Penelope is in the ICU and in critical condition. All that can save her now is....Dr. Rachel Hurst, but her pager must have run out of batteries or something because she's not here and Penelope is DYING!!!
"paging Dr. Hurst......paging Dr. Hurst, you're wanted in ICU"
Friday, December 19, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Chapter Five: Pieces, together.
As Rick left the apartment and let the door swing closed behind him, he heard the old bag from the apartment down the hall asking something about a gash in the wall. The way she had looked at him when he came up the stairs, he did not doubt that she might even accuse him of somehow being involved although he felt sure she did not see him in the building a week ago. That was when Asher had thrown him out of the apartment after the argument that ultimately brought him back here today. He was sick of that name. Asher. The man was not even close to what everyone thought. Not even Penelope had a clue as to the reality of who he was. The thought bothered him as he descended the stairs and began to imagine the poor girl above him. For a brief moment he paused, considered going back, wanting desperately to tell her everything but knowing that would ultimately doom him. He satisfied himself with envisioning her walking slowly back to the center of her apartment, already falling apart. He could see the anguish behind her eyes, though she hid it well. He imagined her switching the television on, hoping to catch some news about Asher. Hoping to find some answers, some hope, anything. In his mind, he heard the news broadcaster say with a perfectly succinct delivery.
“Former Governor Asher Cole was found dead today…”
He knew she would be falling into the red couch right now, tears already forming. She should not be so alone right now. That was one of the worst things about times like these. He felt bad for her, even if it was his fault.
He left the apartment building and walked to the corner of the block to hail a cab. That was when the real guilt began to set in. He reflected back on the time since he left the force in LA. Things had seemed to make sense back then. His life had turned into a seedy pool of violence and manipulation since. His heart hated what he had become. How did he get so entangled? He managed to hail a cab after a few halfhearted attempts had left him with no response from the yellow cars speeding past and he slid into the back seat.
“Corner of Dudley and south 6th” he said to the driver, already ignoring the man.
The scruffy fellow from the front seat said something like, “Sure, be there in 10.”
Hatchett slouched down into the seat to reflect on his role in the last week, the vinyl squeaking as he slid into it. As he considered his options again, he knew he had no choice, but it still nagged him. He always had this suspicion that there was more going on and, though he would not find out for some time, he was right.
Without realizing it, the 10 minutes passed and the cab turned down the dirty and neglected Dudley Street. The rows of aging apartment buildings loomed over the narrow road like robed judges ready to bring down the hammer. The dark clouds in the sky threatened more rain later, although it was getting cold enough that it might be more than rain this time. As he stumbled out of the car, he stuffed his hands into his pocket and drew out some cash for the driver without bothering to count it. He knew by the driver’s response that it was far more than the trip should have cost but he could not manage a care. As he stepped away from the car and it sped off, probably so he did not have time to change his mind about the generous tip he just gave, he pulled his coat up around his neck, tugged his beanie down fully over his ears, and trudged down the street towards number 215. Through the door and up three flights of stairs had him staring at the door to apartment number 306. He paused and exhaled before putting the key into the lock, his broad shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. After a moment, he gathered himself up, turned the handle and went inside.
“What took you so long” asked a deep baritone voice from the flickering darkness, just a hint of annoyance spiced with a noticeable amount of animosity. “That should have been a quick in and out thing.” A small, muted television set on a wobbly looking end table cast sickly shadows across the small room and the features of the man behind the voice.
“There were…interruptions…I think she was hit harder than you anticipated.” Rick desperately wanted to scream but suppressed the useless feeling.
“Nonsense, she was involved only to the point where it would cause her to be hurt, but still predictable.”
“I don’t know man, she seemed pretty upset.” Rick responded while pulling open the door to the refrigerator, hunting for a beer. Blue Moon…it was just like this guy to have wheat beer to face the coming onslaught of winter. “I think she may fold up for a few days. It’s going to set you back a bit”
“I didn’t ask for your thoughts, so you can keep your mouth shut. As long as you said everything I instructed you to say, things will be fine”
“If you say so man.” he paused; then added, “We are done now, you know. I’ve had enough of this,” stated Rick, trying to sound absolute, authoritative. Knowing as he said it what the response would be.
“You’re done when I say so. Don’t forget who got you out Seattle when your deal went bad. You do your job just as I do mine. That will keep the unpleasant people from knocking on our door.” The voice never missed an opportunity to assert his authority over Rick like a king. Rick suspected that that small action helped the man cope with his lowly status being almost as unimportant as Rick’s.
“Fine, but I’m just tired of using her like that. She doesn’t deserve it, you know? She just doesn’t deserve it,” Rick said, thinking briefly of his former captain, the late, great Edison Baker. What would he have to say about how Rick was now involved with destroying his only daughter? His spine tingled at that. How things could change in just a few short months. Most people in LA probably did not even know he had quit. What would they think if they knew the truth of what he was into now?
“I know how you feel about her and her father, that’s why you were chosen.” The voice said, erupting into a fit of cruel laughter. “You should just remember why she can never know…or do you want to see what happens if you tell her the truth?” There it was, from laughter to cold dead animosity in one instant, how could anyone change like that, Rick wondered. He decided to change the subject.
“Shiloh called her while I was there” Rick said, even though he was only partially sure it was true. The voice shifted at that and might as well have fallen out of his chair. The man was not expecting that and Rick knew that would cause the fool to worry. Good. “She is using Pen, just like you are.” Of that, Rick was certain.
“I will take care of that one soon enough” responded the voice, not as sure now as before. A flicker of light briefly illuminated the hawkish face of the voice as a cigarette was lit and a long, deep, drag was pulled in. Did Rick just hear a slight tremble in that deep voice? An interesting thought occurred to Rick although he filed it away until he had a chance to think more about it later. Maybe he had a way out after all.
“You can go about your own business for a few days, I’ll contact you when I’m ready to move again” the voice said, “Don’t make contact with her until I give you the word” he finished, dismissing Rick without another thought.
“OK man, you take it easy and keep your head down or all my work will be completely wasted,” Rick reminded the voice as he moved towards the door.
Suddenly, Rick felt a surge of anger rise from somewhere deep that he had been so successful at repressing of late. “She still loves you, you know…its sick, really.” Rick said with disgust. “Did you hear me?!” He almost yelled, his emotions getting the better of him. “Asher, she still thinks she loves you!”
The man the world was just now beginning to think was dead responded with a quiet, chilling voice. “That was the point.” The self satisfied smirk evident in the way the words were delivered.
As Rick left he heard the volume on the muted TV come back to life and heard the broadcaster telling the world “Former Governor Asher Cole was found dead today...”
Rick nearly threw up as he slammed the door behind him.
“Former Governor Asher Cole was found dead today…”
He knew she would be falling into the red couch right now, tears already forming. She should not be so alone right now. That was one of the worst things about times like these. He felt bad for her, even if it was his fault.
He left the apartment building and walked to the corner of the block to hail a cab. That was when the real guilt began to set in. He reflected back on the time since he left the force in LA. Things had seemed to make sense back then. His life had turned into a seedy pool of violence and manipulation since. His heart hated what he had become. How did he get so entangled? He managed to hail a cab after a few halfhearted attempts had left him with no response from the yellow cars speeding past and he slid into the back seat.
“Corner of Dudley and south 6th” he said to the driver, already ignoring the man.
The scruffy fellow from the front seat said something like, “Sure, be there in 10.”
Hatchett slouched down into the seat to reflect on his role in the last week, the vinyl squeaking as he slid into it. As he considered his options again, he knew he had no choice, but it still nagged him. He always had this suspicion that there was more going on and, though he would not find out for some time, he was right.
Without realizing it, the 10 minutes passed and the cab turned down the dirty and neglected Dudley Street. The rows of aging apartment buildings loomed over the narrow road like robed judges ready to bring down the hammer. The dark clouds in the sky threatened more rain later, although it was getting cold enough that it might be more than rain this time. As he stumbled out of the car, he stuffed his hands into his pocket and drew out some cash for the driver without bothering to count it. He knew by the driver’s response that it was far more than the trip should have cost but he could not manage a care. As he stepped away from the car and it sped off, probably so he did not have time to change his mind about the generous tip he just gave, he pulled his coat up around his neck, tugged his beanie down fully over his ears, and trudged down the street towards number 215. Through the door and up three flights of stairs had him staring at the door to apartment number 306. He paused and exhaled before putting the key into the lock, his broad shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. After a moment, he gathered himself up, turned the handle and went inside.
“What took you so long” asked a deep baritone voice from the flickering darkness, just a hint of annoyance spiced with a noticeable amount of animosity. “That should have been a quick in and out thing.” A small, muted television set on a wobbly looking end table cast sickly shadows across the small room and the features of the man behind the voice.
“There were…interruptions…I think she was hit harder than you anticipated.” Rick desperately wanted to scream but suppressed the useless feeling.
“Nonsense, she was involved only to the point where it would cause her to be hurt, but still predictable.”
“I don’t know man, she seemed pretty upset.” Rick responded while pulling open the door to the refrigerator, hunting for a beer. Blue Moon…it was just like this guy to have wheat beer to face the coming onslaught of winter. “I think she may fold up for a few days. It’s going to set you back a bit”
“I didn’t ask for your thoughts, so you can keep your mouth shut. As long as you said everything I instructed you to say, things will be fine”
“If you say so man.” he paused; then added, “We are done now, you know. I’ve had enough of this,” stated Rick, trying to sound absolute, authoritative. Knowing as he said it what the response would be.
“You’re done when I say so. Don’t forget who got you out Seattle when your deal went bad. You do your job just as I do mine. That will keep the unpleasant people from knocking on our door.” The voice never missed an opportunity to assert his authority over Rick like a king. Rick suspected that that small action helped the man cope with his lowly status being almost as unimportant as Rick’s.
“Fine, but I’m just tired of using her like that. She doesn’t deserve it, you know? She just doesn’t deserve it,” Rick said, thinking briefly of his former captain, the late, great Edison Baker. What would he have to say about how Rick was now involved with destroying his only daughter? His spine tingled at that. How things could change in just a few short months. Most people in LA probably did not even know he had quit. What would they think if they knew the truth of what he was into now?
“I know how you feel about her and her father, that’s why you were chosen.” The voice said, erupting into a fit of cruel laughter. “You should just remember why she can never know…or do you want to see what happens if you tell her the truth?” There it was, from laughter to cold dead animosity in one instant, how could anyone change like that, Rick wondered. He decided to change the subject.
“Shiloh called her while I was there” Rick said, even though he was only partially sure it was true. The voice shifted at that and might as well have fallen out of his chair. The man was not expecting that and Rick knew that would cause the fool to worry. Good. “She is using Pen, just like you are.” Of that, Rick was certain.
“I will take care of that one soon enough” responded the voice, not as sure now as before. A flicker of light briefly illuminated the hawkish face of the voice as a cigarette was lit and a long, deep, drag was pulled in. Did Rick just hear a slight tremble in that deep voice? An interesting thought occurred to Rick although he filed it away until he had a chance to think more about it later. Maybe he had a way out after all.
“You can go about your own business for a few days, I’ll contact you when I’m ready to move again” the voice said, “Don’t make contact with her until I give you the word” he finished, dismissing Rick without another thought.
“OK man, you take it easy and keep your head down or all my work will be completely wasted,” Rick reminded the voice as he moved towards the door.
Suddenly, Rick felt a surge of anger rise from somewhere deep that he had been so successful at repressing of late. “She still loves you, you know…its sick, really.” Rick said with disgust. “Did you hear me?!” He almost yelled, his emotions getting the better of him. “Asher, she still thinks she loves you!”
The man the world was just now beginning to think was dead responded with a quiet, chilling voice. “That was the point.” The self satisfied smirk evident in the way the words were delivered.
As Rick left he heard the volume on the muted TV come back to life and heard the broadcaster telling the world “Former Governor Asher Cole was found dead today...”
Rick nearly threw up as he slammed the door behind him.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Chapter Four: Just a wrong number...
The hoagie and chips on the counter had smelled good until Hatchet had showed up and churned her senses. The hunger had left her stomach now, replaced by a yearning for someone. At first, she took for granted that the knot she felt was for Asher, but as she eyed the lone photograph on the refrigerator door she realized it was the only person left that she cared about, and the only person left she could save.
Lonely, cold, and blonde Penelope had stumbled off the train at the 30th street station in an unforgiving mood, in an unforgiving city. She felt abandoned, as though the life she dreamed of had just been stripped from her grip. The reflection of the slums on the puddles surrounding her lifted her spirits nowhere, and seemed all too familiar. Beyond the turned over trashcans a sweet but scraggly tenacious looking girl who couldn't have been more than 18 was leaning against a rusty train schedule sign taking a long drag of her cigarette when they caught each others eye. Shiloh had been waiting for someone like Penelope, and Penelope had needed someone like Shiloh. "Girl, you've got to do something about that hair.", Shiloh voiced in a raspy confident tone, "Blonde just isn't your color." Penelope let a smirk relax her. "You look like you need a place to stay, and I need somebody who needs a place to stay. Hi, I'm Shiloh. What's your name?"
Shiloh was walking past the playground outside of her apartment when she noticed the unfamiliar car sitting at the curb. This wasn't the type of neighborhood that often had visitors, and having a roommate like Penelope she constantly questioned anything she didn't recognize. She decided to call Pen to make sure everything was okay.
Waiting on Asher's call still had Penelope's ears tuned to the phone. As soon as it rang she opened it without even a thought.
"Hello, this is Penelope."
"Pen, it's Shiloh. Everything alright?"
"NO. I mean, uhh no no, you must have the wrong number. That's fine, I just like my privacy." she spoke sternly into the phone hoping that her friend would read between the lines.
She slammed the phone shut and threw it on the counter hoping to sell the act she had just given Hatchet. His look had turned from one of relief for having found her, to one of concern and doubt from the call. He asked, "What was that all ab...."
"Nothing, it was nothing. Just a wrong number. Look, I need you to go now. Things are just weird right now. Why don't you call again tomorrow when I've had a chance to figure some things out. Something just isn't right."
"I understand. I know Asher was important to you, but don't let your past here keep you on edge. No one remembers what happened two years ago. You got lucky that they didn't tie you to that lawyers murder. He was a scumbag that just wanted your money anyways. I think we can tell by the look of this place that you wish you had your money too."
"Screw you Rick. I didn't have anything to do with that. I still think those called to 'serve and protect' did exactly that, they served their wallets and protected themselves. I'm going to get my money back, and I don't need your help. I told you that in Los Angeles three months ago! If you hang around any longer, who knows I might start thinking you had something to do with Asher. So just go away for now and let me figure some of this stuff out. I'll call you."
He thought he was so close, but despite 'removing' Asher from the equation he realized that someone still had her questioning things. Who the hell had she been talking to besides Asher?!?! He had no problem leaving now, but he'd be back. Heck, he was there just the week before.
Pen walked Hatchet to the door. And as she watched him walk down the hall to the dark creaky stairwell at the end, Dora, the landlady, walked up to her and asked what she was planning to do about the gash her friend that had just left put in the wall the week before. "What gash?" Penelope asked just as she remembered the dried glue that had been used to fill it. It took her a moment to realize the rest of what Dora had said. 'Hatchet had been here a week ago???' she questioned to herself. How much longer had he been here? What had he seen? Shiloh? Asher?
The last time she had seen Asher was when he left to go home during the storm...a week ago....
Lonely, cold, and blonde Penelope had stumbled off the train at the 30th street station in an unforgiving mood, in an unforgiving city. She felt abandoned, as though the life she dreamed of had just been stripped from her grip. The reflection of the slums on the puddles surrounding her lifted her spirits nowhere, and seemed all too familiar. Beyond the turned over trashcans a sweet but scraggly tenacious looking girl who couldn't have been more than 18 was leaning against a rusty train schedule sign taking a long drag of her cigarette when they caught each others eye. Shiloh had been waiting for someone like Penelope, and Penelope had needed someone like Shiloh. "Girl, you've got to do something about that hair.", Shiloh voiced in a raspy confident tone, "Blonde just isn't your color." Penelope let a smirk relax her. "You look like you need a place to stay, and I need somebody who needs a place to stay. Hi, I'm Shiloh. What's your name?"
Shiloh was walking past the playground outside of her apartment when she noticed the unfamiliar car sitting at the curb. This wasn't the type of neighborhood that often had visitors, and having a roommate like Penelope she constantly questioned anything she didn't recognize. She decided to call Pen to make sure everything was okay.
Waiting on Asher's call still had Penelope's ears tuned to the phone. As soon as it rang she opened it without even a thought.
"Hello, this is Penelope."
"Pen, it's Shiloh. Everything alright?"
"NO. I mean, uhh no no, you must have the wrong number. That's fine, I just like my privacy." she spoke sternly into the phone hoping that her friend would read between the lines.
She slammed the phone shut and threw it on the counter hoping to sell the act she had just given Hatchet. His look had turned from one of relief for having found her, to one of concern and doubt from the call. He asked, "What was that all ab...."
"Nothing, it was nothing. Just a wrong number. Look, I need you to go now. Things are just weird right now. Why don't you call again tomorrow when I've had a chance to figure some things out. Something just isn't right."
"I understand. I know Asher was important to you, but don't let your past here keep you on edge. No one remembers what happened two years ago. You got lucky that they didn't tie you to that lawyers murder. He was a scumbag that just wanted your money anyways. I think we can tell by the look of this place that you wish you had your money too."
"Screw you Rick. I didn't have anything to do with that. I still think those called to 'serve and protect' did exactly that, they served their wallets and protected themselves. I'm going to get my money back, and I don't need your help. I told you that in Los Angeles three months ago! If you hang around any longer, who knows I might start thinking you had something to do with Asher. So just go away for now and let me figure some of this stuff out. I'll call you."
He thought he was so close, but despite 'removing' Asher from the equation he realized that someone still had her questioning things. Who the hell had she been talking to besides Asher?!?! He had no problem leaving now, but he'd be back. Heck, he was there just the week before.
Pen walked Hatchet to the door. And as she watched him walk down the hall to the dark creaky stairwell at the end, Dora, the landlady, walked up to her and asked what she was planning to do about the gash her friend that had just left put in the wall the week before. "What gash?" Penelope asked just as she remembered the dried glue that had been used to fill it. It took her a moment to realize the rest of what Dora had said. 'Hatchet had been here a week ago???' she questioned to herself. How much longer had he been here? What had he seen? Shiloh? Asher?
The last time she had seen Asher was when he left to go home during the storm...a week ago....
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Chapter Three: Again
Sliding her blue eye-shadowed lids down over her eyes, Penelope stood still just for a moment: could this seriously be happening again? AGAIN? Her pink razr phone laid open in her right palm, the little green symbol showing that she was on a call was still displayed in the right hand corner. Her eyes slid back open and she glanced slowly to the left at the small gleam of light peering underneath her paint-peeling apartment door. Drawing in a quick, shaky breath, Penelope’s eyes stayed locked on the image of the two feet on the other side of the door that were spreading a shadow across the yellowed laminate entryway. Her breath was quickening with each second that ticked by.
Knowing that her present phone call was now irrelevant, Penelope willed herself to use both hands to methodically close up her phone. She couldn’t help but pause a moment as the image of her and Shiloh, her only friend here in Philadelphia, glowed brightly on the face of her phone and then faded as she held down on the power button. Even the phone call from Asher that she’d been waiting for couldn’t interrupt this next conversation. Tossing the phone into the basket of blankets that she kept next to the sofa, Penelope turned on her purple Converse heel, faced the two shadows that had not moved a millimeter, pursed her lips into a tight line, took in a deep slow breath, and walked confidently towards the door.
She grabbed the dented brass colored handle of the door and pulled up to free it from catching as she slid the deadbolt back as well as the latch-lock above it. Letting the door drop back down into place, her shaking fingers slid the chain lock to the left and pulled it from its catch. No longer pausing out of indecision, she grabbed the door handle and jerked the door open.
She hadn’t expected him to have changed.
She hadn’t expected him to be out of uniform or unshaven.
She hadn’t expected his hair to be black.
She hadn’t expected the slight smirk on his face reaching up to meet the slightly reddened scar on his right cheek. After all, this was supposed to be her game, her play, her chance to call the shots. But then again, he was the one that found her. Penelope allowed a slight smirk to inch up her right cheek and meet her own slowly healing red scar.
Keeping her eyes on Hatchet’s hands buried deep in his jeans pockets, she let her body fall and lean against the door frame and allowed her fingers to toy with the tarnished silver bracelet she still wore on her right wrist. He was the one that wanted to talk, so… let him talk.
“Well, Pen… it’s been a while,” Hatchet acknowledged as he strode past her into her living room and took a seat at the little card table she’d been using in her breakfast nook. Penelope kept her eyes focused on the sheetrock in the hallway, where just yesterday there had been a rather obvious gash just above the chair rail line. It appeared that someone had tried to fill it in with Elmer’s glue. Probably one of the kids playing tag downstairs on the playground. Funny that the mind of an eight year old truly conceives that simply filling a huge hole with glue might keep the whole world from noticing the imperfection. Penelope leaned across the hall and with her partially blue fingernail, picked out the strip of dried glue from the gash, and threw the chunk on the ground.
She turned around again, and sauntered into her apartment, instantly unable to avoid meeting Hatchet’s eyes as she rounded the corner to her kitchen. Out of habit, she rolled her eyes and blew a puff of air out of her mouth as she went to the fridge and got out her half filled bottle of water. Taking a long draught, she could feel his eyes boring into her as he patiently waited for her to acknowledge that he was there. Rather than delay the unavoidable, Penelope finally looked him straight in the eye across the counter and replied:
“Yes. Yes, Rick. It’s been a while. And rather than catch up on pleasantries, why don’t we just get down to business so that you can go do super important work saving lives and whatnot and I can continue picking the three month old polish off of my fingernails?”
Hatchet paused for a second, his eyes lingering on her nails, chuckled and replied, “Yep – I knew that you wouldn’t have changed. That was for sure. But, since your nails apparently need quite a bit of work, I’ll do my best to be quick and thorough.” His gaze shifted up to her face and the cocky expression melted off and was replaced by a look of compassion:
“Pen… Asher isn’t going to call. He’s never going to call you again, actually…”
The rest of Hatchet’s words started to just blend together as Penelope tried to focus her eyes on his lips so that perhaps her mind could keep up with what he was saying, but it was no use. She had done it again. She had killed someone else. Well, she hadn’t really killed Asher herself, of course, but it was no matter. She might has well have pulled the trigger, might as well ahve thrown his body in the Delaware, and might as well have walked away without remorse. Oh, but she did feel remorse. She had used Asher knowing that there would be more risk for him than for her, and now she was to blame for his death. Asher. Chace. Sean. Jonathan. Their faces floated in front of her mind as she started to inadvertently tune back into what Hatchet was saying…
“and I’m being serious. You should just get out of here. You haven’t interacted with anyone except for Asher, so nothing will pop up on the grid. I won’t even report that I found you. I’ll just go back to LA and fake like it was a dead end here. It’ll be easy. Okay, Pen? Hey… Penelope?!?!”
Penelope’s eyes snatched up to meet his. Her light brown eyes glowing a bright amber, “Yeah, sure Rick. Sure. I’ll just get out of here. I’ll just pack up and go. Done it before. Heck, I’ve done it so many times I can’t even count. But it’s not a dead end Rick. Philadelphia is exactly where all of this started and I’m not leaving until I get everything worked out. Whatever, Rick. Did you really think that I’d just bail and move off to Albuquerque or something? And for your everlovin information, Asher is not the only person that I’ve… what did you call it… ‘interacted’ with here. So, it’s not a dead end. It’s not an easy tie off.” Penelope grabbed at her water bottle and twisted herself around facing the fridge again.
She had to get Shiloh out before they both met the same fate as Asher.
Knowing that her present phone call was now irrelevant, Penelope willed herself to use both hands to methodically close up her phone. She couldn’t help but pause a moment as the image of her and Shiloh, her only friend here in Philadelphia, glowed brightly on the face of her phone and then faded as she held down on the power button. Even the phone call from Asher that she’d been waiting for couldn’t interrupt this next conversation. Tossing the phone into the basket of blankets that she kept next to the sofa, Penelope turned on her purple Converse heel, faced the two shadows that had not moved a millimeter, pursed her lips into a tight line, took in a deep slow breath, and walked confidently towards the door.
She grabbed the dented brass colored handle of the door and pulled up to free it from catching as she slid the deadbolt back as well as the latch-lock above it. Letting the door drop back down into place, her shaking fingers slid the chain lock to the left and pulled it from its catch. No longer pausing out of indecision, she grabbed the door handle and jerked the door open.
She hadn’t expected him to have changed.
She hadn’t expected him to be out of uniform or unshaven.
She hadn’t expected his hair to be black.
She hadn’t expected the slight smirk on his face reaching up to meet the slightly reddened scar on his right cheek. After all, this was supposed to be her game, her play, her chance to call the shots. But then again, he was the one that found her. Penelope allowed a slight smirk to inch up her right cheek and meet her own slowly healing red scar.
Keeping her eyes on Hatchet’s hands buried deep in his jeans pockets, she let her body fall and lean against the door frame and allowed her fingers to toy with the tarnished silver bracelet she still wore on her right wrist. He was the one that wanted to talk, so… let him talk.
“Well, Pen… it’s been a while,” Hatchet acknowledged as he strode past her into her living room and took a seat at the little card table she’d been using in her breakfast nook. Penelope kept her eyes focused on the sheetrock in the hallway, where just yesterday there had been a rather obvious gash just above the chair rail line. It appeared that someone had tried to fill it in with Elmer’s glue. Probably one of the kids playing tag downstairs on the playground. Funny that the mind of an eight year old truly conceives that simply filling a huge hole with glue might keep the whole world from noticing the imperfection. Penelope leaned across the hall and with her partially blue fingernail, picked out the strip of dried glue from the gash, and threw the chunk on the ground.
She turned around again, and sauntered into her apartment, instantly unable to avoid meeting Hatchet’s eyes as she rounded the corner to her kitchen. Out of habit, she rolled her eyes and blew a puff of air out of her mouth as she went to the fridge and got out her half filled bottle of water. Taking a long draught, she could feel his eyes boring into her as he patiently waited for her to acknowledge that he was there. Rather than delay the unavoidable, Penelope finally looked him straight in the eye across the counter and replied:
“Yes. Yes, Rick. It’s been a while. And rather than catch up on pleasantries, why don’t we just get down to business so that you can go do super important work saving lives and whatnot and I can continue picking the three month old polish off of my fingernails?”
Hatchet paused for a second, his eyes lingering on her nails, chuckled and replied, “Yep – I knew that you wouldn’t have changed. That was for sure. But, since your nails apparently need quite a bit of work, I’ll do my best to be quick and thorough.” His gaze shifted up to her face and the cocky expression melted off and was replaced by a look of compassion:
“Pen… Asher isn’t going to call. He’s never going to call you again, actually…”
The rest of Hatchet’s words started to just blend together as Penelope tried to focus her eyes on his lips so that perhaps her mind could keep up with what he was saying, but it was no use. She had done it again. She had killed someone else. Well, she hadn’t really killed Asher herself, of course, but it was no matter. She might has well have pulled the trigger, might as well ahve thrown his body in the Delaware, and might as well have walked away without remorse. Oh, but she did feel remorse. She had used Asher knowing that there would be more risk for him than for her, and now she was to blame for his death. Asher. Chace. Sean. Jonathan. Their faces floated in front of her mind as she started to inadvertently tune back into what Hatchet was saying…
“and I’m being serious. You should just get out of here. You haven’t interacted with anyone except for Asher, so nothing will pop up on the grid. I won’t even report that I found you. I’ll just go back to LA and fake like it was a dead end here. It’ll be easy. Okay, Pen? Hey… Penelope?!?!”
Penelope’s eyes snatched up to meet his. Her light brown eyes glowing a bright amber, “Yeah, sure Rick. Sure. I’ll just get out of here. I’ll just pack up and go. Done it before. Heck, I’ve done it so many times I can’t even count. But it’s not a dead end Rick. Philadelphia is exactly where all of this started and I’m not leaving until I get everything worked out. Whatever, Rick. Did you really think that I’d just bail and move off to Albuquerque or something? And for your everlovin information, Asher is not the only person that I’ve… what did you call it… ‘interacted’ with here. So, it’s not a dead end. It’s not an easy tie off.” Penelope grabbed at her water bottle and twisted herself around facing the fridge again.
She had to get Shiloh out before they both met the same fate as Asher.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Chapter Two: A Knock At The Door
At first she heard nothing on the other end. “Hello! You have been selected to win a free trip to Hawaii! Follow these simple instructions to claim your prize! Go to www…” She angrily slammed the phone closed. “Damn sales calls,” she thought to herself. However, for a split second she was thankful for a little break from the pressure of waiting.
As soon as she put the phone back on the table, it rang again. This time she knew it was the call she had been anticipating. She picked it up and in her most steady voice said, “Hello, this is Penelope.”
“Penelope, this is Office Hatchet from the LAPD. It’s been a while since we saw each other. May I have a word with you sometime today? And I want to speak with you in person.” Officer Rick Hatchet had been trying for months to catch up with Penelope. The last time she had an interaction with him was in Miami. She was with her boy friend at the time, Sean. Sean was long gone by now. Penelope thought that she had out-foxed Officer Hatchet again, but it looked like she was wrong.
“Umm…sure. Where do you want to meet?” Penelope asked, her mind racing through the most public meeting area in Los Angeles. “How about your apartment?” was the reply on the other end. Penelope’s blood froze and her breath caught in her lungs. How did he know where she was? Her eyes darted over to the duffle bag by the door that she kept packed. Incase of moments just like this one. Moments that she had come to know all to well.
Just as she was about to hang up on Office Hatchet, there was a knock at the door.
As soon as she put the phone back on the table, it rang again. This time she knew it was the call she had been anticipating. She picked it up and in her most steady voice said, “Hello, this is Penelope.”
“Penelope, this is Office Hatchet from the LAPD. It’s been a while since we saw each other. May I have a word with you sometime today? And I want to speak with you in person.” Officer Rick Hatchet had been trying for months to catch up with Penelope. The last time she had an interaction with him was in Miami. She was with her boy friend at the time, Sean. Sean was long gone by now. Penelope thought that she had out-foxed Officer Hatchet again, but it looked like she was wrong.
“Umm…sure. Where do you want to meet?” Penelope asked, her mind racing through the most public meeting area in Los Angeles. “How about your apartment?” was the reply on the other end. Penelope’s blood froze and her breath caught in her lungs. How did he know where she was? Her eyes darted over to the duffle bag by the door that she kept packed. Incase of moments just like this one. Moments that she had come to know all to well.
Just as she was about to hang up on Office Hatchet, there was a knock at the door.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Chapter One: Hello
It is quiet, finally, and she has a few moments to think. It has finally started cooling off outside, the first real cold front of the fall came through last night. The storm was swift and severe. She remembered laying there, listening to the thunder and rain tapping on the windows of the bedroom, wondering if there was going to be any hail. That was the last thing she remembered from that night; a truly fitting finish to a very tumultuous day. She looked around at the small apartment she had been living in for the last two months. It was much smaller than the other places currently listed on various documents under her name, but it was also, currently, her favorite. She preferred small places. They seemed easier to decorate and felt more like home. There was one bedroom and a study along with the kitchen and breakfast nook. It was new and modern and she felt very sophistacated here. There were plenty of windows and two of them, just past the kitchen, looked out over a small playground. Outside there were several small children playing some sort of chase game. Or possibly, it was the beginning of a fight. She hoped it was the former though, as she turned away to look at the phone on the table in front of the couch. The call should have come already. What was taking so long? She sat down on the soft red couch and looked through a couple of magazines that she had gotten from a friend with little interest. It was difficult to focus on such things with what had been happening over the last week. She grabbed a brush from the drawer in the end table to her left to pass the time. Her hair was longer now than ever before and black for the third time. She thought briefly about dying it again. Maybe something lighter this time. It had been awhile.
Again she looked down at the phone, sitting there, cold, not giving away any of the information for which she longed to hear. She looked at the car keys and the blue purse next to it and thought about cleaning it out. It was becoming very cluttered, lately. So many receipts and gum wrappers. It was not worth fooling with so she let the thought pass. It seemed unimportant to think about such things but she had to keep reminding herself that these distractions kept her from thinking about what happened, and why she was sitting here, glancing at the clock over the fireplace every few minutes, in spite of herself. Suddenly a panicked thought came over her.
“It’s not on!” she said aloud, exasperated, even afraid.
In the same instant, she reached for the phone; her hand inches away when suddenly it rang, and caused her to jump up so suddenly that she banged her shin on the low table. The flash of pain it caused was overcome by the chill that ran down her spine at the sight of the ringing cell phone, flashing and vibrating itself towards the edge of the table. She reached down again, picked up the phone and said,
“Hello, this is Penelope.”
Again she looked down at the phone, sitting there, cold, not giving away any of the information for which she longed to hear. She looked at the car keys and the blue purse next to it and thought about cleaning it out. It was becoming very cluttered, lately. So many receipts and gum wrappers. It was not worth fooling with so she let the thought pass. It seemed unimportant to think about such things but she had to keep reminding herself that these distractions kept her from thinking about what happened, and why she was sitting here, glancing at the clock over the fireplace every few minutes, in spite of herself. Suddenly a panicked thought came over her.
“It’s not on!” she said aloud, exasperated, even afraid.
In the same instant, she reached for the phone; her hand inches away when suddenly it rang, and caused her to jump up so suddenly that she banged her shin on the low table. The flash of pain it caused was overcome by the chill that ran down her spine at the sight of the ringing cell phone, flashing and vibrating itself towards the edge of the table. She reached down again, picked up the phone and said,
“Hello, this is Penelope.”
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Ok, so I figure we can all log on here and use this for our funny stories about Penelope. Whoever starts each story can either just say who is next, or set out a list of who will contribute in what order to the stort, or my personal choice is just whoever logs on next and wants to update it can do so. That way there wouldn't be any waiting for someone in particular to add their part. I would start one right now, but I've gotta get going. I'll go ahead and forward all the info to all of you I can think of, and let one of you take the ball and run with it from there.
Penelope's Beginnings
This is the dawn of a new life for our budding character, Penelope. She's a faint figment of our minds for now, but as time goes on, and our words are pieced together, she'll develop quite a personality I'm sure and quite a collection of stories to tell her illegitimate children and grandchildren.
She is ALIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!! mwhahahhahahahaha.......
She is ALIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!! mwhahahhahahahaha.......
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