"Application"

30. Artistic .30

Day 17 - Sunday

"This is Key Coalla. She will be in charge of your protection until further notice."

Callix indicated a tall woman who had entered the room only moments before.

She had glossy black hair that fell all the way to her mid-back, and although character descriptions had been completely disregarded up 'till this point, her hair was so fucking beautiful that it in itself deserved to have a whole ass story written about it.

The woman, Key, lifted one hand in a short wave, a cocky smile stretching over her face.

You narrowed your eyes. "I don't need any more protection." It was a true statement. Andy, or rather, her father had a small army stationed around the mansion. No serial killer would be getting in anytime soon.

Callix fixed you with his hard stare. "You are in no place to decide what you need. Key is a trained professional and a part of our team. She is much more qualified to guard you than any servant who is employed by the Selines."

"And what exactly were Andy Seline's thoughts on the matter?"

Callix whipped around to see Andy standing in the doorway. "Ms. Seline, I--"

"You know damn well I'd never agree to something like this." She glared at Callix.

"But we both kn--"

Callix was once again rudely interrupted, but this time by Key Coalla herself. "If I may speak up, there seems to be something that you're overlooking, Ms. Seline." She radiated a calm arrogance that didn't go unnoticed by the girl she was addressing.

Andy's face began to tint red with anger. "And what, dare I ask, am I overlooking?"

Key smirked, striding over to where Andy stood. "Lone Survivor isn't just any killer," she stopped right beside your friend and tilted her head downwards to accommodate for the height difference between the two of them. You couldn't hear what it was that Key said exactly, but what you could make out was the immediate paling of Andy's face.

Andy's eyes locked with yours, before immediately flitting away.

"If I let you be her guard, you better fucking keep her safe."

___

"It seems to me like we'll be spending a lot of time together from now on, Ms. Y/n." Key drawled lazily as she leaned backwards onto Andy's bed.

Andy and Callix had left to discuss the investigation, leaving you alone to properly meet your new 'bodyguard'.

"I guess."

Key laid herself out over the covers, head propped up in her hands as she gazed at you quizzically from beneath her lashes. "You guess?"

You shrugged and went into Andy's bathroom to look for her makeup supplies. The last week had gotten pretty boring, so you'd found certain ways to entertain yourself.

...certain ways such as drawing on the bathroom mirrors with Andy's lipstick.

You didn't even hear Key come in, but before you knew it, she was leaning against the wall and watching you color the mirrors with your unending artistic talent.

You were just drawing the first things that came to your mind at that point.

Andy burning at the stake, Andy falling off a cliff, Andy drowning in a lake, you know, normal things like that.

Occasionally, you would hear a soft laugh from Key's end, but other than that, she didn't bother you.

Unlike Andy, at least she knew how to leave you alone.

___

Heroiknight: this marks the one-week anniversary of Steps' inactivity

Heroiknight: we'll be holding a candlelight service tonight to mourn her if anyone is interested

YouKillMyFather: Who tf is we?

Heroiknight: me and my gradually slipping sanity

YouKillMyFather: Good luck with that I guess?

'Candyc0unter' has logged on

Candyc0unter: I will attend the service!

Candyc0unter: Maybe we can bring Steps back to us through sheer will! ヽ(｀◇')/

Heroiknight: yeah!!

'Jordan.Anders' has logged on

Heroiknight: this is the first time you've logged on all day Jorda! :0

Jordan.Anders: I'm afraid I won't be very active for the coming week.

Jordan.Anders: That is all.

'Jordan.Anders' has logged off

Heroiknight: ?

Candyc0unter: Do you think something bad happened to him? (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Heroiknight: i hope not :(((

___

A boy in all black stepped into a cold, sterilized room.

He bowed his head to see the face of the patient that lay before him.

The older woman's eyes were sealed shut; no sign of life was present in any place but the heart monitor that steadily beeped beside her.

The boy's jaw tightened, his hands gently caressing the rim of the bed.

"Abby is dead," he whispered, "Father is dead too."

The boy waited a moment in silence, wishing that the woman would show any sign of a reaction,

anything at all to ease the fear that was festering within him.

But he was given nothing, and his body slumped over in defeat.

"Please forgive me, Mother."