that it made no sense that Nancy would have gone away without letting me know what was going on, but I pushed that thought to the backburner as I burst inside the house, not even taking the time to shut the front door. It wasn’t like I had anything to lose, and every moment counted. I bounded toward our kitchen to scour through everything she had written on.
But when I turned the corner into the kitchen, a flash of black caught my vision. Before I could even register what was going on, I was unconscious.
I don’t know how long it had been when I woke up, but it was long enough for my attacker to both tie and duct tape my feet and hands behind my back and to a leg of the kitchen table, so that I woke up kneeling on the floor.
She must have noticed that I was awake. She came around to the front of me, casually toying with a knife. I wondered if the daggers in her eyes made it jealous.
She was as I remembered her. Simultaneously the picture of purity and the picture of evil. Always hiding behind that black mask.
“I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to this,” Gina said, pacing in front of me. “You were going to watch Nancy die. Then I was going to leave you here to wallow in your misery as I hunted down every person you’ve ever loved and took them away from you, too. But then Nancy disappeared.”
She got down to my level, keeping her eyes on the knife, dexterously sliding it through her fingers. “I was very disappointed when that happened. But I think it’ll add to the fun. You see,” she said, making eye contact with me for the first time, “Nancy is very fond of you. So if I want her to come out of hiding, I think that really, all I have to do is cause you some pain and make sure she knows about it. Then when she comes, I will kill her, causing you more pain.
“So really, this is all going to work out for the…”
I saw him long before Gina did. While her attention was still on the knife, Joe YYYEEEEEEESSSS!!!!! JOOOOOOOEEEEEE!!!!! showed up just outside the kitchen doorway. I strained to keep my attention on Gina, not wanting her to be suspicious of him for a moment.
Then he made his move.
Joe
The witch. There she was, doing what she did best: being nasty. I had come to the Cardinal home to help Will with his lead, after scouring Fango’s farmhouse hideout had turned up nothing useful. When I saw that the front door was open, I knew something was wrong.
I didn’t realize how wrong it was.
At the same time, this was so right.
Gina. She was right there. Feet from me. About to go down. About to pay for all she had done. This was it.
I listened for a moment, knowing I needed to keep myself cool. I couldn’t afford a mistake. Not now.
I heard her threats. I heard her talk about killing, about causing pain, and about enjoying every minute of it. I felt every ounce of hatred I had bottled up inside toward her. I thought of the lives she had taken – and those just the ones I knew of. I thought of the pain she had caused. I thought of Frank.
And today, instead of holding all this inside, I was finally going to be able to let it out.
I jumped on her in a fury.
The element of surprise was on my side, and for a glorious moment, I thought she was mine.
Then I found out the hard way that she had a surprise of her own.
It’s amazing how much something so simple can turn the tides of a fight. And as things stopped going my way, I remembered something I had thought as I left my dad the other day. I was going to bring Gina down, or I was going to die trying.
Can’t say that I really wanted my sincerity with that statement to be tested. Can’t say I had a choice.
But this I could say. I hated her with my last breath.
Will
Blind rage. Fury of motion. A scuffle. A strike.
And almost before I could register the fact that Joe had jumped, he was doubled over, eyes shocked, staggering backward. He fell at the door frame, and all I could see were his feet.
“JOE!” I cried out. No response. Gina interrupted my concern.
“I find this rather inspiring,” she said, looking Joe’s way.
“Joe, answer me!” I called.
She turned to me. “I don’t think I’m going to hurt you after all. At least, not yet.” And once again, she got down to my level. “Here is what I’m going to do instead.
“For every day that Nancy is missing, someone will die. *Eloise stops breathing* Someone who otherwise I would have left alone. *Eloise is now a ghost* I have a feeling that something like that will be more painful to the both of you.” *A very angry ghost*
She paused. “Yes. I think I like that idea better.
“You’ve taken everything from me. Now I’m going to do much worse to you. I’ll show you my power. I’ll teach you to respect me.”
She leaned in. “Ned. Nickerson.”
My blood ran cold as my face grew hot.
All the sacrifice, all the hiding, everything Nancy and I and everyone else had done to just live normal lives free from this… witch. It was all a waste. I, Ned Nickerson, had failed. Again. Was not expecting that. At all. Don't want that. Don't need that. I hate it. I wan't it to be deleted. No no no no no no no.
A growl erupted in my throat as I felt something I never dreamed myself capable of – pure, unhindered, murderous wrath.
“I HATE YOU!” I screamed, straining against the table.
She laughed. Then she grabbed my cell phone, dialed 911, set the phone on the floor in front of me, and left. And for the second time in two days, police were at my home, cleaning up Gina’s mess.
Declaring dead the bodies she left behind.
I don't know what to think of this chapter. Honestly... I'll have to let it sit for a bit...
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Uuuuuum... yep that happened *runs to Mexico*
This scene was a part of the original vision for "Bluebirds." The kill, the reveal. Feeling "Will's" rage was almost... scary. And definitely uncomfortable. In some early versions, no one actually died. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Even allowing it here was hard... buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut for the sake of the story... muahahaha. XD
Oh, and this chapter was going to be longer, but I decided to split it because continuing kinda took away from what was going on and I think people need a chance to hate me/grieve. Haha. So there will be 15 sections now, and Wednesday will be the last section of Part 1. Friday will be the first section of Part 2. And Part 2... there's a lot in there that you probably will never see coming. hehehehehehehehe I definitely never saw this chapter coming. What I THOUGHT was going to end up happening would be that Will was just Will, a man who had connections to Gina and such from his past, and that NED as in just Ned warned Nancy about Gina and they ran off together (but in the end Ned Ned would die somehow because we gotta be sad and all).
Eloise - I am both excited and slightly terrified for you to read today's chapter. XDXDXD I am SO FASCINATED with the brain! But to be honest, it leaves me more in awe of the God who created it than in the humans that use it, haha. Um yes that should definitely be honesty. XD It's frustrating when I've passed over this entire thing SO MANY TIMES and there are still typos that I missed. But that's what you guys are for, right? XDXDXD
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 24, 2019 11:09:15 GMT -5
NedI arrived at Fenton and Laura’s home before Fenton even did. By now he knew what had happened that morning, though. News of Joe’s death was spreading fast, and soon Bayport would be reeling in the impact. For now, those who loved and knew Joe best were beginning to gather at the Hardy home, uninvited but welcome, all seeking to make sense of this pain together.
Callie opened the door when I arrived. Her plain face and relaxed clothing were evidence that she’d left her house quickly. Her appearance didn’t affect her poise.
“Hey, Will. Come in.” She gave me a quick hug as I stepped inside. “If you’re hungry at all, there are sandwiches in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Callie. Where’s Laura?”
“The living room… but Will… I wondered… have you heard anything about Frank?”
I shook my head. “Sorry.”
“Will?”
I turned to Laura standing in the living room doorway, face red and wet, arms hugging her sides. Joe used to joke that he got his good looks from his mom, from whom he’d gotten his blonde hair and blue eyes. I’d never seen her look more unlike Joe, though. Vulnerable and lost.
I pulled my Bayport mom into a hug. “I’m so sorry.” Sometimes those words feel pathetic. But sometimes they are the only ones that make sense to say.
I wished so much that I could make things better. That I could bring Joe back. That I could stop this pain from spreading.
All I could do was hold those I loved as they fell apart. And try to not let them see that I was falling apart myself.
“Fenton should be home soon,” Mrs. Hardy said once she had composed herself well enough to speak. “He left this morning to help Antonio get home.”
“How is Fango?” I asked.
Laura shrugged. “I imagine he’s not any better than most of us in this house are right now. He’s decided to turn himself into the police and confess everything he knows about Sognitrico. He wants Gina’s jail sentence to be as heavy as possible.”
“She will get justice,” I swore.
More company arrived, and Callie swooped in from the kitchen to answer the door.
“Once Fenton gets back, we can go to the library to talk about… what happened. And what to do next,” Laura said.
I nodded, and she joined Callie in greeting the newly arrived mourners.
When Laura moved, I had a clear sight of Iola and Chet sitting together. He held his sister silently as she sobbed with a grief that multiplied my own. The two seemed oblivious to everyone but each other. I was glad for that. I had no words, especially for Iola. What do you say to someone who just lost everything they were living for?
Callie continued to bustle back and forth, taking care of everyone else, being the strong one because no one else could be. Laura busied herself with giving and receiving comfort from the neighbors who had just walked in. Meanwhile, I stood back and tried to feel numb to it all.
But there was one ache that I couldn’t get past, no matter how hard I tried. More than anything in the world, I wanted Nancy.
Fenton walked in as I realized that I was hurting more for not knowing where Nancy was than for knowing that Joe was gone. When the Hardys spotted each other, both of them burst into tears and everyone was quiet while they shared their sorrow.
But the minds of the Hardys are strong, even in the midst of storms cutting as deep as these. Logic moved them forward. After Laura told Fenton her plan, he came over to me. Offered me a handshake in greeting. Never took the time to wipe the tears from his face.
“Are you up to talking about it?” he asked me. Did I feel like talking about Joe’s death? No. But I had to. I had to do whatever would bring me closer to finding Gina. To finding Nancy.
“Yeah,” I said, and minutes later found myself upstairs in the Hardy family library with Fenton and Laura.
Really, it was Laura’s library. And it lived up to its name. The walls were bookshelves, and books took up every spare inch that was left of the room. Skylights and a French-doored balcony gave the room all the natural light a reader could ever need, and the lamps placed evenly throughout the room could more than make up for the hours when natural light was lacking.
We gathered around a coffee table in the middle of the room. The couches and chairs in this room were curl-up-with-a-good-book approved. The overall feeling of retreat made this an ideal place to make plans and prepare for war.
As we settled, so did the silence. No one really wanted to talk about Joe’s death. No one wanted it to be real. But there was one thing on my mind that finally came out.
“We have to stop her.”
Laura closed her eyes and nodded, but Fenton’s reaction was much stronger.
“Listen to me, Will, we are not starting down a path of revenge.” He gave me a look that dared me to even consider revenge an option.
“I don’t want revenge. I just want… I want… Nancy,” I said.
I couldn’t hold their gaze after that statement. I stared at the black coffee table and angrily brushed tears from my eyes as they formed.
“We’ll find her. We’ll find Frank. We’ll bring down Gina. But we’re going to do it the right way.”
I nodded at Fenton’s words, but didn’t say anything for fear that I would only be able to choke it out.
“Are you sure you’re ready to talk about this, Will?” Laura asked. “We can wait.”
I straightened, met her eyes, and nodded. “I’m sure.” I took a deep breath.
Then, even from upstairs and behind the library door, we heard Callie shriek.
“FRANK!”
The three of us stared at each other dumbfounded for a moment. Fenton was the first to move. I followed after him, and Laura came behind me.
Sure enough, by the time I reached the front door, Frank was there, pulled into the arms of his father.
But glad as I was to see Frank, registering who was standing behind him caused me to forget for a moment that anyone else in the universe even existed.
“NANCY!”
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Shorter chapter today, and the end of part one! Part two has my favorite chapter in it, so I'm excited to keep sharing this with you guys.
Eloise - Hahahahahaha I've never noticed before how often Togo got mentioned. XDXDXD I feel like I know what to do if I want to get on your nerves, now, though... muahaha. XD I don't have a dream cast for Gina. I honestly don't have a dream cast for anyone because I know so few celebrities and I guess I just don't think that way. XD I feel like I took a lot of risks with Cardinal, haha. Your whole Ned Ned theory was AMAZING, though! I already had decided that Ned was going to have an alias on the day that I dreamt up Bluebirds - the whole reason I came up with the name Will Cardinal was to give Ned an alias. XD So it literally never occurred to me to consider making Ned and Will separate people... I feel like I need to write fanfiction for Cardinal now. XDXDXD Thanks for the "writerly reminder"! Haha. Are you able to point to what it was that made that chapter less believable? Obviously, I think it was believable, haha. Suspension of disbelief is actually something I think about a lot as I write, so this matters to me. XD But even if you aren't able to articulate what it was, I do appreciate you pointing that out! Thanks so much for your faithful and always honest comments! ♥
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 24, 2019 17:31:28 GMT -5
*Finishes reading her fourth book of the Reading Rush and then reads this post*Ned Still don't know how I feel about this...I arrived at Fenton and Laura’s home before Fenton even did. By now he knew what had happened that morning, though. News of Joe’s death :,( was spreading fast, and soon Bayport would be reeling in the impact. For now, those who loved and knew Joe best were beginning to gather at the Hardy home, uninvited but welcome, all seeking to make sense of this pain together.
Callie opened the door when I arrived. Her plain face and relaxed clothing were evidence that she’d left her house quickly. Her appearance didn’t affect her poise.
“Hey, Will. Come in.” She gave me a quick hug as I stepped inside. “If you’re hungry at all, there are sandwiches in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Callie. Where’s Laura?”
“The living room… but Will… I wondered… have you heard anything about Frank?”
I shook my head. “Sorry.”
“Will?”
I turned to Laura standing in the living room doorway, face red and wet, arms hugging her sides. Joe used to joke that he got his good looks from his mom, from whom he’d gotten his blonde hair and blue eyes. I’d never seen her look more unlike Joe, though. Vulnerable and lost.
I pulled my Bayport mom into a hug. “I’m so sorry.” Sometimes those words feel pathetic. But sometimes they are the only ones that make sense to say.
I wished so much that I could make things better. That I could bring Joe back. That I could stop this pain from spreading.
All I could do was hold those I loved as they fell apart. And try to not let them see that I was falling apart myself.
“Fenton should be home soon,” Mrs. Hardy said once she had composed herself well enough to speak. “He left this morning to help Antonio get home.”
“How is Fango?” I asked.
Laura shrugged. “I imagine he’s not any better than most of us in this house are right now. He’s decided to turn himself into the police and confess everything he knows about Sognitrico. He wants Gina’s jail sentence to be as heavy as possible.”
“She will get justice,” I swore.
More company arrived, and Callie swooped in from the kitchen to answer the door.
“Once Fenton gets back, we can go to the library to talk about… what happened. And what to do next,” Laura said.
I nodded, and she joined Callie in greeting the newly arrived mourners.
When Laura moved, I had a clear sight of Iola and Chet sitting together. He held his sister silently as she sobbed with a grief that multiplied my own. The two seemed oblivious to everyone but each other. I was glad for that. I had no words, especially for Iola. What do you say to someone who just lost everything they were living for?
Callie continued to bustle back and forth, taking care of everyone else, being the strong one because no one else could be. Laura busied herself with giving and receiving comfort from the neighbors who had just walked in. Meanwhile, I stood back and tried to feel numb to it all.
But there was one ache that I couldn’t get past, no matter how hard I tried. More than anything in the world, I wanted Nancy.
Fenton walked in as I realized that I was hurting more for not knowing where Nancy was than for knowing that Joe was gone. When the Hardys spotted each other, both of them burst into tears and everyone was quiet while they shared their sorrow.
But the minds of the Hardys are strong, even in the midst of storms cutting as deep as these. Logic moved them forward. After Laura told Fenton her plan, he came over to me. Offered me a handshake in greeting. Never took the time to wipe the tears from his face.
“Are you up to talking about it?” he asked me. Did I feel like talking about Joe’s death? No. But I had to. I had to do whatever would bring me closer to finding Gina. To finding Nancy.
“Yeah,” I said, and minutes later found myself upstairs in the Hardy family library with Fenton and Laura.
Really, it was Laura’s library. And it lived up to its name. The walls were bookshelves, and books took up every spare inch that was left of the room. Skylights and a French-doored balcony gave the room all the natural light a reader could ever need, and the lamps placed evenly throughout the room could more than make up for the hours when natural light was lacking. I need this room to be my own. I love books so much and I currently only have a small Ikea bookshelf to store them on. XD
We gathered around a coffee table in the middle of the room. The couches and chairs in this room were curl-up-with-a-good-book approved. The overall feeling of retreat made this an ideal place to make plans and prepare for war.
As we settled, so did the silence. No one really wanted to talk about Joe’s death. No one wanted it to be real. But there was one thing on my mind that finally came out.
“We have to stop her.”
Laura closed her eyes and nodded, but Fenton’s reaction was much stronger.
“Listen to me, Will, we are not starting down a path of revenge.” He gave me a look that dared me to even consider revenge an option.
“I don’t want revenge. I just want… I want… Nancy,” I said.
I couldn’t hold their gaze after that statement. I stared at the black coffee table and angrily brushed tears from my eyes as they formed.
“We’ll find her. We’ll find Frank. We’ll bring down Gina. But we’re going to do it the right way.”
I nodded at Fenton’s words, but didn’t say anything for fear that I would only be able to choke it out.
“Are you sure you’re ready to talk about this, Will?” Laura asked. “We can wait.”
I straightened, met her eyes, and nodded. “I’m sure.” I took a deep breath.
Then, even from upstairs and behind the library door, we heard Callie shriek.
“FRANK!”
The three of us stared at each other dumbfounded for a moment. Fenton was the first to move. I followed after him, and Laura came behind me.
Sure enough, by the time I reached the front door, Frank was there, pulled into the arms of his father.
But glad as I was to see Frank, registering who was standing behind him caused me to forget for a moment that anyone else in the universe even existed.
“NANCY!” !!!!!!! (okay I also really don't know how I feel about this...)
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Shorter chapter today, and the end of part one! Part two has my favorite chapter in it, so I'm excited to keep sharing this with you guys.
Eloise - Hahahahahaha I've never noticed before how often Togo got mentioned. XDXDXD I feel like I know what to do if I want to get on your nerves, now, though... muahaha. Don't you dare! XD XD I don't have a dream cast for Gina. I honestly don't have a dream cast for anyone because I know so few celebrities and I guess I just don't think that way. XD I feel like I took a lot of risks with Cardinal, haha. Your whole Ned Ned theory was AMAZING, though! I already had decided that Ned was going to have an alias on the day that I dreamt up Bluebirds - the whole reason I came up with the name Will Cardinal was to give Ned an alias. XD So it literally never occurred to me to consider making Ned and Will separate people... I feel like I need to write fanfiction for Cardinal now. Please do! (I would but I already have 3 MLs of my own to get around to so... XD) XDXDXD Thanks for the "writerly reminder"! Haha. Are you able to point to what it was that made that chapter less believable? Gina just felt too cartoonish and "muhahah I have you now my pretty. I like killing people. bye now. btw I'm super attractive." If that makes sense. XD Obviously, I think it was believable, haha. Suspension of disbelief is actually something I think about a lot as I write, so this matters to me. XD But even if you aren't able to articulate what it was, I do appreciate you pointing that out! Thanks so much for your faithful and always honest comments! ♥
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 26, 2019 12:04:50 GMT -5
P a r t 2: The ShowdownFrankI gotta hand it to her: Isabella gave me the best stay I had ever had as the victim of a kidnapping. I woke up feeling only slightly sore. It was hard to listen to the sounds of Scout scuffling about in what must have been a closet between my current location and the kitchen and do nothing, but I had made a promise, and I intended to keep it.
So for a little bit I just lay awake and stared at, well, nothing, as blind people do. My mind had time to go through the events of the last day. The morning proposal, the ring…
The ring.
I realized with a jolt that it wasn’t in my pocket anymore.
I bolted upright.
“Isabella!” I shouted. “Hey!” Silence. “Isabella I’m going to leave this couch if you don’t…”
I heard footsteps bounding for the living room. “Calm down, Frank! What is it? Are you hungry?”
I paused. Famished, actually. “Yes.”
She started for the kitchen. “Just wait and…”
“No, look, I had a ring on me yesterday. It’s gone. Where is it?”
“Oh.” I didn’t like the sound of that. “Ring? Oh! Yes, it’s on the table, next to your phone. I left it there to be sure it would be safe. I think.”
That made no sense whatsoever. Most of this whole situation didn’t. “Can I just have it back?”
“Well, I… I guess.” I heard her go to retrieve it. “I don’t know why I would have thought it safer on the table. A lot has been happening. I have been more forgetful than normal. I am under a lot of stress.”
By now she was standing in front of me. I held out my hand for the black velvet box and she surrendered it.
“Kidnapping people can have that effect,” I quipped.
“I’ll make breakfast.”
Eventually Isabella brought me eggs and an orange. Her cooking was mediocre, but missing out on dinner the night before made me not care so much.
She left soon after that, saying she wanted to try to find Nancy, but not before making me re-swear to not leave the couch.
I was doing somersaults on the couch when she came back a few hours later. Don’t judge. You try sitting on a couch for hours with nothing but your thoughts to entertain you.
She came into the room with what I could smell was a burger and fries. I could hear that she was still alone. Which meant Nancy wasn’t with her.
“I am sorry for your boredom,” she said as I finished the flip she’d walked in on.
“Boredom? What, you don’t normally do roll-outs on your couch?” I asked, settling back onto the most comfortable and most self-imposed prison I’d ever known.
“No,” she responded, handing me lunch.
“I hope you’re taking care of Scout as well as you’re taking care of me,” I said as I broke into the bag.
“Oh, the poor thing!” Isabella said. She immediately left the room, and as I devoured my own meal, I could hear the sounds of her pulling out and opening a bag of dog food.
But not a minute later, I heard her walking back into the living room. Slowly.
“Frank,” she said, her voice shaking, “she has killed someone.”
I stopped chewing and swallowed. “What?”
“My enemy, she has… She has killed someone and framed me for it. And she’s going to keep killing.”
She gingerly sat on the spot next to me on the couch. “I have failed. This is what I was trying to prevent.”
I caught up to what she was being faced with. “So now you have to give me your confession.”
She was silent. “Oh, sorry, I was nodding my head,” she finally said.
“But it’s more than that,” she continued. “I have to go and stop her, Frank. I have to go and face her. I cannot wait for the police to find her and risk another life being lost.”
“Don’t go alone,” I told her.
“I have to,” she said quietly. “And yet, I won’t be alone, will I?”
“Isabella, please, go to the police first. Give them a chance. God will be with you to the end, but that’s no guarantee that the end won’t come the moment you face this woman.”
“Yet I cannot die unless He allows it, no?”
“Isabella…”
“My name is not Isabella,” she responded. “My name is Regina Sciarra. Those closest to me know me as Gina. In the past I have been known as Scaramuccia. For the crimes of the last two days, I have been framed by Dottore.”
My mind went blank as I realized I was sitting next to the woman who orchestrated the events leading up to my blindness. Yet my heart was captured when I realized that this woman had somehow in the last week come to know Christ.
“The rest of my confession is on the table, as I said,” she continued. “Next to it is your cell phone. The closet Scout is in is unlocked; you will not have trouble finding her.
“I have two requests, Frank. If I die, I will be unable to apologize to all those whom I have wronged. Yet I do not wish for them to know the bitterness of hate or the slavery of revenge. Please let them know that I am sorry, and plead with them to release every ill feeling toward me.”
“Okay,” I said. “And the second?”
“The second is this: I am sorry, Frank, for all the loss and pain I have caused you. It can never be atoned for, and I can never repay the things I have taken from you. Yet, undeserving, I will ask. Will you please forgive me?”
I knew what I was supposed to say. But I also knew what I felt like saying. How could someone ever forgive… her? But I knew the answer to this. Forgiveness that is impossible with man is possible with God.
So with the eyes of my soul looking to Christ, I said to her with sincerity, “Yes, Gina. I forgive you completely.”
She hugged me, and without another word, she left.
And after all she had told me… I assumed that I wasn’t under the couch oath any longer.
The first thing I did was let Scout out. She jumped on me, licked my face, sniffed me down, and in seconds, had run into the kitchen and found that sack of dog food.
That’s when I noticed something wasn’t quite right. Scout was in the kitchen, crunching kibble.
But something else was in the closet, also making noise. I froze for a moment, just to listen. It sounded human.
“Is someone in here?” I asked in the general direction of the closet. A thrashing and faint but high-pitched mumbling was the response. A woman?
Clicking, I found that this closet was maybe ten feet deep and kind of square. I couldn’t be sure what was on the floor in front of me, so I fumbled my way toward the sound. My hands met with what felt like someone’s shoe. When it moved in response, I knew it was someone’s shoe.
She had been left on a thick pile of blankets in the far left corner of the closet. Metal shelving to both sides restricted movement, and provided the support that this woman had been tied to.
Did Gina do this? Or did Gina even know this woman was here?
“I’m going to try to find your face,” I told the woman, as she was clearly gagged. “I’m blind, so bear with me.”
I felt for her face and was able to find it without creating too awkward of a scene. I untied the cloth around her mouth and heard her spit something out.
“Frank! It’s Nancy!” she spoke, her voice confirming her words.
“Nancy?” I gasped. “How did you end up in here?”
“I went to answer my door, and a woman who looked exactly like Gina was there,” she began as I continued removing duct tape and untying ropes to free Nancy. “But it wasn’t her. At least, I don’t think it was. She said her name was Isabella.”
“Actually, that was probably her.”
“But Frank… she was… different. Her voice was different. I don’t know how to explain it. She seemed… younger.”
That wasn’t an impression Gina had left on me, but I still wasn’t convinced it was a different person. “What happened?” I pressed, finishing on another knot.
“She told me that Scaramuccia was coming to kill me and hurt Ned…”
“Ned?”
“Yeah, she said Ned. She said that I had to run right away. But of course I didn’t. I couldn’t trust her. Then she said she was sorry, and knocked me out. I woke up in here.”
I had finished untying Nancy, and for a moment just sat there, confused. Then I remembered.
“Nancy, Gina said she left her full confession on the kitchen table.”
“Well then,” Nancy replied, struggling to her feet, which I imagined was painful after being tied up for the last 24 hours, “let’s get some answers.”
We thought it would be a good idea to try to contact our families before we listened to the recording, until we found that my phone was dead. There was a phone in the house, but the landline didn’t have any service.
Instead I gave Nancy what was left of my fries (she hadn’t eaten since she had been kidnapped) and we sat down around the kitchen table.
“Hey, is that your Bible?”
“What?” I asked.
“Under your phone. A leather-bound Bible. It has your name embossed on it.”
Nancy slid it my way. Sure felt like my old Bible. I had left it at my parent’s house when I moved out; I couldn’t use it anymore anyway.
“Why would Gina steal your Bible?”
I slumped back and threw my hands in the air. “I don’t know why she would do anything anymore.”
“Maybe this will help,” Nancy offered. I heard a click as she pressed play on the tape player left on the table.
Gina’s now-familiar voice began. “In chess, the most powerful piece…”
“Wait,” I said. I heard another click as Nancy paused the recording. “Nancy, let’s go find our families first,” I said.
She groaned. “Aw, Frank, you’re going to kill me!”
“But someone else might be trying to kill Gina.”
“That would certainly be a turn of events.”
“If we can listen to this with Will and my parents, maybe even Joe, it might help convince them to help her.”
“Unless we find out that she really did do everything she’s suspected of.”
“But Nancy, if she really has changed, and if we can help her…”
“Then we need to do everything in our power to save her life.” A chair slid backward. “Frank, let’s go home. I really miss my husband. And I really want to know what’s on that tape.”
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Again, SO FUN to write from Frank's perspective. You writers out there need to try writing from the perspective of a blind character some time. Haha.
Eloise - Laura's library is my dream room. I want one when I have my own house. (For that matter I want one now. XD) Yeah, that makes sense! Thanks for the feedback. Haha... she is over the top, but there's a reason that she's over the top... Maybe she'll make more sense later on, but for now, sorry that ruined the suspension of disbelief for you, haha. ANYWHOOOOOO... thanks for reading! Even when it means sacrificing time for the Reading Rush, haha!
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 26, 2019 16:00:19 GMT -5
Part 2 WHOOOOO!!!!!P a r t 2: The ShowdownFrankI gotta hand it to her: Isabella gave me the best stay I had ever had as the victim of a kidnapping. I woke up feeling only slightly sore. It was hard to listen to the sounds of Scout scuffling about in what must have been a closet between my current location and the kitchen and do nothing, but I had made a promise, and I intended to keep it.
So for a little bit I just lay awake and stared at, well, nothing, as blind people do. My mind had time to go through the events of the last day. The morning proposal, the ring…
The ring.
I realized with a jolt that it wasn’t in my pocket anymore.
I bolted upright.
“Isabella!” I shouted. “Hey!” Silence. “Isabella I’m going to leave this couch if you don’t…”
I heard footsteps bounding for the living room. “Calm down, Frank! What is it? Are you hungry?”
I paused. Famished, actually. “Yes.”
She started for the kitchen. “Just wait and…”
“No, look, I had a ring on me yesterday. It’s gone. Where is it?”
“Oh.” I didn’t like the sound of that. “Ring? Oh! Yes, it’s on the table, next to your phone. I left it there to be sure it would be safe. I think.”
That made no sense whatsoever. Most of this whole situation didn’t. “Can I just have it back?”
“Well, I… I guess.” I heard her go to retrieve it. “I don’t know why I would have thought it safer on the table. A lot has been happening. I have been more forgetful than normal. I am under a lot of stress.”
By now she was standing in front of me. I held out my hand for the black velvet box and she surrendered it.
“Kidnapping people can have that effect,” I quipped.
“I’ll make breakfast.”
Eventually Isabella brought me eggs and an orange. Her cooking was mediocre, but missing out on dinner the night before made me not care so much.
She left soon after that, saying she wanted to try to find Nancy, but not before making me re-swear to not leave the couch.
I was doing somersaults on the couch when she came back a few hours later. Don’t judge. You try sitting on a couch for hours with nothing but your thoughts to entertain you.
She came into the room with what I could smell was a burger and fries. I could hear that she was still alone. Which meant Nancy wasn’t with her.
“I am sorry for your boredom,” she said as I finished the flip she’d walked in on.
“Boredom? What, you don’t normally do roll-outs on your couch?” I asked, settling back onto the most comfortable and most self-imposed prison I’d ever known.
“No,” she responded, handing me lunch.
“I hope you’re taking care of Scout as well as you’re taking care of me,” I said as I broke into the bag.
“Oh, the poor thing!” Isabella said. She immediately left the room, and as I devoured my own meal, I could hear the sounds of her pulling out and opening a bag of dog food.
But not a minute later, I heard her walking back into the living room. Slowly.
“Frank,” she said, her voice shaking, “she has killed someone.” NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
I stopped chewing and swallowed. “What?”
“My enemy, she has… She has killed someone and framed me for it. And she’s going to keep killing.”
She gingerly sat on the spot next to me on the couch. “I have failed. This is what I was trying to prevent.”
I caught up to what she was being faced with. “So now you have to give me your confession.”
She was silent. “Oh, sorry, I was nodding my head,” she finally said.
“But it’s more than that,” she continued. “I have to go and stop her, Frank. I have to go and face her. I cannot wait for the police to find her and risk another life being lost.”
“Don’t go alone,” I told her.
“I have to,” she said quietly. “And yet, I won’t be alone, will I?”
“Isabella, please, go to the police first. Give them a chance. God will be with you to the end, but that’s no guarantee that the end won’t come the moment you face this woman.”
“Yet I cannot die unless He allows it, no?”
“Isabella…”
“My name is not Isabella,” she responded. “My name is Regina Sciarra. Those closest to me know me as Gina. In the past I have been known as Scaramuccia. For the crimes of the last two days, I have been framed by Dottore.” I am very confused XD
My mind went blank as I realized I was sitting next to the woman who orchestrated the events leading up to my blindness. Yet my heart was captured when I realized that this woman had somehow in the last week come to know Christ.
“The rest of my confession is on the table, as I said,” she continued. “Next to it is your cell phone. The closet Scout is in is unlocked; you will not have trouble finding her.
“I have two requests, Frank. If I die, I will be unable to apologize to all those whom I have wronged. Yet I do not wish for them to know the bitterness of hate or the slavery of revenge. Please let them know that I am sorry, and plead with them to release every ill feeling toward me.”
“Okay,” I said. “And the second?”
“The second is this: I am sorry, Frank, for all the loss and pain I have caused you. It can never be atoned for, and I can never repay the things I have taken from you. Yet, undeserving, I will ask. Will you please forgive me?”
I knew what I was supposed to say. But I also knew what I felt like saying. How could someone ever forgive… her? But I knew the answer to this. Forgiveness that is impossible with man is possible with God.
So with the eyes of my soul looking to Christ, I said to her with sincerity, “Yes, Gina. I forgive you completely.”
She hugged me, and without another word, she left.
And after all she had told me… I assumed that I wasn’t under the couch oath any longer.
The first thing I did was let Scout out. She jumped on me, licked my face, sniffed me down, and in seconds, had run into the kitchen and found that sack of dog food.
That’s when I noticed something wasn’t quite right. Scout was in the kitchen, crunching kibble.
But something else was in the closet, also making noise. I froze for a moment, just to listen. It sounded human.
“Is someone in here?” I asked in the general direction of the closet. A thrashing and faint but high-pitched mumbling was the response. A woman?
Clicking, I found that this closet was maybe ten feet deep and kind of square. I couldn’t be sure what was on the floor in front of me, so I fumbled my way toward the sound. My hands met with what felt like someone’s shoe. When it moved in response, I knew it was someone’s shoe.
She had been left on a thick pile of blankets in the far left corner of the closet. Metal shelving to both sides restricted movement, and provided the support that this woman had been tied to.
Did Gina do this? Or did Gina even know this woman was here?
“I’m going to try to find your face,” I told the woman, as she was clearly gagged. “I’m blind, so bear with me.”
I felt for her face and was able to find it without creating too awkward of a scene. I untied the cloth around her mouth and heard her spit something out.
“Frank! It’s Nancy!” she spoke, her voice confirming her words. NANCY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Nancy?” I gasped. “How did you end up in here?”
“I went to answer my door, and a woman who looked exactly like Gina was there,” she began as I continued removing duct tape and untying ropes to free Nancy. “But it wasn’t her. At least, I don’t think it was. She said her name was Isabella.”
“Actually, that was probably her.”
“But Frank… she was… different. Her voice was different. I don’t know how to explain it. She seemed… younger.”
That wasn’t an impression Gina had left on me, but I still wasn’t convinced it was a different person. “What happened?” I pressed, finishing on another knot.
“She told me that Scaramuccia was coming to kill me and hurt Ned…”
“Ned?”
“Yeah, she said Ned. She said that I had to run right away. But of course I didn’t. I couldn’t trust her. Then she said she was sorry, and knocked me out. That's totally how I knock people out... after I say I'm sorry, then WHAM! I woke up in here.”
I had finished untying Nancy, and for a moment just sat there, confused. Then I remembered.
“Nancy, Gina said she left her full confession on the kitchen table.”
“Well then,” Nancy replied, struggling to her feet, which I imagined was painful after being tied up for the last 24 hours, “let’s get some answers.”
We thought it would be a good idea to try to contact our families before we listened to the recording, until we found that my phone was dead. There was a phone in the house, but the landline didn’t have any service.
Instead I gave Nancy what was left of my fries Since Frank doesn't talk in parentheses anywhere else maybe consider formatting this differently --> (she hadn’t eaten since she had been kidnapped) and we sat down around the kitchen table.
“Hey, is that your Bible?”
“What?” I asked.
“Under your phone. A leather-bound Bible. It has your name embossed on it.”
Nancy slid it my way. Sure felt like my old Bible. I had left it at my parent’s house when I moved out; I couldn’t use it anymore anyway.
“Why would Gina steal your Bible?”
I slumped back and threw my hands in the air. “I don’t know why she would do anything anymore.”
“Maybe this will help,” Nancy offered. I heard a click as she pressed play on the tape player left on the table.
Gina’s now-familiar voice began. “In chess, the most powerful piece…”
“Wait,” I said. I heard another click as Nancy paused the recording. “Nancy, let’s go find our families first,” I said.
She groaned. “Aw, Frank, you’re going to kill me!” If this is foreshadowing I am going to kill Olivia...
“But someone else might be trying to kill Gina.”
“That would certainly be a turn of events.”
“If we can listen to this with Will and my parents, maybe even Joe, it might help convince them to help her.”
“Unless we find out that she really did do everything she’s suspected of.”
“But Nancy, if she really has changed, and if we can help her…”
“Then we need to do everything in our power to save her life.” A chair slid backward. “Frank, let’s go home. I really miss my husband. And I really want to know what’s on that tape.”
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Again, SO FUN to write from Frank's perspective. You writers out there need to try writing from the perspective of a blind character some time. Haha. I refuse to blind any of my characters though unfortunately XD
Eloise - Laura's library is my dream room. I want one when I have my own house. (For that matter I want one now. XD) Yeah, that makes sense! Thanks for the feedback. Haha... she is over the top, but there's a reason that she's over the top... Maybe she'll make more sense later on, but for now, sorry that ruined the suspension of disbelief for you, haha. ANYWHOOOOOO... thanks for reading! Even when it means sacrificing time for the Reading Rush, haha!
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 29, 2019 13:40:47 GMT -5
Ned
I tore past the father-son reunion, nearly tripping over Scout, and pulled my wife into my arms. It took a moment for me to realize I was sobbing. I was never going to let her go.
I made sure she knew how much I had missed her. Never before in my life had I kissed Nancy this passionately. Then I just held her, cherishing the fact that she existed.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you, too, my champion,” she responded with a hint of a laugh in her voice.
She didn’t know.
I pulled away slightly. “Nancy, a lot has happened since you disappeared.”
The smile in her eyes faded as she read the seriousness in my tone. “Oh yeah?”
“Can we go inside and talk?”
“Only if there is food involved.”
A few minutes later, Nancy and I shared a loveseat in the library as she gratefully devoured one of Callie’s sandwiches. She and Frank had a lot of questions about what was going on. They could tell that something was very wrong. I suspected it didn't take long for them to piece it together. But Fenton had asked that they tell us their story before we tell them ours.
Frank waited his turn to tell his story, holding hands with Callie (who had forgotten her duties as self-appointed hostess the moment Frank had shown up) as he listened with us to Nancy’s tale. Scout rested beside his chair, eyeing Nancy as she spoke, but never letting herself get distracted from Frank.
Nancy started with the moment she heard the doorbell ring. Opening the door. Seeing Gina.
“My first thought when I saw her was that I should call the police. But I didn’t, because after the initial shock of seeing Gina there faded, I realized that she was crying. She begged me to run. There was something different about her voice. It sounded younger and more frail. She said that her name was Isabella.
“I tried to get her to explain what was going on. Obviously, I couldn’t just run, especially if someone who looks exactly like Gina is the one telling me to do so. She handed me a bunch of money and told me to take a bus to the furthest place possible. She kept insisting that I had to go or I was going to die. I think finally she gave up, because the last thing I remember is her telling me that she was so sorry, and then knocking me out.”
We were all pretty quiet for a moment, trying to make sense of Nancy’s story. It made sense of Hannah’s story, and why Gina would have demanded to know where Nancy is. But then, who was this Isabella? Gina’s long-lost good twin? That was different.
I couldn’t get much further with my deducing there because I got distracted at how beautiful my wife is. And intelligent. And brave. And compassionate. And…
“There are two possibilities.” I reluctantly pulled my gaze away from Nancy to look at Fenton as he spoke. “Either Isabella was telling the truth, or she wasn’t. We’ll need more pieces of the puzzle before we can figure that out.”
“I do know for sure that it was Gina who kidnapped me,” Frank responded. That caught my attention.
“She called herself Isabella at first. It was the weirdest kidnapping experience I’ve ever had. And you guys know I’ve had some doozies.
“I know you all might have a hard time believing this, but… I think she’s changed.”
Have a hard time believing this? No. It wasn’t going to be hard for me to believe. Because I wasn’t going to believe it at all.
“Is this a good time to play it?” Nancy asked, pulling out a portable tape player. Talk about a blast from the past.
Frank nodded as Nancy set the dinosaur on the coffee table. “Gina left a confession in case anything happened to her or… well. Let’s listen to it first, then I’ll explain,” Frank said.
Eagerly, Nancy pressed play.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE hehe.
Eloise - Hehe, yes, I expect confusion for a little bit, anyway. But things will aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall make sense soon... hehehehe... Glad to know that's your technique. I'll duck if you ever randomly tell me you're sorry. XD Thanks for the parenthesis note! Not something I had thought of, so I'll do a quick run-through soon and see if I can make that uniform. I see how it could change a character's voice. All I'll say is that it did occur to me that I could make that a foreshadow of killing off Frank later if I wanted... but you'll have to keep reading to find out what I decided to do with that muahahahahaha...
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 30, 2019 11:51:39 GMT -5
I am here (I was busy all day yesterday XD)NedI tore past the father-son reunion, nearly tripping over Scout, and pulled my wife into my arms. It took a moment for me to realize I was sobbing. I was never going to let her go.
I made sure she knew how much I had missed her. Never before in my life had I kissed Nancy this passionately. Then I just held her, cherishing the fact that she existed.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you, too, my champion,” I'm sorry but I just can't see Nancy ever saying the phrase "My champion". X) she responded with a hint of a laugh in her voice.
She didn’t know.
I pulled away slightly. “Nancy, a lot has happened since you disappeared.”
The smile in her eyes faded as she read the seriousness in my tone. “Oh yeah?”
“Can we go inside and talk?”
“Only if there is food involved.” Also, doesn't sound like Nancy to me.
A few minutes later, Nancy and I shared a loveseat in the library as she gratefully devoured one of Callie’s sandwiches. She and Frank had a lot of questions about what was going on. They could tell that something was very wrong. I suspected it didn't take long for them to piece it together. But Fenton had asked that they tell us their story before we tell them ours.
Frank waited his turn to tell his story, holding hands with Callie (who had forgotten her duties as self-appointed hostess the moment Frank had shown up) as he listened with us to Nancy’s tale. Scout rested beside his chair, eyeing Nancy as she spoke, but never letting herself get distracted from Frank.
Nancy started with the moment she heard the doorbell ring. Opening the door. Seeing Gina.
“My first thought when I saw her was that I should call the police. But I didn’t, because after the initial shock of seeing Gina there faded, I realized that she was crying. She begged me to run. There was something different about her voice. It sounded younger and more frail. She said that her name was Isabella.
“I tried to get her to explain what was going on. Obviously, I couldn’t just run, especially if someone who looks exactly like Gina is the one telling me to do so. She handed me a bunch of money and told me to take a bus to the furthest place possible. She kept insisting that I had to go or I was going to die. I think finally she gave up, because the last thing I remember is her telling me that she was so sorry, and then knocking me out.”
We were all pretty quiet for a moment, trying to make sense of Nancy’s story. It made sense of Hannah’s story, and why Gina would have demanded to know where Nancy is. But then, who was this Isabella? Gina’s long-lost good twin? That was different.
I couldn’t get much further with my deducing there because I got distracted at how beautiful my wife is. And intelligent. And brave. And compassionate. And…
“There are two possibilities.” I reluctantly pulled my gaze away from Nancy to look at Fenton as he spoke. “Either Isabella was telling the truth, or she wasn’t. We’ll need more pieces of the puzzle before we can figure that out.”
“I do know for sure that it was Gina who kidnapped me,” Frank responded. That caught my attention.
“She called herself Isabella at first. It was the weirdest kidnapping experience I’ve ever had. And you guys know I’ve had some doozies.
“I know you all might have a hard time believing this, but… I think she’s changed.”
Have a hard time believing this? No. It wasn’t going to be hard for me to believe. Because I wasn’t going to believe it at all.
“Is this a good time to play it?” Nancy asked, pulling out a portable tape player. Talk about a blast from the past.
Frank nodded as Nancy set the dinosaur on the coffee table. “Gina left a confession in case anything happened to her or… well. Let’s listen to it first, then I’ll explain,” Frank said.
Eagerly, Nancy pressed play. Come on, Olivia! Why you have to cliffie me???!
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE hehe.
Eloise - Hehe, yes, I expect confusion for a little bit, anyway. But things will aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall make sense soon... hehehehe... Glad to know that's your technique. I'll duck if you ever randomly tell me you're sorry. XD Thanks for the parenthesis note! Not something I had thought of, so I'll do a quick run-through soon and see if I can make that uniform. I see how it could change a character's voice. All I'll say is that it did occur to me that I could make that a foreshadow of killing off Frank later if I wanted... but you'll have to keep reading to find out what I decided to do with that muahahahahaha...
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Jul 31, 2019 13:13:50 GMT -5
GinaIn chess, the most powerful piece is the Queen. She can move as far as she wants, in any direction she wants, to reach her target. She is feared, and as long as she watches her step and takes care to never underestimate her enemy, she cannot be stopped.
But for all this power, she is a slave. Every move she makes is for the sake of her King. Every Pawn, Rook, Bishop, and Knight is taken down in his name. Her purpose is his life. Her loyalty to him surpasses her loyalty to all others. She will destroy all who threaten her King. After all, if he dies, she dies, too.
A Queen is never free. But the more fortunate of us can at least choose our King. Once, for me, I chose to come under the authority of a crime boss known as Il Dottore. I liked that gig – centralized in my beloved Italy, surrounded by my beloved chess, working alongside my beloved Nico. If I had to be a slave, I could at least do it my way.
But my King made mistakes. Nico was caught and arrested. Il Dottore was discovered and joined him in jail. The good news was that I found a new King to serve before I went down, too.
But he too was outsmarted, and all of his pawns with him. Suddenly, I was alone.
But not lost. Because a new King rose up unbidden, one I knew I could trust to never leave me.
Revenge.
I still remember my first thoughts of sweet Revenge. The best part about this King is that he promised once he was satisfied, I didn’t have to tolerate another moment on this planet.
So I began to live every moment for Revenge, and two people in particular would be my targets. The first, Nancy Drew – she would die. But the second, Ned Nickerson – he would truly suffer. A few others would also pay for how they had crossed me, but that was just icing on the cake.
For five years, I plotted. I watched. I waited. I hated. My desire for Revenge grew. The darkness in my heart grew. Evil overcame me.
·,¸ ¸ , · ´ ¯ `·´ ¯ ` · , ¸ ¸,·
Revenge soon became such a controlling force in my life that when Dottore showed up again, my loyalty to Revenge was stronger than my loyalty to her. But she didn’t mind. Revenge had long ago become the King that she played for as well.
Together, we used every power of imagination to dream up the most horrific things that could be done to the objects of our loathing – every person who had ever crossed us. We devised unspeakable horrors, the evil of which was restrained only by the natural limitations of our own minds. All this without the wince of guilt, without a moment of feeling anything other than a consuming desire to destroy.
There was a delight, a deliciousness in this evil. But in moments of quiet, when my only company was my thoughts, I began to see something deeply repulsive about it. An ugly horror.
My first reaction was to laugh at this. To embrace it. This is who I am, the deepest expression of my inner self. I should not suppress it or be ashamed by it. I should enjoy it. I should embrace it. I should celebrate it.
Night after night, I would repeat this mantra. I would smile, close my eyes, and sleep, content in the thought that I was gloriously evil and liked it that way.
Until that one night when I was slammed with the thought, “No, I don’t.” My eyes snapped open. My smile became a scowl. This was an unwelcome thought.
Yet it sparked in me a wrestling match of eternal consequence.
What a stupid thought. This is me. And I love it.
Then why must I tell that to myself every night, as if I am the one I am trying to convince?
I love this life and I want nothing else.
But I feel so fake.
Nothing will make me more happy, more fulfilled than achieving this revenge.
Then why is the thought of it suddenly so repulsive?
A wrestling match. Back and forth. Would this Queen remain loyal?
Did this Queen have a choice?
Such was the next unbidden thought that I lost sleep over. Several nights spent thinking that I might not actually desire this evil lead me to a crisis of identity. Who was I? What did I want? But even if I could answer these questions, was change even really a choice?
Six days. That was how long we had until Dottore and I were going to set this revenge in motion. She would make it possible, but I would make it happen. I would die, too, but I was okay with that.
If I just stuck with this, just went through with it, then it would all be over. Even if I hated myself the whole while, in a matter of days, none of it would ever matter again.
Or would it?
This thought was the least welcome of them all. I had known evil. I had felt evil. I had delighted in evil. Some would say there’s a fiery place reserved just for me. I had never before given the time of day to such a suggestion. But as I thought that soon I would find out if they were right or not, I decided the least I could do was consider my options.
Despite the fact that I had no money and was living in deep hiding, I managed to get my hands on a Bible. It isn’t so hard when you habitually steal things simply for the fun of it. Both for the fun of it and because I knew the layout of the Hardy home so well, I decided to steal the Bible Frank could no longer read.
Four days until Revenge was satisfied. All was in place. All there was to do was wait. And now, read.
That reading lead to thinking. Deep thinking. Sometimes scoffing, sometimes rejecting, sometimes shrinking back.
And then, understanding. Believing. Changing.
And in a moment of wide-eyed surrender, something happened to me that I once never dreamed possible.
I became a Christian.
Exhilarating freedom was the first thing I experienced. It was another sleepless night; though the wrestling was over, the light in my soul was too joyous to allow for such a common thing as sleep.
But when I awoke groggily the next afternoon, the consequences of my decision laid heavily on me.
I had to break off with Dottore. She would kill me. Though not calling this off would kill me anyway.
At least I could go down in service for my new King.
Two days left. Closer to a day and a half at this point. I prayed to my new Master and contacted my old. She was livid.
She promised to destroy me in ways more horrific than we had dreamed up for Nancy and Ned. The pronouncement made me queasy. Yet I had grown accustomed to living in hiding. And I had read a thing or two in the last few days about an eternal Shield and Refuge I was trusting in.
She let me go that night. I had 24 hours to get back on board. But in my heart that bridge had been burned. She still worked for Revenge, but I was loyal to a new King now.
It was clear to me what my next step needed to be. I had to warn Nancy. And I had to do it in the next 24 hours.
But I would have to be careful. I wasn’t ready for jail. Not yet. Maybe someday. Maybe never.
For now, I would make things right. Then, I would hide. But for the first time, I would not be alone. For the first time, I would be loved by my King. For the first time, I would be free.
·,¸ ¸ , · ´ ¯ `·´ ¯ ` · , ¸ ¸,·
I was very grateful for the fact that I had so closely been monitoring Nancy’s life for the last five years, though I was currently using the information I had acquired to achieve a very different goal than I had originally intended. I made sure to go to Nancy’s home when I knew her husband would be at work, and parked far enough away that my vehicle would not be associated with the Cardinal residence.
I walked over to the home. When I knocked, the door swung open. But it was not because someone opened it. Rather, it was because someone had left it slightly ajar. A sick feeling crept into my stomach.
“Hello?” I called out a bit softly, afraid of the wrong person finding me. There was no immediate answer, so I pushed the door open and repeated my question.
There was only silence in response, but I hardly noticed the silence in light of the scene before me. First, just beyond the reach of the front door, was a tragically still patch of bloody, black and gray fur. I knew right away that it was Togo, and I knew right away that he was dead.
Though grieved by this first sight, my care was directed toward the second figure on the floor, about 5 meters from the door. The elderly Hannah. I rushed over to check her pulse, and felt the rhythm of life in her veins even as I saw her chest rise and fall with her breathing. “Thank God,” I whispered, actually meaning it for the first time in my life.
But assured that Hannah was alive, a concern for Nancy ignited in me. “Nancy?” I called out. There was no response. I had well memorized the layout of this home, so it did not take me long to glance in every room for her presence. There was no sign of Dottore, and there was no Nancy.
And I knew Dottore had her. With every empty room, I could feel the blood draining from my face. Now I was lightheaded and scared, something I didn’t often feel. This following Jesus thing was coming at a cost, and I was unsure if I would be able to handle it.
But I did know what my next step would be: calling an ambulance and then getting out of the house as quickly as possible. I made my way to the Cardinal’s landline, but froze – and froze to the core – when I saw a message spray-painted onto one of the walls.
I had not seen it before as I had not yet had a visual of the living room wall it was sprawled across. The handwriting was beautiful; I had at first almost mistaken it for décor. Then some of the words registered in my mind, and I stopped to read the rest.
No one crosses Sognitrico. This Skirmish has only begun. You will pay.
The Skirmish. In Italian, Scaramuccia, my old codename. Dottore had come, and was framing me for what she had done. It felt as though this note had been written to me. Maybe it had.
But now was not the time to reason through whom that note was for. Mechanically, suppressing all emotion, I called 911. I told them that a woman was unconscious and where to find her. They would figure out the rest.
It was when I sat down in my van that it seemed like everything came crashing over me, emotionally. Yet I held it together – something I had become quite good at – and began the drive back to my hideout. Then I saw a car drive by that I had memorized. It was Will Cardinal, and a glance at the clock confirmed that he was driving home at his normal time. He probably didn’t have a clue what awaited him. I wondered if I even had a clue of what awaited me.
I had to do something. Dottore could not be allowed to steal, kill, and destroy as she pleased, especially when I had spent the last few years helping make it possible.
I could go to the police, I reasoned, and explain everything I know. But then Dottore would kill Nancy for sure, and I would go to jail. But if it was the only way to stop her…
But maybe it wasn’t. An idea came to me.
I was going to kidnap Frank.
·,¸ ¸ , · ´ ¯ `·´ ¯ ` · , ¸ ¸,·
Either I had never known a place as peaceful and beautiful as Bayport’s Main Park, or I had never known how to truly enjoy life before. I suspected the latter. Birds sang, children played, leaves yielded to the humid breeze in a joyful dance. Sunshine warmly graced it all.
As I found my heart thanking my Father for the work of His hands, I saw my target coming. Frank was the most predictable of the people I had been stalking for so long, necessitated in part by his blindness. Since moving into his apartment two weeks ago, he had taken a shortcut through Main Park to make the walk home every day.
He and his German shepherd seemed so happy, so full of life, as they casually walked my way along the winding, tree-lined sidewalk. They fit in well with the scene around them. It was time for me to act; but I hesitated. I felt bad about doing this.
That thought brought me from hesitation to a complete stop. Once, I would have not felt the slightest protesting from my conscience to commit actions much worse than what I currently had planned. It was like something in me had been resurrected from the dead and was finally able to feel. My heart was changed. I was a new creation.
HALLELUJAH!
Almost too late, I snapped out of my reverie. This following Jesus thing really was going to end up killing me one way or the other. Frank was almost at my bench. I sprang into action.
“Excuse me, sir?” I called, stepping in Frank’s path.
“Me?” he asked, halting.
“Oh, yes.” I paused for effect. “Oh, um, I’m sorry. You are not… I mean…”
Frank gave me a sympathetic laugh. “It’s okay. Yeah, I’m blind. But maybe I can still help you?”
“Oh, um, okay. It is just… my van has a flat tire. It looks like some bored teenager slashed it open. My cell phone is dead and I have no car charger with me and my husband will be wondering where I am and… oh. I am rambling. I’m sorry. I’m just so flustered and I don’t know what to do…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Frank told me with a disarming smile. “Do you have a spare?”
“I think so.”
“If you’ll take me to your car, I can change it for you.”
This was exactly the reaction I was counting on. “Really?” I began. “Oh, wow, yes, that would be wonderful.” So far so good. Please, Lord, keep things moving smoothly.
Then Frank startled me when he held out his right hand and said, “By the way, I’m Frank. What’s your name?”
This question I had not expected and so had not prepared myself for. Yet thinking fast was something I was good at, so I returned his handshake and gave him the first name I thought of.
“Nice to meet you, Frank. I am Isabella.”
Introductions over, Frank offered me his elbow. “Lead on, Miss Isabella,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”
And lead on I did, to a small abandoned parking lot out of view of the road. My blue Dodge Grand Caravan awaited us there, parked so that the tire I had slashed was out of view of anyone in the park.
“It’s the back tire on the driver’s side,” I told Frank as we rounded my vehicle. He let out a series of clicks with his tongue, and although I already knew the answer, I asked, “What is that?”
“Are you familiar with echolocation?”
“That is what bats use, yes?”
“Right! And I’ve learned how to use it, too. So I can kind of see shapes. Your van is here” – he pointed to my van – “and ends about there” – he pointed to the end of my van. Then he pointed out the nearby buildings and a few nearby trees. “In fact, that one” – he pointed to a medium-sized maple – “is a maple.”
Now this truly did impress me. “You can tell that it is a maple?”
“Nope,” he replied, “I just have a good memory. But enough of my antics; do you have a jack?”
“A… jack. I think so.” I pretended to fumble around in my car a bit and pulled out what I knew was indeed a jack. “Is this it?”
He held out his hand, dropping his dog’s leash to investigate the object I had given him.
“Would you like me to hold your dog’s leash for you?” I offered.
“No, don’t worry about it. Scout won’t leave my side.”
This was a fact I had suspected and came prepared for.
“This is definitely a jack!” Frank continued. “Great job!” I’m sure his praise would have been encouraging to someone who actually didn’t know how to change a spare tire. So it continued, me playing dumb as he performed a job I could have finished much faster on my own. As I pulled various tools from the car at Frank’s request, I also pulled out everything I would need to take this former ATAC agent out.
Yes, I knew about ATAC. My research was thorough.
It was as Frank was tightening the bolts onto the spare tire that I began carefully making his escape impossible. “So, you said Scout was your dog’s name?”
“Yep! My guide dog. Also my best friend.”
I walked over to her, wielding a tranquilizer I had pulled out with the jack. “She is very beautiful.”
“Thanks. Glad someone can appreciate her good looks!”
As he said that, I tranquilized her. She let out a small yelp at the unexpected .
“Oh, goodness! I stepped on her tail! I’m so sorry!”
“That’s okay,” Frank said, pausing to pet her head as she lay down, already feeling woozy. “She’ll be fine, won’t you, Scout?” She let out an odd sound that I knew was her protesting the effects of the tranquilizer, but Frank just smiled at what he must have thought of as a dog groaning about getting its tail stepped on.
Frank turned back to the spare, almost halfway finished with the bolts. “Your accent, is it Italian?” he asked me as he worked.
“Yes,” I responded, “I was born there.” This was perhaps the first truth I had told him all day.
“What brought you to America?” he asked, tightening the second-to-last bolt.
I laughed. “That is a very long story,” I began – another true statement. Followed by a false one: “But the short version is, I fell in love.”
Frank reached for the final bolt, left exactly where he had carefully placed it earlier. “How long have you been in Bayport?”
“Three months,” I made up.
“Do you like it?”
“I suppose so. There is much to like about it. But my heart pines after my beloved Italy.”
And he secured the final bolt in place.
“That should do it!” he proclaimed, handing me back the lug wrench.
“Oh, thank you!” I said, placing it with the slashed tire and other tools I had made sure to put away as he worked. He lowered the jack and handed that to me as well. “I don’t know what I would have done without you! Can I pay you for your help? Or give you a ride to wherever you were going? Or…?”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Frank protested. “It’s seriously my pleasure. Scout and I will just enjoy the walk home together, won’t we, Scout?”
And for the first time, he noticed how still his dog had become. I was a little nervous; that tranquilizer had originally been intended to kill. I had modified it, and hoped it was at an appropriate dosage to cause no permanent damage. As it was, Scout lay very still.
“Um, I think your dog is asleep,” I said.
“She’s… what?” Frank bent down to check her out.
All according to plan. This caused Frank to kneel out of the line of sight of any random onlookers.
As he checked on Scout’s vitals, he froze, and I knew that he had figured out what was going on and what was coming next. Not moving, he said, “Your name’s not Isabella, is…”
Which brings me to the second reason his kneeling to check on Scout was part of my plan. When knocking someone out, the greatest danger is usually not from the initial blow to the head. It is from the person falling to the ground and hitting their head on the concrete. With Frank kneeling next to Scout, he had a much safer distance to fall, besides Scout’s body to soften the landing.
So, before he could finish his question, I kicked him in the head, and he was out.
I realize there are several crimes that I have committed, with consequences I must face. But I do hope that you can find it in yourselves to at least not hold this last kidnapping against me.
I also hope that someday, you can forgive me for all the other things I have done as well. Of all the things I have done to harm others, giving them a reason to hold on to hate may be the worst. I plead with you, forgive me. Not because I deserve it. I never could make up for the things that I have done. And yet I have been forgiven by God. I pray that He would mercifully grant you His own forgiveness, and spare you from the slavery of unforgiveness. I am all too familiar with the cruelty of Revenge.
My name is Regina Sciarra. I speak these things of my own will. Everything you have heard is the truth.
May my King be honored by my death. With this wish I end this recording.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
I think this is going to be the longest chapter, haha. There's another that miiiiiiiiiiight beat it... my favorite chapter... which will be on Monday... but this one might be the longest. XD
Fun fact: I originally wrote this for fun and never intended for it to be in Cardinal. But then as Cardinal took shape, it actually started to make sense to include this. So. Here it is! Haha.
Eloise - Haha, to be honest, I wasn't sure about the whole champion thing. But I am pretty sure about the food thing. The poor woman was just starved for 24 hours so... I mean I would certainly be very food-oriented at that point. XDXDXD Haha, cliffies are what I do. :sly: XD
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Jul 31, 2019 13:50:47 GMT -5
I've been constantly refreshing this page for the past 4-6 hours waiting for you to post this. XDGinaIn chess, the most powerful piece is the Queen. She can move as far as she wants, in any direction she wants, to reach her target. She is feared, and as long as she watches her step and takes care to never underestimate her enemy, she cannot be stopped.
But for all this power, she is a slave. Every move she makes is for the sake of her King. Every Pawn, Rook, Bishop, and Knight is taken down in his name. Her purpose is his life. Her loyalty to him surpasses her loyalty to all others. She will destroy all who threaten her King. After all, if he dies, she dies, too. Why does this all sound like the opening to a really intense kingdom fantasy YA novel. X) Anyway I love it. Good job. A+.
A Queen is never free. But the more fortunate of us can at least choose our King. Once, for me, I chose to come under the authority of a crime boss known as Il Dottore. I liked that gig – centralized in my beloved Italy, surrounded by my beloved chess, working alongside my beloved Nico. If I had to be a slave, I could at least do it my way.
But my King made mistakes. Nico was caught and arrested. Il Dottore was discovered and joined him in jail. The good news was that I found a new King to serve before I went down, too.
But he too was outsmarted, and all of his pawns with him. Suddenly, I was alone.
But not lost. Because a new King rose up unbidden, one I knew I could trust to never leave me.
Revenge.
I still remember my first thoughts of sweet Revenge. The best part about this King is that he promised once he was satisfied, I didn’t have to tolerate another moment on this planet.
So I began to live every moment for Revenge, and two people in particular would be my targets. The first, Nancy Drew – she would die. But the second, Ned Nickerson – he would truly suffer. A few others would also pay for how they had crossed me, but that was just icing on the cake.
For five years, I plotted. I watched. I waited. I hated. My desire for Revenge grew. The darkness in my heart grew. Evil overcame me.
·,¸ ¸ , · ´ ¯ `·´ ¯ ` · , ¸ ¸,·
Revenge soon became such a controlling force in my life that when Dottore showed up again, my loyalty to Revenge was stronger than my loyalty to her. But she didn’t mind. Revenge had long ago become the King that she played for as well.
Together, we used every power of imagination to dream up the most horrific things that could be done to the objects of our loathing – every person who had ever crossed us. We devised unspeakable horrors, the evil of which was restrained only by the natural limitations of our own minds. All this without the wince of guilt, without a moment of feeling anything other than a consuming desire to destroy.
There was a delight, a deliciousness in this evil. But in moments of quiet, when my only company was my thoughts, I began to see something deeply repulsive about it. An ugly horror.
My first reaction was to laugh at this. To embrace it. This is who I am, the deepest expression of my inner self. I should not suppress it or be ashamed by it. I should enjoy it. I should embrace it. I should celebrate it.
Night after night, I would repeat this mantra. I would smile, close my eyes, and sleep, content in the thought that I was gloriously evil and liked it that way.
Until that one night when I was slammed with the thought, “No, I don’t.” My eyes snapped open. My smile became a scowl. This was an unwelcome thought.
Yet it sparked in me a wrestling match of eternal consequence.
What a stupid thought. This is me. And I love it.
Then why must I tell that to myself every night, as if I am the one I am trying to convince?
I love this life and I want nothing else.
But I feel so fake.
Nothing will make me more happy, more fulfilled than achieving this revenge.
Then why is the thought of it suddenly so repulsive?
A wrestling match. Back and forth. Would this Queen remain loyal?
Did this Queen have a choice?
Such was the next unbidden thought that I lost sleep over. Several nights spent thinking that I might not actually desire this evil lead me to a crisis of identity. Who was I? What did I want? But even if I could answer these questions, was change even really a choice?
Six days. That was how long we had until Dottore and I were going to set this revenge in motion. She would make it possible, but I would make it happen. I would die, too, but I was okay with that.
If I just stuck with this, just went through with it, then it would all be over. Even if I hated myself the whole while, in a matter of days, none of it would ever matter again.
Or would it?
This thought was the least welcome of them all. I had known evil. I had felt evil. I had delighted in evil. Some would say there’s a fiery place reserved just for me. I had never before given the time of day to such a suggestion. But as I thought that soon I would find out if they were right or not, I decided the least I could do was consider my options.
Despite the fact that I had no money and was living in deep hiding, I managed to get my hands on a Bible. It isn’t so hard when you habitually steal things simply for the fun of it. Both for the fun of it and because I knew the layout of the Hardy home so well, I decided to steal the Bible Frank could no longer read.
Four days until Revenge was satisfied. All was in place. All there was to do was wait. And now, read.
That reading lead to thinking. Deep thinking. Sometimes scoffing, sometimes rejecting, sometimes shrinking back.
And then, understanding. Believing. Changing.
And in a moment of wide-eyed surrender, something happened to me that I once never dreamed possible.
I became a Christian.
Exhilarating freedom was the first thing I experienced. It was another sleepless night; though the wrestling was over, the light in my soul was too joyous to allow for such a common thing as sleep.
But when I awoke groggily the next afternoon, the consequences of my decision laid heavily on me.
I had to break off with Dottore. She would kill me. Though not calling this off would kill me anyway.
At least I could go down in service for my new King.
Two days left. Closer to a day and a half at this point. I prayed to my new Master and contacted my old. She was livid.
She promised to destroy me in ways more horrific than we had dreamed up for Nancy and Ned. The pronouncement made me queasy. Yet I had grown accustomed to living in hiding. And I had read a thing or two in the last few days about an eternal Shield and Refuge I was trusting in.
She let me go that night. I had 24 hours to get back on board. But in my heart that bridge had been burned. She still worked for Revenge, but I was loyal to a new King now.
It was clear to me what my next step needed to be. I had to warn Nancy. And I had to do it in the next 24 hours.
But I would have to be careful. I wasn’t ready for jail. Not yet. Maybe someday. Maybe never.
For now, I would make things right. Then, I would hide. But for the first time, I would not be alone. For the first time, I would be loved by my King. For the first time, I would be free.
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I was very grateful for the fact that I had so closely been monitoring Nancy’s life for the last five years, though I was currently using the information I had acquired to achieve a very different goal than I had originally intended. I made sure to go to Nancy’s home when I knew her husband would be at work, and parked far enough away that my vehicle would not be associated with the Cardinal residence.
I walked over to the home. When I knocked, the door swung open. But it was not because someone opened it. Rather, it was because someone had left it slightly ajar. A sick feeling crept into my stomach.
“Hello?” I called out a bit softly, afraid of the wrong person finding me. There was no immediate answer, so I pushed the door open and repeated my question.
There was only silence in response, but I hardly noticed the silence in light of the scene before me. First, just beyond the reach of the front door, was a tragically still patch of bloody, black and gray fur. I knew right away that it was Togo, and I knew right away that he was dead.
Though grieved by this first sight, my care was directed toward the second figure on the floor, about 5 meters from the door. The elderly Hannah. I rushed over to check her pulse, and felt the rhythm of life in her veins even as I saw her chest rise and fall with her breathing. “Thank God,” I whispered, actually meaning it for the first time in my life.
But assured that Hannah was alive, a concern for Nancy ignited in me. “Nancy?” I called out. There was no response. I had well memorized the layout of this home, so it did not take me long to glance in every room for her presence. There was no sign of Dottore, and there was no Nancy.
And I knew Dottore had her. With every empty room, I could feel the blood draining from my face. Now I was lightheaded and scared, something I didn’t often feel. This following Jesus thing was coming at a cost, and I was unsure if I would be able to handle it.
But I did know what my next step would be: calling an ambulance and then getting out of the house as quickly as possible. I made my way to the Cardinal’s landline, but froze – and froze to the core – when I saw a message spray-painted onto one of the walls.
I had not seen it before as I had not yet had a visual of the living room wall it was sprawled across. The handwriting was beautiful; I had at first almost mistaken it for décor. Then some of the words registered in my mind, and I stopped to read the rest.
No one crosses Sognitrico. This Skirmish has only begun. You will pay.
The Skirmish. In Italian, Scaramuccia, my old codename. Dottore had come, and was framing me for what she had done. It felt as though this note had been written to me. Maybe it had.
But now was not the time to reason through whom that note was for. Mechanically, suppressing all emotion, I called 911. I told them that a woman was unconscious and where to find her. They would figure out the rest.
It was when I sat down in my van that it seemed like everything came crashing over me, emotionally. Yet I held it together – something I had become quite good at – and began the drive back to my hideout. Then I saw a car drive by that I had memorized. It was Will Cardinal, and a glance at the clock confirmed that he was driving home at his normal time. He probably didn’t have a clue what awaited him. I wondered if I even had a clue of what awaited me.
I had to do something. Dottore could not be allowed to steal, kill, and destroy as she pleased, especially when I had spent the last few years helping make it possible.
I could go to the police, I reasoned, and explain everything I know. But then Dottore would kill Nancy for sure, and I would go to jail. But if it was the only way to stop her…
But maybe it wasn’t. An idea came to me.
I was going to kidnap Frank.
·,¸ ¸ , · ´ ¯ `·´ ¯ ` · , ¸ ¸,·
Either I had never known a place as peaceful and beautiful as Bayport’s Main Park, or I had never known how to truly enjoy life before. I suspected the latter. Birds sang, children played, leaves yielded to the humid breeze in a joyful dance. Sunshine warmly graced it all.
Okay okay okay I'm dumb. XD I only just now remembered/realized that this is the cassette confession by Gina XDXDXD
As I found my heart thanking my Father for the work of His hands, I saw my target coming. Frank was the most predictable of the people I had been stalking for so long, necessitated in part by his blindness. Since moving into his apartment two weeks ago, he had taken a shortcut through Main Park to make the walk home every day.
He and his German shepherd seemed so happy, so full of life, as they casually walked my way along the winding, tree-lined sidewalk. They fit in well with the scene around them. It was time for me to act; but I hesitated. I felt bad about doing this.
That thought brought me from hesitation to a complete stop. Once, I would have not felt the slightest protesting from my conscience to commit actions much worse than what I currently had planned. It was like something in me had been resurrected from the dead and was finally able to feel. My heart was changed. I was a new creation.
HALLELUJAH!
Almost too late, I snapped out of my reverie. This following Jesus thing really was going to end up killing me one way or the other. Frank was almost at my bench. I sprang into action.
“Excuse me, sir?” I called, stepping in Frank’s path.
“Me?” he asked, halting.
“Oh, yes.” I paused for effect. “Oh, um, I’m sorry. You are not… I mean…”
Frank gave me a sympathetic laugh. “It’s okay. Yeah, I’m blind. But maybe I can still help you?”
“Oh, um, okay. It is just… my van has a flat tire. It looks like some bored teenager slashed it open. My cell phone is dead and I have no car charger with me and my husband will be wondering where I am and… oh. I am rambling. I’m sorry. I’m just so flustered and I don’t know what to do…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Frank told me with a disarming smile. “Do you have a spare?”
“I think so.”
“If you’ll take me to your car, I can change it for you.”
This was exactly the reaction I was counting on. “Really?” I began. “Oh, wow, yes, that would be wonderful.” So far so good. Please, Lord, keep things moving smoothly.
Then Frank startled me when he held out his right hand and said, “By the way, I’m Frank. What’s your name?”
This question I had not expected and so had not prepared myself for. Yet thinking fast was something I was good at, so I returned his handshake and gave him the first name I thought of.
“Nice to meet you, Frank. I am Isabella.”
Introductions over, Frank offered me his elbow. “Lead on, Miss Isabella,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”
And lead on I did, to a small abandoned parking lot out of view of the road. My blue Dodge Grand Caravan awaited us there, parked so that the tire I had slashed was out of view of anyone in the park.
“It’s the back tire on the driver’s side,” I told Frank as we rounded my vehicle. He let out a series of clicks with his tongue, and although I already knew the answer, I asked, “What is that?”
“Are you familiar with echolocation?”
“That is what bats use, yes?”
“Right! And I’ve learned how to use it, too. So I can kind of see shapes. Your van is here” – he pointed to my van – “and ends about there” – he pointed to the end of my van. Then he pointed out the nearby buildings and a few nearby trees. “In fact, that one” – he pointed to a medium-sized maple – “is a maple.”
Now this truly did impress me. “You can tell that it is a maple?”
“Nope,” he replied, “I just have a good memory. But enough of my antics; do you have a jack?”
“A… jack. I think so.” I pretended to fumble around in my car a bit and pulled out what I knew was indeed a jack. “Is this it?”
He held out his hand, dropping his dog’s leash to investigate the object I had given him.
“Would you like me to hold your dog’s leash for you?” I offered.
“No, don’t worry about it. Scout won’t leave my side.”
This was a fact I had suspected and came prepared for.
“This is definitely a jack!” Frank continued. “Great job!” I’m sure his praise would have been encouraging to someone who actually didn’t know how to change a spare tire. So it continued, me playing dumb as he performed a job I could have finished much faster on my own. As I pulled various tools from the car at Frank’s request, I also pulled out everything I would need to take this former ATAC agent out.
Yes, I knew about ATAC. My research was thorough.
It was as Frank was tightening the bolts onto the spare tire that I began carefully making his escape impossible. “So, you said Scout was your dog’s name?”
“Yep! My guide dog. Also my best friend.”
I walked over to her, wielding a tranquilizer I had pulled out with the jack. “She is very beautiful.”
“Thanks. Glad someone can appreciate her good looks!”
As he said that, I tranquilized her. She let out a small yelp at the unexpected .
“Oh, goodness! I stepped on her tail! I’m so sorry!”
“That’s okay,” Frank said, pausing to pet her head as she lay down, already feeling woozy. “She’ll be fine, won’t you, Scout?” She let out an odd sound that I knew was her protesting the effects of the tranquilizer, but Frank just smiled at what he must have thought of as a dog groaning about getting its tail stepped on.
Frank turned back to the spare, almost halfway finished with the bolts. “Your accent, is it Italian?” he asked me as he worked.
“Yes,” I responded, “I was born there.” This was perhaps the first truth I had told him all day.
“What brought you to America?” he asked, tightening the second-to-last bolt.
I laughed. “That is a very long story,” I began – another true statement. Followed by a false one: “But the short version is, I fell in love.”
Frank reached for the final bolt, left exactly where he had carefully placed it earlier. “How long have you been in Bayport?”
“Three months,” I made up.
“Do you like it?”
“I suppose so. There is much to like about it. But my heart pines after my beloved Italy.”
And he secured the final bolt in place.
“That should do it!” he proclaimed, handing me back the lug wrench.
“Oh, thank you!” I said, placing it with the slashed tire and other tools I had made sure to put away as he worked. He lowered the jack and handed that to me as well. “I don’t know what I would have done without you! Can I pay you for your help? Or give you a ride to wherever you were going? Or…?”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Frank protested. “It’s seriously my pleasure. Scout and I will just enjoy the walk home together, won’t we, Scout?”
And for the first time, he noticed how still his dog had become. I was a little nervous; that tranquilizer had originally been intended to kill. I had modified it, and hoped it was at an appropriate dosage to cause no permanent damage. As it was, Scout lay very still.
“Um, I think your dog is asleep,” I said.
“She’s… what?” Frank bent down to check her out.
All according to plan. This caused Frank to kneel out of the line of sight of any random onlookers.
As he checked on Scout’s vitals, he froze, and I knew that he had figured out what was going on and what was coming next. Not moving, he said, “Your name’s not Isabella, is…”
Which brings me to the second reason his kneeling to check on Scout was part of my plan. When knocking someone out, the greatest danger is usually not from the initial blow to the head. It is from the person falling to the ground and hitting their head on the concrete. With Frank kneeling next to Scout, he had a much safer distance to fall, besides Scout’s body to soften the landing.
So, before he could finish his question, I kicked him in the head, and he was out.
I realize there are several crimes that I have committed, with consequences I must face. But I do hope that you can find it in yourselves to at least not hold this last kidnapping against me.
I also hope that someday, you can forgive me for all the other things I have done as well. Of all the things I have done to harm others, giving them a reason to hold on to hate may be the worst. I plead with you, forgive me. Not because I deserve it. I never could make up for the things that I have done. And yet I have been forgiven by God. I pray that He would mercifully grant you His own forgiveness, and spare you from the slavery of unforgiveness. I am all too familiar with the cruelty of Revenge.
My name is Regina Sciarra. I speak these things of my own will. Everything you have heard is the truth.
May my King be honored by my death. With this wish I end this recording.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
I think this is going to be the longest chapter, haha. There's another that miiiiiiiiiiight beat it... my favorite chapter... which will be on Monday... but this one might be the longest. XD
Fun fact: I originally wrote this for fun and never intended for it to be in Cardinal. Cool! But then as Cardinal took shape, it actually started to make sense to include this. So. Here it is! Haha.
Eloise - Haha, to be honest, I wasn't sure about the whole champion thing. But I am pretty sure about the food thing. The poor woman was just starved for 24 hours so... I mean I would certainly be very food-oriented at that point. XDXDXD Haha, cliffies are what I do. :sly: XD
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Aug 2, 2019 20:10:27 GMT -5
Ned
I could feel myself trembling. With anger. How low was Gina going to stoop? Kidnapping Nancy and pretending someone else did as an excuse to kill more people? Creating this elaborate story to get her revenge and then get away from the law? Just when I thought I couldn’t hate her any more.
“I don’t believe a word of it,” I spoke as evenly as I could manage. “This is Gina’s sorry attempt to hurt others without any consequences.”
“I don’t know, Will,” Frank spoke up. “This actually… makes sense.”
Then Frank told the rest of his story. He filled in the gaps on the day Nancy went missing; this mysterious Isabella comes, then Il Dottore, then Gina. Then Gina kidnaps Frank to try to get Dottore to surrender.
“But something went wrong,” Frank continued. “Gina came back today and found out that Dottore had killed someone. She decided then that she had to stop Dottore, no matter what it cost. She’s out there now, and her life could be in danger.”
“So maybe I really did meet a sibling of Gina’s!” Nancy said, her bright mind working to put all the pieces together. But she still had some pieces missing. “She could have caught wind that Gina was in trouble…”
“No,” I growled, eliciting surprised expressions from Nancy and Frank. Neither of them knew yet what all had happened while they were gone. “She’s lying. This is just a charade. First of all, I know for a fact that Regina Sciarra has no family left alive.”
“So maybe she’s not a sister,” Frank offered.
“But then why would she look so much like Gina?” Nancy wondered aloud.
I broke into their interruption. “Second, I know for a fact that Dottore is in prison. My own testimony got her locked up for life. There’s no way for her to be threatening Gina like this.
“And third…” I paused, and looked over to Fenton. He had one arm wrapped around Laura, who looked like she was only barely keeping herself together.
He gave me a slight nod. “Go ahead.”
“I saw her,” I began. “Today. She came over to our house, Nancy. She knocked me out and I woke up tied up to the kitchen table.” Nancy’s eyes widened and she grabbed by hand. “She told me she was going to kill one person for every day that you were missing, and that when you finally showed up, she was going to kill you.
“But then Joe showed up. We had been kind of working together to find Gina, and you. I saw him in the kitchen doorway, behind Gina. She had no clue.
“Joe jumped. I didn’t realize he was going to do that. I would have warned him. I would have told him to run.”
I had to stop. I was starting to choke up. I couldn’t bring myself to say it. There was something in the speaking of a thing that made it sink in. That made it real.
The silence was tense. Nancy and Frank, I knew, were dreading my next words, yet found every second of waiting for me to speak them unbearable.
“I saw her. She wasn’t Il Dottore. She was Gina. It was Regina Sciarra who killed Joe.”
Then Nancy’s phone rang. I had kept it on me, kept the volume up, so that I wouldn’t miss anything that came through. This wasn’t a great time for a phone call, but given the circumstances surrounding the last two days, I pulled it out and handed it to Nancy.
Despite tears, I could see the caller ID. Unknown Caller.
Nancy stared at her phone for a moment. She took a deep breath. Then she put her phone on speaker, and with her voice shaking, answered.
“Hello?”
“Nancy! It’s me. It’s Isabella. You have to help! Gina is in trouble!”
I was ready to scream at her but restrained myself. I could hear what Nancy was talking about earlier. It was Gina’s voice, but it sounded younger and more timid. But it was just that: Gina pretending to be younger and more timid.
“Isabella, you have a lot of explaining to do,” Nancy said.
“I… I know Nancy, but please! You have to come now! Scaramuccia is going to kill Gina!”
Nancy frowned. “Scaramuccia is Gina.”
“No! Nancy, no! You don’t understand! Please, just come! Please! We’re at Red Oak Ridge. Gina is cornered and Scaramuccia has a gun! I’m so scared! Please come help!”
Nancy met my eyes. I shook my head. “You realize this sounds like a trap,” she said.
And Gina – I knew it was Gina – started crying. “Nancy! Nancy, no! It’s not a trap! Please, please, you have to help! I don’t…”
She started letting out short gasps. Then nothing.
“I’m calling the police,” I said.
Laughter sounded from Nancy’s phone.
“It’s good to hear from you, too, Brighella,” said a voice that was very obviously Gina’s. “Now look, they say the more the merrier… and I guess I don’t mind some extra company. But you’d better be sure that you show up with that wife of yours. There’s someone here who would very much appreciate your presence.”
Nancy and I exchanged a glance. After a moment of nothing but the sound of shuffling, Gina spoke again.
“Say hello, Hannah.”
Silence.
“Say hello, Hannah,” Gina repeated in a low and dangerous tone.
“H-hello,” Hannah said.
“You really should learn to take better care of the women in your life, Brighella,” Gina said. “Someone is jumping off of Red Oak Ridge today. And I’m sure you don’t want it to be Hannah.”
The call ended. And so did my patience.
“I’m sick of this!” I shouted, leaping from the seat and beginning an aggressive pacing of the room. “I’m sick of Gina! I’m sick of her games! Call the police; I’m going to Red Oak. And I am going to bring this to an end.”
Then Frank, the last one anyone expected to be talking right now, spoke up.
“What about Isabella?”
“She doesn’t exist!” I shouted. “This is just Gina’s demented way of trying to throw us off! This is all a game to her and we’re just pawns unless we see through her charade!”
“Will.” I turned my head and met Nancy’s gentle blue eyes. They froze my feet and threatened to melt away my anger. “If there’s even a chance that what Gina or Isabella, or whoever this is, is telling us the truth, we have to do everything we can to help.”
I really only heard one word she had said. “You don’t need to call me that anymore.”
She cocked her head in response to my statement, much like a confused puppy. How could she be so cute in the middle of such pain?
“She knows, Nancy. Gina knows who I am,” I explained. “Hiding from her didn’t work. She found me. Before I could find her. And now… because of that…”
“Will – um, Ned,” Laura interjected, “none of this is your fault. Don’t you dare start that up.”
Then Nancy spoke again, and from her tone and her words, I could tell that she finally understood. “Ned, let’s go. Let’s call the police, but then let’s go find Gina and take her down.”
How I wanted to kiss her in that moment. But… “Nancy, I’m not letting you get anywhere near her. Not in a million years.”
“I don’t like the idea of either of you going alone,” Fenton voiced, “and if either of you don’t show up, she might walk Hannah off the cliff. So here’s what we’re going to do. I will call the police and explain the situation. Laura, Frank, and Callie will stay here and wait for news. Ned, Nancy, and I are going to go to Red Oak. We are going to rescue Hannah and stop Gina – whether she’s a crazed villain or a hurting victim. And we’re going to do it calmly and rationally.
“Am I understood?”
I nodded. With Fenton there, I knew someone would be able to keep Nancy safe, and I could be sure that Gina wasn’t going to get away this time. Especially since we would have police backup.
She had set up the trap, but she was going to be the one who was cornered.
Mr. Hardy left to call the police while the rest of us waited. With plans sorted out, and nothing to distract him, Frank was finally beginning to feel the full weight of Joe’s death. I don’t know that I’ll ever forget the sight of him as we left, surrounded by his mom, Callie, and even Scout, crying into his hands, more broken than I had ever seen him.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
I just remembered... it's Friday. I need to post a chapter. XD
I'm excited for Monday; my favorite chapter will be posted then!!! And you'll also get to find out Hannah's fate... muahahahahahahahahahahaha... Also a lot of answers are given as to what's going on...
Eloise - Oh man, I remember when I first wrote the "confession." It felt like I was in the zone. XD Thanks for the kind words! Sometimes I feel like I just need to write a book with Regina Sciarra as the main character. XD
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Aug 2, 2019 23:15:05 GMT -5
fiiiiiiinally I can reeeeeeaaaaaddd!!!!!!!!!NedI could feel myself trembling. With anger. How low was Gina going to stoop? Kidnapping Nancy and pretending someone else did as an excuse to kill more people? Creating this elaborate story to get her revenge and then get away from the law? Just when I thought I couldn’t hate her any more.
“I don’t believe a word of it,” I spoke as evenly as I could manage. “This is Gina’s sorry attempt to hurt others without any consequences.”
“I don’t know, Will,” Frank spoke up. “This actually… makes sense.”
Then Frank told the rest of his story. He filled in the gaps on the day Nancy went missing; this mysterious Isabella comes, then Il Dottore, then Gina. Then Gina kidnaps Frank to try to get Dottore to surrender.
“But something went wrong,” Frank continued. “Gina came back today and found out that Dottore had killed someone. She decided then that she had to stop Dottore, no matter what it cost. She’s out there now, and her life could be in danger.”
“So maybe I really did meet a sibling of Gina’s!” Nancy said, her bright mind working to put all the pieces together. But she still had some pieces missing. “She could have caught wind that Gina was in trouble…”
“No,” I growled, eliciting surprised expressions from Nancy and Frank. Neither of them knew yet what all had happened while they were gone. “She’s lying. This is just a charade. First of all, I know for a fact that Regina Sciarra has no family left alive.”
“So maybe she’s not a sister,” Frank offered.
“But then why would she look so much like Gina?” Nancy wondered aloud.
I broke into their interruption. “Second, I know for a fact that Dottore is in prison. My own testimony got her locked up for life. There’s no way for her to be threatening Gina like this.
“And third…” I paused, and looked over to Fenton. He had one arm wrapped around Laura, who looked like she was only barely keeping herself together.
He gave me a slight nod. “Go ahead.”
“I saw her,” I began. “Today. She came over to our house, Nancy. She knocked me out and I woke up tied up to the kitchen table.” Nancy’s eyes widened and she grabbed by hand. “She told me she was going to kill one person for every day that you were missing, and that when you finally showed up, she was going to kill you.
“But then Joe showed up. We had been kind of working together to find Gina, and you. I saw him in the kitchen doorway, behind Gina. She had no clue.
“Joe jumped. I didn’t realize he was going to do that. I would have warned him. I would have told him to run.”
I had to stop. I was starting to choke up. I couldn’t bring myself to say it. There was something in the speaking of a thing that made it sink in. That made it real.
The silence was tense. Nancy and Frank, I knew, were dreading my next words, yet found every second of waiting for me to speak them unbearable.
“I saw her. She wasn’t Il Dottore. She was Gina. It was Regina Sciarra who killed Joe.”
Then Nancy’s phone rang. I had kept it on me, kept the volume up, so that I wouldn’t miss anything that came through. This wasn’t a great time for a phone call, but given the circumstances surrounding the last two days, I pulled it out and handed it to Nancy.
Despite tears, I could see the caller ID. Unknown Caller.
Nancy stared at her phone for a moment. She took a deep breath. Then she put her phone on speaker, and with her voice shaking, answered.
“Hello?”
“Nancy! It’s me. It’s Isabella. You have to help! Gina is in trouble!”
I was ready to scream at her but restrained myself. I could hear what Nancy was talking about earlier. It was Gina’s voice, but it sounded younger and more timid. But it was just that: Gina pretending to be younger and more timid.
“Isabella, you have a lot of explaining to do,” Nancy said.
“I… I know Nancy, but please! You have to come now! Scaramuccia is going to kill Gina!”
Nancy frowned. “Scaramuccia is Gina.”
“No! Nancy, no! You don’t understand! Please, just come! Please! We’re at Red Oak Ridge. Gina is cornered and Scaramuccia has a gun! I’m so scared! Please come help!”
Nancy met my eyes. I shook my head. “You realize this sounds like a trap,” she said.
And Gina – I knew it was Gina – started crying. “Nancy! Nancy, no! It’s not a trap! Please, please, you have to help! I don’t…”
She started letting out short gasps. Then nothing.
“I’m calling the police,” I said.
Laughter sounded from Nancy’s phone.
“It’s good to hear from you, too, Brighella,” said a voice that was very obviously Gina’s. “Now look, they say the more the merrier… and I guess I don’t mind some extra company. But you’d better be sure that you show up with that wife of yours. There’s someone here who would very much appreciate your presence.”
Nancy and I exchanged a glance. After a moment of nothing but the sound of shuffling, Gina spoke again.
“Say hello, Hannah.”
Silence.
“Say hello, Hannah,” Gina repeated in a low and dangerous tone.
“H-hello,” Hannah said.
“You really should learn to take better care of the women in your life, Brighella,” Gina said. “Someone is jumping off of Red Oak Ridge today. And I’m sure you don’t want it to be Hannah.”
The call ended. And so did my patience.
“I’m sick of this!” I shouted, leaping from the seat and beginning an aggressive pacing of the room. “I’m sick of Gina! I’m sick of her games! Call the police; I’m going to Red Oak. And I am going to bring this to an end.”
Then Frank, the last one anyone expected to be talking right now, spoke up.
“What about Isabella?”
“She doesn’t exist!” I shouted. “This is just Gina’s demented way of trying to throw us off! This is all a game to her and we’re just pawns unless we see through her charade!”
“Will.” I turned my head and met Nancy’s gentle blue eyes. They froze my feet and threatened to melt away my anger. “If there’s even a chance that what Gina or Isabella, or whoever this is, is telling us the truth, we have to do everything we can to help.”
I really only heard one word she had said. “You don’t need to call me that anymore.”
She cocked her head in response to my statement, much like a confused puppy. How could she be so cute in the middle of such pain?
“She knows, Nancy. Gina knows who I am,” I explained. “Hiding from her didn’t work. She found me. Before I could find her. And now… because of that…”
“Will – um, Ned,” Laura interjected, “none of this is your fault. Don’t you dare start that up.”
Then Nancy spoke again, and from her tone and her words, I could tell that she finally understood. “Ned, let’s go. Let’s call the police, but then let’s go find Gina and take her down.”
How I wanted to kiss her in that moment. But… “Nancy, I’m not letting you get anywhere near her. Not in a million years.”
“I don’t like the idea of either of you going alone,” Fenton voiced, “and if either of you don’t show up, she might walk Hannah off the cliff. So here’s what we’re going to do. I will call the police and explain the situation. Laura, Frank, and Callie will stay here and wait for news. Ned, Nancy, and I are going to go to Red Oak. We are going to rescue Hannah and stop Gina – whether she’s a crazed villain or a hurting victim. And we’re going to do it calmly and rationally.
“Am I understood?”
I nodded. With Fenton there, I knew someone would be able to keep Nancy safe, and I could be sure that Gina wasn’t going to get away this time. Especially since we would have police backup.
She had set up the trap, but she was going to be the one who was cornered.
Mr. Hardy left to call the police while the rest of us waited. With plans sorted out, and nothing to distract him, Frank was finally beginning to feel the full weight of Joe’s death. I don’t know that I’ll ever forget the sight of him as we left, surrounded by his mom, Callie, and even Scout, crying into his hands, more broken than I had ever seen him.
Sorry I didn't comment on this chapter... the whole time I was reading it I was a mess of conflicted hyperventilating so... yeah XD
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
I just remembered... it's Friday. I need to post a chapter. XD XDXDXDXD I feel like I need to start reminding you XD
I'm excited for Monday; my favorite chapter will be posted then!!! And you'll also get to find out Hannah's fate... muahahahahahahahahahahaha... Also a lot of answers are given as to what's going on... Thank goodness because my brain is starting to hurt with how confused I am about what is really going on here. X)
Eloise - Oh man, I remember when I first wrote the "confession." It felt like I was in the zone. XD Thanks for the kind words! Sometimes I feel like I just need to write a book with Regina Sciarra as the main character. XD
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Aug 5, 2019 11:44:03 GMT -5
GinaI felt as if I were the heroine in a story of tragic ending. The sky was clouded over, and the normal sounds of nature were hushed in the aftermath of a still-fading storm. Yet a gentle breeze, whispering in the trees, gave me courage. Its whisper seemed to be that I was not alone, and that no matter what happened, this was not the end.
Thus remembering my King, I braced to face Dottore.
I had contacted her and demanded that she stop. After some negotiating, she had agreed to meet me. I knew… this was going to be my last stand. I was afraid. But a higher desire in me drove me toward my enemy. A longing to be free.
I couldn’t remember most of the journey through the woods. Suffering from my past had made memory a weak spot of mine. But where I stood, the forest cleared out. Twenty feet ahead of me, a majestic rock face dropped hundreds of feet. I did not wish to go near that ledge, for I did not wish for Dottore to be able to corner me so easily. I waited at the edge of the forest, and listened.
And she spoke. “That whole kidnapping Frank thing went well for you, didn’t it?” she mocked. Her laugh rang out. “Well, come on out, coward. Come and face me, like you said you would. Come and stop me.”
I did not move. Her voice was clear and distinct, but I was not hearing it from outside of me. I was hearing it from inside. This startled me, but I brushed it off as the effects of the fatigue and stress I was under. She spoke again - and again, I heard her inside my head. “Come on, Gina! I’ll show myself, I promise. But you’re going to move first. You demanded this meeting, but I’m going to be the one controlling it.”
I took my first brave steps forward. I did so cautiously, but not timidly. I was afraid of her, but I would not cower before her.
“Very good, Gina,” she called out, once I was far enough into the clearing for her satisfaction. I scanned the tree line, attempting to pin her location. Even if her voice was inside my head, I knew that she herself could not be. “Now then, I want you to jump off that cliff,” she continued.
I scoffed at her demand and stood my ground. “Dottore, I am not jumping off of that cliff.”
Once again she laughed. “Oh, Gina, Gina, Gina. You don’t want to right now, but by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging me to let you make that flying leap.”
I shook my head. “No, Dottore. I’ve told you before, I will no longer submit to your orders when they go against the desires of my God. My loyalty is to Him now.”
“That’s just peachy. But first of all, don’t call me Dottore anymore. That’s not my name.” And that laugh again – eerie and wild. “My name, my dearest Gina, is Scaramuccia.”
“Sophia, stop this. You’ve come unhinged. Let me…”
Then I saw a figure in the forest. The problem was, it couldn’t be Gina. The wide, terrified eyes of an old and frail woman stared back at me.
I stepped toward her. “Sophia, what is this? Your quarrel is with me! Stop…”
“No, you stop, Gina. In fact, take another step forward, and I’ll shoot the old woman.”
I froze.
“I wanted an audience for your final jump, but you know Ned is hard to convince without the proper motivation. Now get back into the clearing. The closer you are to the edge, the safer Hannah will be.”
I backed up into the clearing until there was ten feet between myself and the ridge. Knowing that Sophia was baiting Ned into coming gave me hope. She was overplaying her hand. I just had to stall.
“Sophia, you are insane.”
“Oh, Gina, don’t worry, I have this whole thing figured out. Now that everyone knows what a monster you are, now that you have no allies, now that everyone in the world is against you, you are finally going to snap. It was just too much for your conscience to take. You wanted the images to go away, the screams of your victims reverberating through your mind to stop. And you could think of only one way to do that.
“And so you jumped. And you will go down in history as one of the vilest human beings to ever breathe this planet’s air.”
If her words were meant to drive me to despair, they missed their mark. I continued to carefully follow the outline of every tree, every bush, to see if I could find Sophia’s hiding place, but the only sign of human life was Hannah, her wide eyes still staring at me as if I were the object of her terror. I wondered… was she hearing Sophia inside her head, too?
With a shiver I responded to Sophia, “Thank God that not a word of what you have said is true.”
Again, she laughed. “I have something I want to show you, my dear, dear Gina.”
And at her words a memory hit me strongly enough for me to feel it in my soul. In my mind’s eye, I saw before me three people – a woman and two girls. These three I had never seen before, and yet curiously I knew they were a mother and daughters. And I somehow knew they were Fango’s wife and daughters.
How did I know this?
I was quickly distracted from my confusion as the memory continued. I saw now not just who was involved, but what was happening. Those three were tied up. They were crying. They were afraid. They were begging for their lives.
All I could see was them, but I knew that someone was coming to get them.
And with a shock of horror I saw in this memory, with undeniable clarity, that the person coming after them was me. But I did not just see it. I did not just hear it. I felt it. I felt the hatred in my heart toward Fango, and subsequently toward these girls. I felt the desire to end them and cause Fango this great pain.
I felt the satisfaction of the finished job. I felt myself smile as I walked away.
When the real world began to come into focus again, I found myself on my hands and knees in the mud, panting.
I blinked. It was not stress or fatigue. Dottore was in my head.
“What was that?” I asked
“Are you impressed?” she said smoothly. I quickly swept the entire clearing with my eyes once again. “He was actually very helpful to me. He convinced everyone that Gina Sciarra kidnapped both Nancy Drew and Frank Hardy, and that the only thing she wanted was revenge. We had to make sure everyone knew how desperate you had become. Too bad for Fango, the Sciarra family never forgets. And never forgives.”
Still there was no sign of her.
Frustrated, I called out, “Show yourself, Leoprace! No more games!”
Her laugh hit me from all sides. It grew louder and louder until it morphed into a scream. “I. Am. Not. Sophia!” I clutched my head with my eyes opened wide in shock. She truly had broken into my mind and grabbed control of my senses from the inside. I felt violated and afraid, not to mention confused. How? How was she doing this?
“But all right,” she said softly. “I’ll show you who I am. I’ll reveal to you my deepest, darkest secret. It’s a secret I’ve kept since I was born.”
I sat up, still on my knees, and braced myself to be able to move quickly. I prepared my mind to be ready to process whatever awful thing she may reveal to me, and prepared my body to be ready to move with decisiveness should she then determine to come at me from out of the woods. And she spoke.
“Regina Sciarra, I… am you.”
At her words, I felt the muscles in my shoulders relax. It was almost a disappointment after I had so readied myself to hear this horrible truth. Were I not so afraid, I would have laughed.
“Really, Dottore…”
“NOT. Dottore!” she screamed at me, still using some psychological trick to sound as if she were inside my mind. “My name is Scaramuccia! I was born when you were twelve and too weak, too pathetic to do what you had to to survive! You wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for me!”
And another memory struck me. It started with details familiar to me. Orders to get rid of a young witness to my family’s criminal activities, in such a way as to serve as a warning to those who she had told what she had seen. Horror filling me at the thought. I remembered retreating into myself, and then nothing until a few days later. Now new details took shape in my memory. Part of me splitting off and taking over as I simultaneously hid deep within myself. This other part delighting in planning out the strike. Hunting the target down. Finishing her off. This other part falling asleep in my body, and me waking up in control again. Her taking the memory of the murder with her. A memory I wish she had just kept.
“Ever since then, I’ve taken care of you! I’ve been the strong one doing everything you couldn’t handle! I did your dirty work so that you wouldn’t have to!”
Another memory. Out on a heist. Things had gone wrong. My partners had underestimated security. A guard got in my way, and I had to kill him.
My parents were enraged. Not at me, but at those who were supposed to help me. They could think of only one solution, and demanded that I make an example of those who fail the Sciarra family. I shall spare you the details - details that I was no longer spared of as this Scaramuccia laid them all bare before me.
“You owe me everything, Gina, everything! And you had the gall to turn your back on me – for some imaginary god!
“But I want you to know something, Gina,” Scaramuccia continued, “no god would ever accept the likes of you. And I want you to know why.”
This time the memory was from only this morning. And it was in a place I knew well. I was waiting in the kitchen when Ned walked in. I knocked him out and tied him up, contemplating doing much more and much worse. However, I held back, deciding that I wanted nothing to distract him from the mental and emotional strain I was about to put on him.
He awoke, and I gave my speech, hardly looking his way. When I did get down to his level and met his eye, someone jumped on me.
I had received adequate training for attacks such as this one, and before I even knew who had attacked me, he was lying on the floor, lifeless. I cared little for who they were; those who stood in my way would die.
But how perfect that of all people, it was Joe. I wondered for a moment at how easy it had been, and realized he must have been blinded by rage. It often had worked to my advantage to get people to hate me.
Ned’s horror, my glee. Both shocked me at the memory of them. Still I held on to the idea that somehow, someway, Dottore had gotten into my mind, and none of the images in my head were real.
I saw the rooms shift as I walked through the Cardinal home. I passed by a mirror, and paused.
It was my mask. My hair. My smile. My eyes. I winked. “You’re brilliant,” I told my reflection, and then flew away from the home before the police could get there.
Me. It was me.
I had lived an unusual life. One riddled with what I thought to be far more than my fair share of pain. It was also riddled with memory loss, a malady I had once attributed to my mind’s method of survival. If something is too heavy to hold, drop it.
I supposed I had been correct in this theory. What I hadn’t realized is that I didn’t simply forget the memory. My mind, unbeknownst to me, created a completely separate personality in whom I could store this memory – and who I could pull out again whenever being forced into an action so evil that even the thought of it was beyond what my conscience could handle.
Ever since Dottore had made contact with me a year ago, we had never met in person. We had never even shared a phone call. It was the best way to go about criminal activities. If one person gets caught, they cannot give any information leading to the other’s arrest. Our communication had been entirely through text, voice scramblers, or sometimes other codes.
I had been sending codes to… myself.
I was a psychological mess. And Scaramuccia, as she called herself, was nowhere near finished.
It was like watching a horror film. But it was a thousand times worse, because it was my own memories. Ones she had shown me already replayed in my mind. Ones she had yet to show me left me staggered at how there could be any more.
And the more it continued, the more it sank in. Hannah was not fearful because Dottore was in her mind. She was fearful because she was watching me shout at no one.
This was not some crazed villain who had figured out how to project false images into my mind. These images were real. These memories were real. And it was I who perpetrated each unspeakably horrific act.
It was I. I did this evil. No god would ever accept the likes of you.
You may have known anguish. But you have never known anguish like I felt in that moment. My conscience was searing, screaming at me, denouncing my right to live. I felt, with each wave of memory, whether it was a new one or a replay of an old one, an increasing horror, an increasing guilt, and an increasing realization of the depths of evil that I was capable of.
I was overcome with a sorrow so deep that I felt pain in every cell of my body. It was as I imagine the feeling of drowning would be. Longing for escape with every ounce of strength in you while thrashing about to reach the surface. Thinking there was no way you could handle any more, only for it to continue. Hopelessness overcame me.
I had once thought that there was an escape for me. I had once thought that despite the evil I had done, I could be redeemed. I had once thought that God could love me, forgive me, and make me new.
But that was before I knew about… all of this. Thoughts of God came to me, along with a burning shame. Thoughts of calling out for His help occurred to me, but I could not ask Him to even consider one so vile as I. And so it was that a deep feeling of abandonment settled over my soul, like a coffin locking in all of the other forms of pain that were killing me.
“You can end this,” Scaramuccia cooed.
I opened my eyes and realized I was curled up in the dirt a few feet from the cliff. I was sore and tired from sobbing. But the world around seemed unconcerned at my plight. At my eye level, an eagle soared over the trees covering the majestic valley before me. The late afternoon sun broke through the receding clouds and filled the scene with such light that it seemed as if the vista before me was a sample of what Heaven held in store.
Not that I would ever know.
Screams of my victims reverberated in my mind against the palpable calm of the forest. It almost seemed right for something as pure and serene as this place to swallow me whole and relieve the earth of the misery of sustaining my existence.
Yet even now, throwing myself off of the cliff did not seem like the answer. To atone for my offenses to God I would commit yet another?
“I won’t do it,” I breathed. And even if I did want to, the strain on my mind and body at receiving these deeply hidden memories was such that I was surprised I was still alive. Even sitting up seemed like a Herculean feat.
It was then that another voice broke into my conversation with Scaramuccia.
“Isabella?”
It was Nancy. She was here. And she was alive.
Trembling with effort, I pushed myself up enough to turn toward the tree line. There Nancy stood, along with Ned, Fenton, and a handful of police officers, some already making their way to where Hannah was hidden. Seeing those I had so deeply hurt sent new waves of guilt through my core, and I began weeping again. I buried my head in my arms and collapsed back onto the ground.
“Isabella? Who…? Nevermind. Well, Gina, soon enough they’re going to punish you for every one of the ways that you’ve destroyed the lives of others. You could let them handle justice their way. You could suffer through trial after trial, hearing retellings of the things you’ve done, having surviving family members scream their hate at you and let you know just how deserving of Hades you are.
“Or… You could stand up, tell these people you’re sorry, and then make the plunge. They won’t be able to stop you. And it’ll be a lot more poetic.”
“I won’t do it,” I repeated, and with everything in me, forced myself to stand to meet those who had just joined this showdown.
I felt Scaramuccia sigh inside me. I felt her push forward for control of my body, pulling me into a place where only dreams and memories existed. “Well then. We’ll go for plan two.”
And she pulled a gun out of my jacket, one I hadn’t even realized was there.
“Your choice, Gina. Jump, or I’ll kill them all.”
“No!” I cried out inside myself, even as my own hands readied the gun to shoot. I fought for control but could feel myself fading. My strength was gone. It felt as if there was nothing I could do to stop Scaramuccia.
Officers pulled out their own weapons. They ordered me to drop mine. As I drifted, I saw the faces of the three people in the crowd whose names I knew. Fenton, steely and grim. Ned, angry and rightly so. Nancy, watchful… but not hateful.
Not hateful. How could anyone not hate me?
Oh, God. It was not Scaramuccia’s voice, but my own thoughts that I heard. Save me.
She spoke through my lips, “Time’s up. I’m shooting.”
“NO!” I screamed, and with a sudden force of will not my own, I pushed toward the front and grabbed control of my body. I swung to the drop behind me and threw the gun into the canopy below, even as it fired a wild shot, planting a bullet firmly into a tree twenty feet from the spectators.
I fell to my hands and knees, sobbing, and my fingers gripped the jagged edge of the cliff.
“You may not control me any longer, Scaramuccia,” I whispered. “Even if it means misery for the rest of my life, God alone will I serve.”
Hands grabbed me from behind. Cold metal wrapped around my wrists. I was searched for more weapons, and was shocked at the amount they found on me. I was silent and compliant as they lead me away and read me my rights. But I was so drained that I do not think I could have fought off the officers if I wanted to.
I hoped to catch another glimpse of Nancy’s face. I wanted to know that there was someone out there who knew what I had done yet did not hate me. But Nancy had run over to Hannah. When I looked up, it was Ned’s stare that I met instead.
Cold. Judging. Condemning.
“He will never forgive you. And you deserve that. Not even God could forgive all you’ve done.”
And I knew… she was right. There was a fiery place reserved for people like me. And it was the only place I was fit for.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis is my favorite chapter in this story. ♥ Also a major reason I doubt that it will pass the HeR violence rules. XD I've done lots and lots of research to figure out how to portray this chapter as true to life as I can. And it was so fun to try to get into Gina's head and bring to life everything she was going through. A challenge, but fun. Haha.
Depending on how much you know about psychology, everything may or may not make sense now. XD Wednesday's chapter will explain things in more detail, so hang in there if you're still bewildered. XD
Also I really wanted to use the word Hell here but HeR won't allow that sooooo... Hades. Now to find out if NDO allows it... XDXDXD
Eloise - Baha, hopefully conflicted hyperventilating in a good way? XDXDXD Haha, sorry for the brain pain. hopefully this and the next chapter brings some relief. XD PSYCHOLOGY! HUMAN BRAINS! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! XD
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Aug 5, 2019 12:35:38 GMT -5
I can't wait to read this chapter!!!!GinaI felt as if I were the heroine in a story of tragic ending. The sky was clouded over, and the normal sounds of nature were hushed in the aftermath of a still-fading storm. Yet a gentle breeze, whispering in the trees, gave me courage. Its whisper seemed to be that I was not alone, and that no matter what happened, this was not the end.
Thus remembering my King, I braced to face Dottore.
I had contacted her and demanded that she stop. After some negotiating, she had agreed to meet me. I knew… this was going to be my last stand. I was afraid. But a higher desire in me drove me toward my enemy. A longing to be free.
I couldn’t remember most of the journey through the woods. Suffering from my past had made memory a weak spot of mine. But where I stood, the forest cleared out. Twenty feet ahead of me, a majestic rock face dropped hundreds of feet. I did not wish to go near that ledge, for I did not wish for Dottore to be able to corner me so easily. I waited at the edge of the forest, and listened.
And she spoke. “That whole kidnapping Frank thing went well for you, didn’t it?” she mocked. Her laugh rang out. “Well, come on out, coward. Come and face me, like you said you would. Come and stop me.”
I did not move. Her voice was clear and distinct, but I was not hearing it from outside of me. I was hearing it from inside. This startled me, but I brushed it off as the effects of the fatigue and stress I was under. She spoke again - and again, I heard her inside my head. “Come on, Gina! I’ll show myself, I promise. But you’re going to move first. You demanded this meeting, but I’m going to be the one controlling it.”
I took my first brave steps forward. I did so cautiously, but not timidly. I was afraid of her, but I would not cower before her.
“Very good, Gina,” she called out, once I was far enough into the clearing for her satisfaction. I scanned the tree line, attempting to pin her location. Even if her voice was inside my head, I knew that she herself could not be. “Now then, I want you to jump off that cliff,” she continued.
I scoffed at her demand and stood my ground. “Dottore, I am not jumping off of that cliff.”
Once again she laughed. “Oh, Gina, Gina, Gina. You don’t want to right now, but by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging me to let you make that flying leap.”
I shook my head. “No, Dottore. I’ve told you before, I will no longer submit to your orders when they go against the desires of my God. My loyalty is to Him now.”
“That’s just peachy. But first of all, don’t call me Dottore anymore. That’s not my name.” And that laugh again – eerie and wild. “My name, my dearest Gina, is Scaramuccia.”
“Sophia, stop this. You’ve come unhinged. Let me…”
Then I saw a figure in the forest. The problem was, it couldn’t be Gina. The wide, terrified eyes of an old and frail woman stared back at me.
I stepped toward her. “Sophia, what is this? Your quarrel is with me! Stop…”
“No, you stop, Gina. In fact, take another step forward, and I’ll shoot the old woman.”
I froze.
“I wanted an audience for your final jump, but you know Ned is hard to convince without the proper motivation. Now get back into the clearing. The closer you are to the edge, the safer Hannah will be.”
I backed up into the clearing until there was ten feet between myself and the ridge. Knowing that Sophia was baiting Ned into coming gave me hope. She was overplaying her hand. I just had to stall.
“Sophia, you are insane.”
“Oh, Gina, don’t worry, I have this whole thing figured out. Now that everyone knows what a monster you are, now that you have no allies, now that everyone in the world is against you, you are finally going to snap. It was just too much for your conscience to take. You wanted the images to go away, the screams of your victims reverberating through your mind to stop. And you could think of only one way to do that.
“And so you jumped. And you will go down in history as one of the vilest human beings to ever breathe this planet’s air.”
If her words were meant to drive me to despair, they missed their mark. I continued to carefully follow the outline of every tree, every bush, to see if I could find Sophia’s hiding place, but the only sign of human life was Hannah, her wide eyes still staring at me as if I were the object of her terror. I wondered… was she hearing Sophia inside her head, too?
With a shiver I responded to Sophia, “Thank God that not a word of what you have said is true.”
Again, she laughed. “I have something I want to show you, my dear, dear Gina.”
And at her words a memory hit me strongly enough for me to feel it in my soul. In my mind’s eye, I saw before me three people – a woman and two girls. These three I had never seen before, and yet curiously I knew they were a mother and daughters. And I somehow knew they were Fango’s wife and daughters.
How did I know this?
I was quickly distracted from my confusion as the memory continued. I saw now not just who was involved, but what was happening. Those three were tied up. They were crying. They were afraid. They were begging for their lives.
All I could see was them, but I knew that someone was coming to get them.
And with a shock of horror I saw in this memory, with undeniable clarity, that the person coming after them was me. But I did not just see it. I did not just hear it. I felt it. I felt the hatred in my heart toward Fango, and subsequently toward these girls. I felt the desire to end them and cause Fango this great pain.
I felt the satisfaction of the finished job. I felt myself smile as I walked away.
When the real world began to come into focus again, I found myself on my hands and knees in the mud, panting.
I blinked. It was not stress or fatigue. Dottore was in my head.
“What was that?” I asked
“Are you impressed?” she said smoothly. I quickly swept the entire clearing with my eyes once again. “He was actually very helpful to me. He convinced everyone that Gina Sciarra kidnapped both Nancy Drew and Frank Hardy, and that the only thing she wanted was revenge. We had to make sure everyone knew how desperate you had become. Too bad for Fango, the Sciarra family never forgets. And never forgives.”
Still there was no sign of her.
Frustrated, I called out, “Show yourself, Leoprace! No more games!”
Her laugh hit me from all sides. It grew louder and louder until it morphed into a scream. “I. Am. Not. Sophia!” I clutched my head with my eyes opened wide in shock. She truly had broken into my mind and grabbed control of my senses from the inside. I felt violated and afraid, not to mention confused. How? How was she doing this?
“But all right,” she said softly. “I’ll show you who I am. I’ll reveal to you my deepest, darkest secret. It’s a secret I’ve kept since I was born.”
I sat up, still on my knees, and braced myself to be able to move quickly. I prepared my mind to be ready to process whatever awful thing she may reveal to me, and prepared my body to be ready to move with decisiveness should she then determine to come at me from out of the woods. And she spoke.
“Regina Sciarra, I… am you.”
At her words, I felt the muscles in my shoulders relax. It was almost a disappointment after I had so readied myself to hear this horrible truth. Were I not so afraid, I would have laughed.
“Really, Dottore…”
“NOT. Dottore!” she screamed at me, still using some psychological trick to sound as if she were inside my mind. “My name is Scaramuccia! I was born when you were twelve and too weak, too pathetic to do what you had to to survive! You wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for me!”
And another memory struck me. It started with details familiar to me. Orders to get rid of a young witness to my family’s criminal activities, in such a way as to serve as a warning to those who she had told what she had seen. Horror filling me at the thought. I remembered retreating into myself, and then nothing until a few days later. Now new details took shape in my memory. Part of me splitting off and taking over as I simultaneously hid deep within myself. This other part delighting in planning out the strike. Hunting the target down. Finishing her off. This other part falling asleep in my body, and me waking up in control again. Her taking the memory of the murder with her. A memory I wish she had just kept.
“Ever since then, I’ve taken care of you! I’ve been the strong one doing everything you couldn’t handle! I did your dirty work so that you wouldn’t have to!”
Another memory. Out on a heist. Things had gone wrong. My partners had underestimated security. A guard got in my way, and I had to kill him.
My parents were enraged. Not at me, but at those who were supposed to help me. They could think of only one solution, and demanded that I make an example of those who fail the Sciarra family. I shall spare you the details - details that I was no longer spared of as this Scaramuccia laid them all bare before me.
“You owe me everything, Gina, everything! And you had the gall to turn your back on me – for some imaginary god!
“But I want you to know something, Gina,” Scaramuccia continued, “no god would ever accept the likes of you. And I want you to know why.”
This time the memory was from only this morning. And it was in a place I knew well. I was waiting in the kitchen when Ned walked in. I knocked him out and tied him up, contemplating doing much more and much worse. However, I held back, deciding that I wanted nothing to distract him from the mental and emotional strain I was about to put on him.
He awoke, and I gave my speech, hardly looking his way. When I did get down to his level and met his eye, someone jumped on me.
I had received adequate training for attacks such as this one, and before I even knew who had attacked me, he was lying on the floor, lifeless. I cared little for who they were; those who stood in my way would die.
But how perfect that of all people, it was Joe. I wondered for a moment at how easy it had been, and realized he must have been blinded by rage. It often had worked to my advantage to get people to hate me.
Ned’s horror, my glee. Both shocked me at the memory of them. Still I held on to the idea that somehow, someway, Dottore had gotten into my mind, and none of the images in my head were real.
I saw the rooms shift as I walked through the Cardinal home. I passed by a mirror, and paused.
It was my mask. My hair. My smile. My eyes. I winked. “You’re brilliant,” I told my reflection, and then flew away from the home before the police could get there.
Me. It was me.
I had lived an unusual life. One riddled with what I thought to be far more than my fair share of pain. It was also riddled with memory loss, a malady I had once attributed to my mind’s method of survival. If something is too heavy to hold, drop it.
I supposed I had been correct in this theory. What I hadn’t realized is that I didn’t simply forget the memory. My mind, unbeknownst to me, created a completely separate personality in whom I could store this memory – and who I could pull out again whenever being forced into an action so evil that even the thought of it was beyond what my conscience could handle.
Ever since Dottore had made contact with me a year ago, we had never met in person. We had never even shared a phone call. It was the best way to go about criminal activities. If one person gets caught, they cannot give any information leading to the other’s arrest. Our communication had been entirely through text, voice scramblers, or sometimes other codes.
I had been sending codes to… myself.
I was a psychological mess. And Scaramuccia, as she called herself, was nowhere near finished.
It was like watching a horror film. But it was a thousand times worse, because it was my own memories. Ones she had shown me already replayed in my mind. Ones she had yet to show me left me staggered at how there could be any more.
And the more it continued, the more it sank in. Hannah was not fearful because Dottore was in her mind. She was fearful because she was watching me shout at no one.
This was not some crazed villain who had figured out how to project false images into my mind. These images were real. These memories were real. And it was I who perpetrated each unspeakably horrific act.
It was I. I did this evil. No god would ever accept the likes of you.
You may have known anguish. But you have never known anguish like I felt in that moment. My conscience was searing, screaming at me, denouncing my right to live. I felt, with each wave of memory, whether it was a new one or a replay of an old one, an increasing horror, an increasing guilt, and an increasing realization of the depths of evil that I was capable of.
I was overcome with a sorrow so deep that I felt pain in every cell of my body. It was as I imagine the feeling of drowning would be. Longing for escape with every ounce of strength in you while thrashing about to reach the surface. Thinking there was no way you could handle any more, only for it to continue. Hopelessness overcame me.
I had once thought that there was an escape for me. I had once thought that despite the evil I had done, I could be redeemed. I had once thought that God could love me, forgive me, and make me new.
But that was before I knew about… all of this. Thoughts of God came to me, along with a burning shame. Thoughts of calling out for His help occurred to me, but I could not ask Him to even consider one so vile as I. And so it was that a deep feeling of abandonment settled over my soul, like a coffin locking in all of the other forms of pain that were killing me.
“You can end this,” Scaramuccia cooed.
I opened my eyes and realized I was curled up in the dirt a few feet from the cliff. I was sore and tired from sobbing. But the world around seemed unconcerned at my plight. At my eye level, an eagle soared over the trees covering the majestic valley before me. The late afternoon sun broke through the receding clouds and filled the scene with such light that it seemed as if the vista before me was a sample of what Heaven held in store.
Not that I would ever know.
Screams of my victims reverberated in my mind against the palpable calm of the forest. It almost seemed right for something as pure and serene as this place to swallow me whole and relieve the earth of the misery of sustaining my existence.
Yet even now, throwing myself off of the cliff did not seem like the answer. To atone for my offenses to God I would commit yet another?
“I won’t do it,” I breathed. And even if I did want to, the strain on my mind and body at receiving these deeply hidden memories was such that I was surprised I was still alive. Even sitting up seemed like a Herculean feat.
It was then that another voice broke into my conversation with Scaramuccia.
“Isabella?”
It was Nancy. She was here. And she was alive.
Trembling with effort, I pushed myself up enough to turn toward the tree line. There Nancy stood, along with Ned, Fenton, and a handful of police officers, some already making their way to where Hannah was hidden. Seeing those I had so deeply hurt sent new waves of guilt through my core, and I began weeping again. I buried my head in my arms and collapsed back onto the ground.
“Isabella? Who…? Nevermind. Well, Gina, soon enough they’re going to punish you for every one of the ways that you’ve destroyed the lives of others. You could let them handle justice their way. You could suffer through trial after trial, hearing retellings of the things you’ve done, having surviving family members scream their hate at you and let you know just how deserving of Hades you are.
“Or… You could stand up, tell these people you’re sorry, and then make the plunge. They won’t be able to stop you. And it’ll be a lot more poetic.”
“I won’t do it,” I repeated, and with everything in me, forced myself to stand to meet those who had just joined this showdown.
I felt Scaramuccia sigh inside me. I felt her push forward for control of my body, pulling me into a place where only dreams and memories existed. “Well then. We’ll go for plan two.”
And she pulled a gun out of my jacket, one I hadn’t even realized was there.
“Your choice, Gina. Jump, or I’ll kill them all.”
“No!” I cried out inside myself, even as my own hands readied the gun to shoot. I fought for control but could feel myself fading. My strength was gone. It felt as if there was nothing I could do to stop Scaramuccia.
Officers pulled out their own weapons. They ordered me to drop mine. As I drifted, I saw the faces of the three people in the crowd whose names I knew. Fenton, steely and grim. Ned, angry and rightly so. Nancy, watchful… but not hateful.
Not hateful. How could anyone not hate me?
Oh, God. It was not Scaramuccia’s voice, but my own thoughts that I heard. Save me.
She spoke through my lips, “Time’s up. I’m shooting.”
“NO!” I screamed, and with a sudden force of will not my own, I pushed toward the front and grabbed control of my body. I swung to the drop behind me and threw the gun into the canopy below, even as it fired a wild shot, planting a bullet firmly into a tree twenty feet from the spectators.
I fell to my hands and knees, sobbing, and my fingers gripped the jagged edge of the cliff.
“You may not control me any longer, Scaramuccia,” I whispered. “Even if it means misery for the rest of my life, God alone will I serve.”
Hands grabbed me from behind. Cold metal wrapped around my wrists. I was searched for more weapons, and was shocked at the amount they found on me. I was silent and compliant as they lead me away and read me my rights. But I was so drained that I do not think I could have fought off the officers if I wanted to.
I hoped to catch another glimpse of Nancy’s face. I wanted to know that there was someone out there who knew what I had done yet did not hate me. But Nancy had run over to Hannah. When I looked up, it was Ned’s stare that I met instead.
Cold. Judging. Condemning.
“He will never forgive you. And you deserve that. Not even God could forgive all you’ve done.”
And I knew… she was right. There was a fiery place reserved for people like me. And it was the only place I was fit for.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis is my favorite chapter in this story. ♥ Also a major reason I doubt that it will pass the HeR violence rules. XD I've done lots and lots of research to figure out how to portray this chapter as true to life as I can. And it was so fun to try to get into Gina's head and bring to life everything she was going through. A challenge, but fun. Haha. I wasn't expecting a plot twist where Gina had DID but it did make an interesting chapter for sure.
Depending on how much you know about psychology, everything may or may not make sense now. XD Wednesday's chapter will explain things in more detail, so hang in there if you're still bewildered. XD
Also I really wanted to use the word Hell here but HeR won't allow that sooooo... Hades. Now to find out if NDO allows it... XDXDXD
Eloise - Baha, hopefully conflicted hyperventilating in a good way? I don't remember but honestly at this point I'm going to assume it was in a bad way. XDXDXD Haha, sorry for the brain pain. hopefully this and the next chapter brings some relief. XD PSYCHOLOGY! HUMAN BRAINS! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! XD Unfortunately, I was not a fan of this chapter but I am sure that is just me. XD I've also decided that I don't like Ned in this ML because he reminds me too much of Carson in SPY.
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Aug 7, 2019 12:22:33 GMT -5
Frank
I was not okay. With Joe’s death, it didn’t just feel like someone had violently wrenched away a piece of who I was; it felt like the piece of my heart that was taken away was replaced with a jagged thorn that would never stop cutting.
I would give up all the senses I had left to bring him back.
But one of the first things I had to learn when I went blind was how to not be okay. It was a lesson I had to choose to live out today, when I found myself across a table from Gina hours after learning Joe had died at her hand.
Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her normally pale face was red from crying and covered with the tracks of dried tears.
At least, that’s what I imagined she looked like. Dad later made a comment about how surprised he was that Gina looked as well-groomed as she did when he and I faced her in the interrogation room. There was a little dirt on her face, but apparently the only thing I had imagined correctly was the tracks of tears – but they weren’t dry. Tears were still silently falling.
From the sounds in the room, my mind pieced together an image of the classic rectangle box with dark, metallic walls, either not well lit or way too bright, with nothing but a table and chairs in the middle. There was probably a one-way window somewhere, so that people outside could see in, but we couldn’t see out.
Dad later described the room for me and apparently the only detail I had imagined right was that there was a table and chairs in the room. But he was used to me losing our game of “Describe That Room!”
I can tell you with greater accuracy who was in the room. Gina, clearly. Dad had talked to the chief of police and gotten permission for us to be able to talk to her. It was decided that Dad and I should go. Ned didn’t think himself calm enough to face Gina, and Nancy was taking Hannah home.
The fourth and final person in the room was Officer Hernandez. He already knew most of the details of the case, and was assigned to make sure Dad and I were safe. I could hear him breathing from somewhere behind Gina. I won’t waste your time with my incorrect mental perception of him.
When we settled down in our seats, there was silence for a moment. Dad spoke first.
“We have a lot of questions for you, Gina,” he said.
“I will answer them as best as I can,” Gina said quietly.
“What was going on at the ridge?” Dad asked.
Taking a moment to think before she spoke, Gina quietly, shakily recounted her confrontation with a woman she called Scaramuccia. I listened, at first confused. But as more details were given, my mind pieced together the picture and I was blown away.
Dissociative Identity Disorder, one of the many disorders our ATAC training had required Joe and me to be familiar with. Gina’s story screamed of it. *
Once, it was known as Multiple Personality Disorder, back when people thought it was a case of a person having multiple independent personalities living in one body. That assumption was close, but missed the fact that those with DID are born with a single personality. The prevailing theory is that DID is caused when a person goes through something more traumatic than they can handle. As a protective measure, their brain literally dissociates from what is happening, hiding them from the situation.
But someone has to still take the blow – whether physically, emotionally, or mentally. So a part of the person’s personality is split off, specifically suited to handle the traumatic situation, and that part takes over until the trauma is over. This part of the person becomes a distinct personality, and can keep even the memory that caused the dissociation from ever reaching the person they split off from.
Sometimes, like in Gina’s case, one or more of the personalities may not know for years about the others – or may never know. As you can imagine, discovering that other people live in your body and have memories that you don’t can itself be a traumatic thing. Because of this, and the fact that some say that DID is only developed through the power of suggestion, I decided I would leave it to someone who was an expert in this area to explain to Gina what was going on. But that didn’t mean there was nothing I could do to help her.
She wasn’t okay. By the end of her story, she could barely speak. The memories of the things she had done had broken her. She spoke of the things her hands had done under Scarmuccia’s influence, things she believed herself fully responsible for. Then, her words broken with wretched sobs, she spoke of the thing that brought her the greatest regret.
“I didn’t know that Scaramuccia didn’t have Nancy, and that miscalculation cost Joe his life.” She had to pause a moment before she continued.
“She showed me that memory. I threatened Ned. I killed Joe. Then as I left I saw my reflection in the mirror and…” Her voice and cries became muffled as she buried her face in her hands.
“These memories!” she wailed. “They are too much! They are too awful! But I can’t escape them! What have I done – my God, what have I done! Only Hades is left for me!”
The officer moved forward, and Dad intervened.
“Could you wait a moment before taking her out? Give her a chance to calm down?”
“If this visit keeps disturbing her like this, I’m going to take her back to her cell for her own wellbeing,” he warned, backing up again.
“Fair enough,” Dad responded.
We gave her a moment, then Dad asked, “Do you feel like you can go on, Gina?”
Her breathing shuttered as she fought to control herself. “Yes, sir,” she finally managed.
Then I broke in. “This is kind of a personal question, but… what did you mean by that last thing you said, Gina? That only Hades is left for you?”
I heard Gina take in a sharp breath.
“Are you all right?” Dad asked.
“Yes, it is only… Scaramuccia is reminding me again of the many reasons there is no good left for me. She is reminding me… God has abandoned me.”
“God hasn’t abandoned you, Gina,” I said.
The officer responded before Gina did. “Sir, this room is intended for investigation, not proselytizing.”
Gina defended me before I could. “But sir, I do wish to answer and discuss this, and I wish to do so with Frank. May I?”
“Fine,” Hernandez said.
Gina shifted in her chair and I heard her voice directed toward me. “This is difficult for me,” she said. “I feel abandoned. And I feel it is only right that I be abandoned, after… everything…”
She paused, and I didn’t push her to finish. She made every noise that would come from someone torn with sorrow, and I didn’t desire to make things any more difficult for her than they already were.
Yet her statement made me concerned that she was being tortured by a lie.
“Gina… that’s not true,” I said.
“I… do not understand.”
“Earlier this week, when you came to God, did He accept you?”
“I believed that He did. But…”
“Why?”
“Why? Why what?” she asked me, confused.
“Why did you think He accepted you?”
“I suppose… because my desires changed. I did not desire to do things I had desired before. And my conscience changed. Things I was once able to ignore caused me discomfort and even… grief.”
“And do you know why that happened?” I asked her.
“I… no, I do not,” she answered, with a tone that indicated she expected me to have the answer. I gave it.
“It’s because He accepted you.”
Gina didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure if she believed me. “It sounds like you think that God cannot accept you because of the things you’ve done. Is that right?” I asked her.
“How could He?”
“Gina, do you realize that the night that you surrendered your life to Christ, and did radical things because of your faith in Him, God knew about every single thing you’ve ever done?”
“Um, that seems logical.”
“Then look, my dear sister in Christ, you are believing a lie, and you need to stop it.”
“What do you mean?” Gina queried.
“Christ promised that He would not turn away anyone who comes to Him. And He didn’t add any exceptions to that. Anyone who believes that what God has said is true, and lives out their trust in Him by obeying Him, He will accept them, no matter who they are or what they have done. He promised that, Gina. And if you refuse to believe that, you’re calling Him a liar.”
“I understand,” Gina replied slowly. “But though I understand, I struggle to accept this. It is… too wonderful.”
“Hold on to this, Gina. Jesus said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you.’ Not now, not ever.”
“I will never leave you…” she whispered.
And do I ever wish I had eyes to see what happened next. I heard Gina swallow, fidget in her chair, and let out an occasional, “Um.”
Dad filled in some of the gaps, speaking low. “Her eyes are blinking irregularly. She looks distracted. I think she’s dissociating.”
So Dad suspected DID too. I braced myself for Scaramuccia’s takeover.
“Are you okay?” Officer Hernandez asked, moving forward.
“Yeah… um…” she responded. Then she gasped and started to cry.
“Do we need to end this?” Officer Hernandez asked.
“No,” Gina responded, and by the way the pitch of that word shifted I could tell she was shaking her head vigorously. “It’s just that… someone else who was really mean told me once that they would never leave me and they weren’t being nice about it. It made me think of that.”
Her voice was different. It was higher. It was childlike. It matched the voice that had called Nancy and pleaded for her help. And suddenly everything made sense.
“Isabella?” I asked.
“Yeah,” said Gina’s body, though in a way, it was no longer Gina speaking. “I had to come out because Gina can’t know what happened or it’ll hurt her too much. So I can’t let her remember about that time that someone said they would never leave her.”
From the lack of sounds coming from Officer Hernandez, I could tell he was frozen with confusion.
“Does Gina know about you?” Dad asked.
I heard a rustling that I assumed was her shaking her head vigorously. “No,” she said. “But I don’t want her to. Because if she does know about me, then maybe she’ll find out about my memories, too, and that would be really really bad for Gina. Mean people did really bad stuff to her and if she remembers then she’ll be really sad. So please don’t tell her about me yet.”
“Does Scarmuccia know about you?” said Dad.
“No, she doesn’t know either.”
Then it was my turn. “So you’re the one who saved Nancy, aren’t you?”
“Um, yes. I knew that Scaramuccia was going to do bad stuff to her so I tried to get her to run away but she wouldn’t listen to me so I put her in Gina’s van and made sure that no one else saw her but I don’t think I took very good care of her.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t really know how to do stuff like that. So I’m glad you found her.”
“How old are you, Isabella?” I asked, remembering that alters can sometimes be a different age than the person they were split off from.
“I’m seven. And a half.” Then she sighed and her speech slowed. “Um, I have to go now. It feels like Gina wants to come back out. Thank you for being so nice to her. She really likes it when you talk to her about God. And I like it, too.”
I heard the same noises from Gina's first switch. I heard Officer Hernandez come closer.
“I don’t like this. You are not okay, and don’t try to tell me you are, with that blinking you’re doing. I’m getting you out of here.”
Isabella’s voice responded. “No... I’m…”
The door to the room banged open. Two sets of footprints, urgent and heavy. They both came our way. One set stopped a bit off from the table. Because of the metallic noises partnered with these feet, I knew it was a police officer. The other set came closer and slammed something metallic, something that was attached to a thin chain, on the table.
“Gina, we need answers now,” said Ned. Even unseeing I could tell he was fuming. His breathing gave that away.
“Um…” It was again Isabella’s tone that came from Gina’s body. It seemed that at this point, she was switching out and couldn’t hang on if she wanted to.
“What did you rig? What is the code to stop it?” Ned demanded.
I heard Gina giggle. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”
Her voice was lower than Gina’s natural tone, and in a way, more expressive. Her accent was thicker, and the words she said danced with an Italian intonation.
“Ned, what’s going on? What is this thing?” Dad asked.
“This,” Ned spat, “is a fob that is linked by satellite to some kind of lethal device that will go off unless Gina enters a code into it every 24 hours. It’s been used against me before, so I knew exactly what it was when I saw it sitting with everything that had been confiscated from Gina.”
“I was pleased when I discovered I could use again the technology that Arlecchino had once used to keep you on your leash, Brighella.”
“Don’t mess with me!” Ned screamed at Gina. But I realized, it wasn’t Gina. When Isabella switched out, Gina didn’t take over. Scaramuccia did. To say the thought worried me a bit would be an understatement. And the fact that Ned sounded like he wanted to kill Gina didn’t make things any better.
Scaramuccia let out an insane laugh as my dad told Ned he needed to calm down.
“You thought this skirmish was over, didn’t you, Brighella? Thought that everyone was safe now that Gina was in jail?”
If she kept that up I didn’t think anything my dad said would be able to calm Ned down.
“I’m taking her back to her cell,” Officer Hernandez said with a tone that told everyone he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him this time.
“I left a little birdie at your house,” Scaramuccia told Ned as the officer stood her up. “You probably have… five minutes? I’ve been kind of busy today, so I haven’t been able to enter the code.”
“The cardinal,” I heard Ned gasp, and then he flew from the room and ran down the hallway.
I heard the clinging of its chain as my dad picked the keypad up off of the table. Once again Officer Hernandez was stopped. “Officer, you can’t lead her away. She has something lethal rigged to go off unless a code is entered into this fob.”
Scaramuccia was forced back into the seat, and the officer joined the interrogation. “What is the code?” he asked severely.
“Hm,” Scaramuccia said in a carefree tone, “I’d rather not tell you. I’ve always wanted to go out with a bang.”
As Dad and the officer tried to reason with her, Scaramuccia refused to cooperate. I realized that even if Gina took over now, she probably didn’t know the code. But there was someone else who might.
I broke into the questions Scaramuccia was being grilled with. “Isabella, can you hear me? Do you know the code? Can you help us?”
Scaramuccia laughed. “And here I thought I was… the crazy… um…”
“She blinking again,” my dad told me.
She gasped.
“I’m so sorry! I forgot! I was trying to help Gina and Nancy and I meant to try to make sure that the code was entered but…” her childlike voice shook.
“It’s okay, Isabella, just tell us the code,” I said.
That’s the last thing I remember before a searing heat shot through my leg. My muscles seized with a nasty tingling as I realized she had rigged the box Callie’s ring was in, which was currently in my pocket. My body was the pathway the electric current pulsing through the little black box needed to make its escape. I remember hearing someone shout my name. I remember thinking with desperation that I had to get this case out of my pocket.
Then the world around me went silent.
Ned
I knew holding onto hate would kill me. I knew that I would never truly be free from all that Gina had done to me and those I loved unless I could forgive her. I knew that refusing to forgive hurt no one more than it hurt me.
I had my chance in the woods. I could have said those three words, “I forgive you,” but it would have been a lie.
I hated her. And as I rushed from the interrogation room to call Nancy, I swore that if Nancy died, I would never forgive Gina, and I would never regret refusing to forgive her. Not for a moment.
Especially not in this moment, when I was calling Nancy while rushing out to my car.
Come on. Pick up pick up pick up!
I rushed past the sleepy offices of the police station. At this hour, a lot of the lights were off and a lot of the staff was already at home. I did get some curious looks, but didn’t stop to explain as I burst through the front doors into the open air.
Then I decided that was a bad idea.
I rushed back inside and ran up to the first officer I could find.
I was still trying to call Nancy. She still wasn’t answering. I was hoping with everything in me that it wasn’t because Gina’s plush cardinal had exploded already.
“Gina is going to blow up my house with my wife inside!” was all I said, and all I had to say. The dark-skinned officer and his ginger partner leapt toward the doors and told me to come with them. As we loaded into the car, he communicated the situation over his walkie-talkie. By the time we were pulling out of the station, lights flashing and siren wailing, more officers were pouring out of the station.
Meanwhile, I was still calling Nancy.
“Come on, Nancy, please.”
Then she answered. I wasted no time with manners.
“Nancy, are you at home?” I said.
“Yes… why…” she answered.
“A bomb! No questions! Get out now, Nancy! The little cardinal in the house…”
Boom.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Favorite cliffies ever hehehehehehehe... The skirmish isn't over yet.
Disclaimer I typed up for the HeR boards, haha: **Author's Note: Dear readers, I want to make sure something is clear here. Various movies and books have left the impression that when someone has DID, they have an "evil alter" who is out to steal, kill, and destroy. This has caused some people to be afraid of those who have DID. I want to be clear that this is not true. If you ever meet someone who has DID, you have no reason to be afraid of them.
In this story, Scaramuccia is an evil character. But the reason for this is Gina's brain created the personality it needed to protect it when a traumatizing situation hit. One of the theories as to why alters form as they do is that the brain finds itself in a situation that it cannot handle. It splits, creating a personality that it thinks can protect it. In Gina's case, someone ruthless was needed for the situation that caused Scaramuccia to split off. I won't say that this kind of situation could never happen in real life, but it is so unlikely that you should never be afraid of a person with DID as if it's only a matter of time before their evil alter emerges.
This is a misconception that people with DID have to deal with, and because I have a character like Scaramuccia in this story, I wanted to be clear and do what I could to not perpetuate that myth.
I have never experienced DID and don't know anyone personally who has. Hopefully I've been able to portray it accurately. But if not, please forgive this amateur writer and her crazy ambitions.
And remember: people with DID are not scary monsters!!!
Eloise - I feel bad that you aren't enjoying this as much as you had dreamed, haha... But it does mean a lot that for some reason you're still reading. XD
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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EloiseDrew
Junior Sleuth
am i falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?
Posts: 56
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Post by EloiseDrew on Aug 7, 2019 20:31:22 GMT -5
FrankFor a hot second there I forgot that Joe died and not Frank and so I was like "Hm, strange this is a character who is dead talking" XDI was not okay. With Joe’s death, it didn’t just feel like someone had violently wrenched away a piece of who I was; it felt like the piece of my heart that was taken away was replaced with a jagged thorn that would never stop cutting.
I would give up all the senses I had left to bring him back.
But one of the first things I had to learn when I went blind was how to not be okay. It was a lesson I had to choose to live out today, when I found myself across a table from Gina hours after learning Joe had died at her hand.
Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her normally pale face was red from crying and covered with the tracks of dried tears.
At least, that’s what I imagined she looked like. Dad later made a comment about how surprised he was that Gina looked as well-groomed as she did when he and I faced her in the interrogation room. There was a little dirt on her face, but apparently the only thing I had imagined correctly was the tracks of tears – but they weren’t dry. Tears were still silently falling.
From the sounds in the room, my mind pieced together an image of the classic rectangle box with dark, metallic walls, either not well lit or way too bright, with nothing but a table and chairs in the middle. There was probably a one-way window somewhere, so that people outside could see in, but we couldn’t see out.
Dad later described the room for me and apparently the only detail I had imagined right was that there was a table and chairs in the room. But he was used to me losing our game of “Describe That Room!”
I can tell you with greater accuracy who was in the room. Gina, clearly. Dad had talked to the chief of police and gotten permission for us to be able to talk to her. It was decided that Dad and I should go. Ned didn’t think himself calm enough to face Gina, and Nancy was taking Hannah home.
The fourth and final person in the room was Officer Hernandez. He already knew most of the details of the case, and was assigned to make sure Dad and I were safe. I could hear him breathing from somewhere behind Gina. I won’t waste your time with my incorrect mental perception of him.
When we settled down in our seats, there was silence for a moment. Dad spoke first.
“We have a lot of questions for you, Gina,” he said.
“I will answer them as best as I can,” Gina said quietly.
“What was going on at the ridge?” Dad asked.
Taking a moment to think before she spoke, Gina quietly, shakily recounted her confrontation with a woman she called Scaramuccia. I listened, at first confused. But as more details were given, my mind pieced together the picture and I was blown away.
Dissociative Identity Disorder, one of the many disorders our ATAC training had required Joe and me to be familiar with. Gina’s story screamed of it. *
Once, it was known as Multiple Personality Disorder, back when people thought it was a case of a person having multiple independent personalities living in one body. That assumption was close, but missed the fact that those with DID are born with a single personality. The prevailing theory is that DID is caused when a person goes through something more traumatic than they can handle. As a protective measure, their brain literally dissociates from what is happening, hiding them from the situation.
But someone has to still take the blow – whether physically, emotionally, or mentally. So a part of the person’s personality is split off, specifically suited to handle the traumatic situation, and that part takes over until the trauma is over. This part of the person becomes a distinct personality, and can keep even the memory that caused the dissociation from ever reaching the person they split off from.
Sometimes, like in Gina’s case, one or more of the personalities may not know for years about the others – or may never know. As you can imagine, discovering that other people live in your body and have memories that you don’t can itself be a traumatic thing. Because of this, and the fact that some say that DID is only developed through the power of suggestion, I decided I would leave it to someone who was an expert in this area to explain to Gina what was going on. But that didn’t mean there was nothing I could do to help her.
She wasn’t okay. By the end of her story, she could barely speak. The memories of the things she had done had broken her. She spoke of the things her hands had done under Scarmuccia’s influence, things she believed herself fully responsible for. Then, her words broken with wretched sobs, she spoke of the thing that brought her the greatest regret.
“I didn’t know that Scaramuccia didn’t have Nancy, and that miscalculation cost Joe his life.” She had to pause a moment before she continued.
“She showed me that memory. I threatened Ned. I killed Joe. Then as I left I saw my reflection in the mirror and…” Her voice and cries became muffled as she buried her face in her hands.
“These memories!” she wailed. “They are too much! They are too awful! But I can’t escape them! What have I done – my God, what have I done! Only Hades is left for me!”
The officer moved forward, and Dad intervened.
“Could you wait a moment before taking her out? Give her a chance to calm down?”
“If this visit keeps disturbing her like this, I’m going to take her back to her cell for her own wellbeing,” he warned, backing up again.
“Fair enough,” Dad responded.
We gave her a moment, then Dad asked, “Do you feel like you can go on, Gina?”
Her breathing shuttered as she fought to control herself. “Yes, sir,” she finally managed.
Then I broke in. “This is kind of a personal question, but… what did you mean by that last thing you said, Gina? That only Hades is left for you?”
I heard Gina take in a sharp breath.
“Are you all right?” Dad asked.
“Yes, it is only… Scaramuccia is reminding me again of the many reasons there is no good left for me. She is reminding me… God has abandoned me.”
“God hasn’t abandoned you, Gina,” I said.
The officer responded before Gina did. “Sir, this room is intended for investigation, not proselytizing.”
Gina defended me before I could. “But sir, I do wish to answer and discuss this, and I wish to do so with Frank. May I?”
“Fine,” Hernandez said.
Gina shifted in her chair and I heard her voice directed toward me. “This is difficult for me,” she said. “I feel abandoned. And I feel it is only right that I be abandoned, after… everything…”
She paused, and I didn’t push her to finish. She made every noise that would come from someone torn with sorrow, and I didn’t desire to make things any more difficult for her than they already were.
Yet her statement made me concerned that she was being tortured by a lie.
“Gina… that’s not true,” I said.
“I… do not understand.”
“Earlier this week, when you came to God, did He accept you?”
“I believed that He did. But…”
“Why?”
“Why? Why what?” she asked me, confused.
“Why did you think He accepted you?”
“I suppose… because my desires changed. I did not desire to do things I had desired before. And my conscience changed. Things I was once able to ignore caused me discomfort and even… grief.”
“And do you know why that happened?” I asked her.
“I… no, I do not,” she answered, with a tone that indicated she expected me to have the answer. I gave it.
“It’s because He accepted you.”
Gina didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure if she believed me. “It sounds like you think that God cannot accept you because of the things you’ve done. Is that right?” I asked her.
“How could He?”
“Gina, do you realize that the night that you surrendered your life to Christ, and did radical things because of your faith in Him, God knew about every single thing you’ve ever done?”
“Um, that seems logical.”
“Then look, my dear sister in Christ, you are believing a lie, and you need to stop it.”
“What do you mean?” Gina queried.
“Christ promised that He would not turn away anyone who comes to Him. And He didn’t add any exceptions to that. Anyone who believes that what God has said is true, and lives out their trust in Him by obeying Him, He will accept them, no matter who they are or what they have done. He promised that, Gina. And if you refuse to believe that, you’re calling Him a liar.”
“I understand,” Gina replied slowly. “But though I understand, I struggle to accept this. It is… too wonderful.”
“Hold on to this, Gina. Jesus said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you.’ Not now, not ever.”
“I will never leave you…” she whispered.
And do I ever wish I had eyes to see what happened next. I heard Gina swallow, fidget in her chair, and let out an occasional, “Um.”
Dad filled in some of the gaps, speaking low. “Her eyes are blinking irregularly. She looks distracted. I think she’s dissociating.”
So Dad suspected DID too. I braced myself for Scaramuccia’s takeover.
“Are you okay?” Officer Hernandez asked, moving forward.
“Yeah… um…” she responded. Then she gasped and started to cry.
“Do we need to end this?” Officer Hernandez asked.
“No,” Gina responded, and by the way the pitch of that word shifted I could tell she was shaking her head vigorously. “It’s just that… someone else who was really mean told me once that they would never leave me and they weren’t being nice about it. It made me think of that.”
Her voice was different. It was higher. It was childlike. It matched the voice that had called Nancy and pleaded for her help. And suddenly everything made sense.
“Isabella?” I asked.
“Yeah,” said Gina’s body, though in a way, it was no longer Gina speaking. “I had to come out because Gina can’t know what happened or it’ll hurt her too much. So I can’t let her remember about that time that someone said they would never leave her.”
From the lack of sounds coming from Officer Hernandez, I could tell he was frozen with confusion.
“Does Gina know about you?” Dad asked.
I heard a rustling that I assumed was her shaking her head vigorously. “No,” she said. “But I don’t want her to. Because if she does know about me, then maybe she’ll find out about my memories, too, and that would be really really bad for Gina. Mean people did really bad stuff to her and if she remembers then she’ll be really sad. So please don’t tell her about me yet.”
“Does Scarmuccia know about you?” said Dad.
“No, she doesn’t know either.”
Then it was my turn. “So you’re the one who saved Nancy, aren’t you?”
“Um, yes. I knew that Scaramuccia was going to do bad stuff to her so I tried to get her to run away but she wouldn’t listen to me so I put her in Gina’s van and made sure that no one else saw her but I don’t think I took very good care of her.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t really know how to do stuff like that. So I’m glad you found her.”
“How old are you, Isabella?” I asked, remembering that alters can sometimes be a different age than the person they were split off from.
“I’m seven. And a half.” Then she sighed and her speech slowed. “Um, I have to go now. It feels like Gina wants to come back out. Thank you for being so nice to her. She really likes it when you talk to her about God. And I like it, too.”
I heard the same noises from Gina's first switch. I heard Officer Hernandez come closer.
“I don’t like this. You are not okay, and don’t try to tell me you are, with that blinking you’re doing. I’m getting you out of here.”
Isabella’s voice responded. “No... I’m…”
The door to the room banged open. Two sets of footprints, urgent and heavy. They both came our way. One set stopped a bit off from the table. Because of the metallic noises partnered with these feet, I knew it was a police officer. The other set came closer and slammed something metallic, something that was attached to a thin chain, on the table.
“Gina, we need answers now,” said Ned. Even unseeing I could tell he was fuming. His breathing gave that away.
“Um…” It was again Isabella’s tone that came from Gina’s body. It seemed that at this point, she was switching out and couldn’t hang on if she wanted to.
“What did you rig? What is the code to stop it?” Ned demanded.
I heard Gina giggle. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”
Her voice was lower than Gina’s natural tone, and in a way, more expressive. Her accent was thicker, and the words she said danced with an Italian intonation.
“Ned, what’s going on? What is this thing?” Dad asked.
“This,” Ned spat, “is a fob that is linked by satellite to some kind of lethal device that will go off unless Gina enters a code into it every 24 hours. It’s been used against me before, so I knew exactly what it was when I saw it sitting with everything that had been confiscated from Gina.”
“I was pleased when I discovered I could use again the technology that Arlecchino had once used to keep you on your leash, Brighella.”
“Don’t mess with me!” Ned screamed at Gina. But I realized, it wasn’t Gina. When Isabella switched out, Gina didn’t take over. Scaramuccia did. To say the thought worried me a bit would be an understatement. And the fact that Ned sounded like he wanted to kill Gina didn’t make things any better.
Scaramuccia let out an insane laugh as my dad told Ned he needed to calm down.
“You thought this skirmish was over, didn’t you, Brighella? Thought that everyone was safe now that Gina was in jail?”
If she kept that up I didn’t think anything my dad said would be able to calm Ned down.
“I’m taking her back to her cell,” Officer Hernandez said with a tone that told everyone he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him this time.
“I left a little birdie at your house,” Scaramuccia told Ned as the officer stood her up. “You probably have… five minutes? I’ve been kind of busy today, so I haven’t been able to enter the code.”
“The cardinal,” I heard Ned gasp, and then he flew from the room and ran down the hallway.
I heard the clinging of its chain as my dad picked the keypad up off of the table. Once again Officer Hernandez was stopped. “Officer, you can’t lead her away. She has something lethal rigged to go off unless a code is entered into this fob.”
Scaramuccia was forced back into the seat, and the officer joined the interrogation. “What is the code?” he asked severely.
“Hm,” Scaramuccia said in a carefree tone, “I’d rather not tell you. I’ve always wanted to go out with a bang.”
As Dad and the officer tried to reason with her, Scaramuccia refused to cooperate. I realized that even if Gina took over now, she probably didn’t know the code. But there was someone else who might.
I broke into the questions Scaramuccia was being grilled with. “Isabella, can you hear me? Do you know the code? Can you help us?”
Scaramuccia laughed. “And here I thought I was… the crazy… um…”
“She blinking again,” my dad told me.
She gasped.
“I’m so sorry! I forgot! I was trying to help Gina and Nancy and I meant to try to make sure that the code was entered but…” her childlike voice shook.
“It’s okay, Isabella, just tell us the code,” I said.
That’s the last thing I remember before a searing heat shot through my leg. My muscles seized with a nasty tingling as I realized she had rigged the box Callie’s ring was in, which was currently in my pocket. My body was the pathway the electric current pulsing through the little black box needed to make its escape. I remember hearing someone shout my name. I remember thinking with desperation that I had to get this case out of my pocket.
Then the world around me went silent.
Ned
I knew holding onto hate would kill me. I knew that I would never truly be free from all that Gina had done to me and those I loved unless I could forgive her. I knew that refusing to forgive hurt no one more than it hurt me.
I had my chance in the woods. I could have said those three words, “I forgive you,” but it would have been a lie.
I hated her. And as I rushed from the interrogation room to call Nancy, I swore that if Nancy died, I would never forgive Gina, and I would never regret refusing to forgive her. Not for a moment.
Especially not in this moment, when I was calling Nancy while rushing out to my car.
Come on. Pick up pick up pick up!
I rushed past the sleepy offices of the police station. At this hour, a lot of the lights were off and a lot of the staff was already at home. I did get some curious looks, but didn’t stop to explain as I burst through the front doors into the open air.
Then I decided that was a bad idea.
I rushed back inside and ran up to the first officer I could find.
I was still trying to call Nancy. She still wasn’t answering. I was hoping with everything in me that it wasn’t because Gina’s plush cardinal had exploded already.
“Gina is going to blow up my house with my wife inside!” was all I said, and all I had to say. The dark-skinned officer and his ginger partner leapt toward the doors and told me to come with them. As we loaded into the car, he communicated the situation over his walkie-talkie. By the time we were pulling out of the station, lights flashing and siren wailing, more officers were pouring out of the station.
Meanwhile, I was still calling Nancy.
“Come on, Nancy, please.”
Then she answered. I wasted no time with manners.
“Nancy, are you at home?” I said.
“Yes… why…” she answered.
“A bomb! No questions! Get out now, Nancy! The little cardinal in the house…”
Boom.
This chapter stressed me out so much. XD
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
Favorite cliffies ever hehehehehehehe... The skirmish isn't over yet.
Disclaimer I typed up for the HeR boards, haha: **Author's Note: Dear readers, I want to make sure something is clear here. Various movies and books have left the impression that when someone has DID, they have an "evil alter" who is out to steal, kill, and destroy. This has caused some people to be afraid of those who have DID. I want to be clear that this is not true. If you ever meet someone who has DID, you have no reason to be afraid of them.
In this story, Scaramuccia is an evil character. But the reason for this is Gina's brain created the personality it needed to protect it when a traumatizing situation hit. One of the theories as to why alters form as they do is that the brain finds itself in a situation that it cannot handle. It splits, creating a personality that it thinks can protect it. In Gina's case, someone ruthless was needed for the situation that caused Scaramuccia to split off. I won't say that this kind of situation could never happen in real life, but it is so unlikely that you should never be afraid of a person with DID as if it's only a matter of time before their evil alter emerges.
This is a misconception that people with DID have to deal with, and because I have a character like Scaramuccia in this story, I wanted to be clear and do what I could to not perpetuate that myth.
I have never experienced DID and don't know anyone personally who has. Hopefully I've been able to portray it accurately. But if not, please forgive this amateur writer and her crazy ambitions.
And remember: people with DID are not scary monsters!!!
Eloise - I feel bad that you aren't enjoying this as much as you had dreamed, haha... I am so close to writing up a ML of what I thought Cardinal was going to be. XD But it does mean a lot that for some reason you're still reading. XD
♥♥♥
~olivia~ |
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Post by ~oℓιⱱιa~ on Aug 15, 2019 15:02:42 GMT -5
Ned
The sun was too bright. The air was too clear. The grass was too green. The birds were too happy. It felt like the carefree world was mocking the funeral taking place in the midst of it.
I zoned out from my plastic folding chair as the pastor continued his speech. Maybe there was something poetic about a funeral on a cheery day. A reminder that death is a part of life, and that life goes on, and sometimes even flourishes, in the face of death.
But the pain right now was real. It was raw. And everything that tried to make the world seem like a happy place felt like salt in these open emotional wounds.
Well, almost everything. My attention was diverted from my annoyance at the beautiful weather when she grabbed my hand. Her touch was definitely a happy thing, and it brought my heart closer to healing.
I looked over at Nancy and took in her elegant strawberry blonde updo, her watery blue eyes, and her sad smile. It’ll be okay, Ned, she whispered to me with a look.
My heart swelled and I choked, overwhelmed with gratitude once again that she was even alive. After the police car had pulled up next to the fiery carnage of our house, Nancy and Hannah stumbled out from around the back. They had been in Hannah’s garden then the cardinal exploded. Nancy and Hannah received minor burns, but they were otherwise unharmed.
Once Hannah and Nancy were away from the burning building, I pulled Nancy into my arms.
“I swear I am never letting you go,” I told her.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” her muffled voice replied. “But you should know, I’m not the only one you’re holding.”
I pulled Nancy out at arm’s length so I could look her in the eye. “The little cardinal!”
Nancy smiled but cocked her head and blinked at me for a moment. “The one that blew up?”
I shook my head. “No, I mean, Cardinal… I mean… Nickerson…” I threw back my head and gave up. “A baby! We’re going to have a baby!”
She beamed at me. “You’re going to make an incredible dad.”
I didn’t really believe her. But I reached out to stroke her stomach and said, “At least Gina won’t ever be able to harm this little one.”
Nancy gave me a half-smile, then fell back into my arms and stared as the firefighters put out the last of the flames.
“I guess we’ll need to figure out a plan B for the nursery, huh?” she said.
“Yeah,” I answered, “and our bedroom. And the kitchen. And the living room. And the bathroom…”
“Ned, stop, this isn’t funny,” she said, laughing.
That was a week ago. Now Nancy sat by my side at Joe’s funeral, wearing a borrowed black dress. So many were here – people who loved Joe, people who knew Joe, people whose lives Joe had touched, changed, and even saved. All dressed in black.
Gina’s favorite color.
But Gina wasn’t here. She was in a prison in Italy, a country where the death penalty wasn’t an option. I guess I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I wanted to see justice served. But though I definitely didn’t like Gina, I no longer hated her.
As the week had gone by, it really sank in.
This wasn’t Gina’s fault. It was mine.
Maybe it sounds stupid. But if it weren’t for mistakes I had made, Gina might already have been in jail. Or at least off ruining someone else’s life. It was my fault.
My fault that Joe’s casket was being lowered into the earth. And there was nothing I could do. Death isn’t something you get a second chance for.
The weight of this responsibility numbed me. Nancy left my side for a moment to greet others who had come to bid Joe a final farewell. Staff members started tearing down chairs and canopies. But all I could do was stand there, and stare at the fresh scar in the earth that blanketed Joe.
I was startled from my staring when a stick smacked my ankle.
“Oh, sorry.”
It was Frank with his cane.
“Callie told me you were this direction.”
“She didn’t steer you wrong,” I responded.
“She never does,” he responded with a half-smile. It was a miracle that Frank was alive, the doctors had said. Isabella burst into tears when Frank started convulsing, but managed to communicate with Fenton that the electrocution was coming from the ring’s box. In a characteristic act of selflessness, Fenton grabbed the box and flung it from Frank’s body. Fenton had some minor burns, and Frank spent several days in the hospital. It seemed that no matter how hard Gina – or Scaramuccia, I guess – hit him, he wouldn’t stay down.
“Hey, uh, did anyone tell you about the gravestone we picked out for Joe?” he asked.
“No,” I responded, not sure why anyone would have reason to tell me about it.
“It’ll have all the normal things, of course, Joe’s name and birthday and when he died. But my parents also chose to have a verse from the Bible inscribed on it. Something Jesus said. ‘Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.’
“Joe…” He paused and swallowed. “Joe never knew that rest.” He had to choke out the last of his sentence, and for a moment we shared a silence while he fought for composure with shuddering breaths.
“But,” he finally managed, “you can, Ned. Jesus is offering it to you, too.”
Callie and Nancy walked up as he said that. In Nancy’s hands was a rose.
We all exchanged quiet greetings and farewells as Frank and Callie took off to find Fenton and Laura.
Once we were alone, Nancy stepped forward to Joe’s grave and left that single red rose on top of the flowers already piled there.
Amazing the memories a flower could trigger. Venice. Masks. Regret.
Rest. If only.
Then Nancy came to my side, sliding her fingers between mine, holding my hand, resting on my arm. I let out a shuddering sigh. She was going to tell me how ridiculous I was being and how I needed to stop living with these regrets. In the nicest way possible, of course.
I opened my mouth anyway. “Nancy, I… I’m sorry.” I couldn’t help it; against my will, my tears started to fall.
“What are you talking about?” she answered me.
“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault,” I answered, and before she could protest, I gave her my evidence, the list of reasons why it was my fault. Eleven of them.
“Back in Italy, I was powerless to save you. And then when I did have a chance, I wasn’t strong enough. I gave in to Sognitrico’s demands and even started liking them. I was a coward. I ran away. I lied to you, and I broke your trust. I caused innocent people to get hurt and played right into Sognitrico’s hands.
I paused and swallowed before stating the last one, as that painful memory of the first time I had told Nancy my tale of regrets came over me. “I broke your heart. And now this…”
We both stared at the grave in silence for a moment, until I finally completed my thought. “I’m sorry, Nancy. I’ll never be able to make up for this.”
Her response was immediate. “Ned, look at me,” she said. I complied. “I forgive you. In fact, it’s redundant for me to say that, because I forgave you for all of that a long time ago.”
I looked back at Joe’s grave as I felt my eyes welling up again. “Thank you, Nancy,” I spoke the words that were proper when a person offers their forgiveness. I clenched my jaw to hold back tears and worked through what it was I really wanted to say.
“Thank you. I know you mean it. I know you don’t hold anything I’ve done against me. But… I can never change this. I can never fix what I’ve messed up. I can never bring Joe back. I will never be able to pay a price high enough for what I’ve done. I’ll always have these regrets.”
Finally, Nancy understood. I could tell when all she did to respond was hold me tight and cry with me. That spoke to me more deeply in that moment than any words could have.
And when the time for words came, she was ready. “My champion, can I tell you something?”
Still she called me that. Still she believed in me. Could anything discourage this woman? Man, I loved her. But I still didn’t share her confidence.
With a shuddering breath, I replied, “Yeah.”
“You’re right, Ned. You could never pay a price high enough to make up for what you’ve done. And it would be stupid for you to even try. I love you, but you’re not perfect, you’ve messed up, and you can’t go back and fix it. You’re guilty.”
She paused. That wasn’t quite what I was expecting. But she was right. I felt like she wanted me to reply. “Yeah,” I said pathetically.
“Did you hear much of what the pastor said today?” she continued.
“Not really.”
“What he said… it really connected with me. And some things clicked for the first time, things that Frank and Fenton and Laura have been trying to tell us for a while.
“Ned, you’ve been trying to let go of these regrets. You’ve been trying to just get over them. But the things you’ve done don’t just go away, and the debt you owe for them can’t just go away.
“It cost nothing less than the life of God Himself. The price for everything you’ve done… it’s been paid. And now you have a choice.
“You can keep carrying your regrets and trying to make up for something that you can never take back and never fix. Or you can trust Jesus with them.
“But He won’t just take your regrets. It’s all or nothing. If you want Him to do away with your sin, then you have to give Him all of yourself. All the good, all the bad, everything you own, and everything you are. You have to choose to no longer live life your own way.
“But in exchange, Jesus gives you all that He is.”
She fell silent, and looked back at Joe’s grave.
“The preacher said all of that?” I asked, more to fill an awkward silence than anything.
She chuckled. “No, actually most of that was things Frank, Fenton, and Laura have been trying to tell us since we moved out here. The preacher today just helped everything make sense.”
Then she looked at me again, and I met her gaze. “You do have to make a choice, Ned. And I want you to know that no matter what you choose, I will still love you and stay by your side.
“But I want you to know that I’ve chosen Him. And I’m going to keep following Him, no matter what you decide.”
So the gauntlet was thrown, and I really did have a choice to make. But one thing was bothering me.
Come to Me, and I will give you rest.
“It just seems… too good to be true,” I confessed.
“Yeah, it does,” Nancy said. “And I’m so glad that it is true.”
With her words, my mind spun. How could she know? How could anyone be so sure?
I ran through what I could remember of conversations we had with the Hardys. I saw lives that had been changed – Frank’s, Callie’s, even Gina’s.
I rehearsed what I remembered of the Christians’ Gospel message, the promises it offered, and the cost it demanded. I compared it to what Nancy had just said. I even compared it to other things I’d heard and learned in life.
I will give you rest.
Every single time I’d seen someone turn to Jesus, I’d seen them given rest.
That moment my faith was born. I’d always thought faith in God was based on wishful thinking and hoping that it was true. But I realized that faith isn’t based on what someone thinks or hopes is true; it’s based on what someone knows is true.
“Nancy… you’re right.” The facts lead me to Christ and brought me to my knees.
“Oh God,” I cried out, with Nancy kneeling at my side, “God, take my regrets. Take my life. I’m done trying this on my own. Please, give me rest.”
For hours we sat by that grave, crying, praying, repenting. But before we left, I had encountered truth, reckoned with it, and realized that my slate was clean. My Lord had nailed the record of sins that was against me to the cross. I was His, and I was free.
When we realized that the sun was setting, we decided it was probably time to go. Even then, we tarried in a shared silence, watching the leaves and petals of the rose we had brought respond to the gentle wind.
“Let’s go home, Ned.”
By home, she meant the Hardy’s house. Hannah, Nancy, and I were staying there until we could get a new place of our own.
I smiled. “I think they’ll be excited to hear what happened today.”
We stood up and said goodbye to the grave, now crowned with a single red rose, and as we walked away, the poetry of the moment struck me.
At Joe’s grave I found God. At Joe’s grave, I found rest. And at Joe’s grave, I left behind eleven regrets and one flower.
And I wonder what You'll think when You're staring down at me...
I was super excited when I first figured out the last line of this chapter. Haha.
So, I'm planning to post the final chapter tomorrow. See you guys then!
Eloise - Haha, I'd be super interested to see what you wrote if you did make a remake of Cardinal! I'm curious, are you a fan of thrillers? Thanks as always for sticking with me. <3
♥♥♥
~olivia~
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KIDDING. 
Haha. And everyone wants to kill me even more now but I've come to terms with that. You can't trust me in this story. No one is safe. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
Ha, it almost sounds like you're telling Gina to run. XD I currently have nothing planned for 2023 but if I keep up with my current pattern then that's when my next big project will come out. XDXDXD "Squirrelizards must not have much fear." So wait... you ARE afraid of Trey??? O.o 
Ha. YES RESPECT NED. Hehe I can't wait for you to keep reading. Also your faithful commenting is putting me to shame, just for the record. 
But still, there were mornings when my eyes would open and I would flinch at the unexpected blackness, only to remember I would probably see nothing else as long as I lived.