Charlie could hear the pattering of feet following her, and honestly, she didn’t expect anything less from her best friend.  And she didn’t want anything else.  She was angry, sure, but in actuality, she was embarrassed.  There were reasons that Charlie hadn’t dated before and now that those issues were long gone back in the trailer park, she was making an utter fool of herself.  She turned around before she was instantly puffing her lower lip in a master pout before crossing her arms.  “Fine,”  she stated before she was leaning against the door frame and watching her best friend try and make the situation better.  “See?  Rough, but salvageable.  It’s not salvageable.  I’m an idiot.  I’m a bumbling idiot that was covered in a sticky substance for most of the night.”  Charlie ran a hand through her hair before she was shaking her head.  “He didn’t even act like he cared.”  And to her dismay, Charlie couldn’t even realize that this was a good thing.  “He was a good guy.  He laughed at my jokes.  He liked my puns.  He thought my stuttering was fine.  And he helped try and clean up the mess, but that’s because he’s a nice guy.  But right now, he’s probably laughing at me with Jude.  Oh my god, I’m angry at you.”  Charlie stated boldly before she was stepping closer to her best friend and instantly wrapping her arms around her waist and bringing her into a tight hug.  “I need to become a nun immediately.  Can you take me to a convent?”

Violet listens. She’s an expert listener, always willing to lend an ear and hear out the complaints and fears of her best friend, listening to her recount the events from the evening and definitely overreact to the way everything had gone. “Charlie,” she tries to interrupt, but the girl is still talking, rambling on about the date and King until she’s coming to a halt and wrapping her arms around Violet. “Charlie,” Violet sighs, resting her chin on her shoulder and squeezing her tightly for a quick moment before putting her at arms length, a hand firmly on each of her shoulders. “There’s no way he’s laughing at you with Jude. Mostly because I’d kick Jude’s ass if he ever laughed at you, and I think Jude would kick King’s ass if he laughed at you. You’re not going to a convent, you’re going to sit here and eat ice cream with me and you can mope all you want, but you’re a damn catch, Charlotte Knox. And if Kingston can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve a chance in hell with you. Got it? You’re. A. Catch.” 

Another day, another stack of paperwork.  For Maddox Roth, life consisted of a handful of cases a week and an entire twenty four hours of solid paperwork to fill out, but he didn’t care.  Being a police officer and the go-to first responder for domestic violence cases was a job that was far too rewarding for Maddox to ever complain about.  However, the paperwork could become quite trying, he had learned.  The paperwork, of course, just outlined his level of success with maintaining safety and success in cases of retrieving women from horrible domestic situations, and that was something that would always hover over his head whenever he got even slightly down on the paperwork. 

Today, like most days, he was situated at his desk, laughing at some bullshit jokes that his partner and other co-officers were making.  It was a slow day in the office, and that was always something that made Maddox feel good.  A slow day meant that the psychopaths of the world were calming down, even for just an hour, and that gave Maddox hope.  He had grown up in a not-so-sane environment, so he was the first to know that all it took was a turn of wind to make a situation turn tense, therefore calling in the local services to appease the situation.  For the line of work and calls he was called in on though, Maddox hoped with everything inside of him that for once, he was able to stay situated in his seat.

That wasn’t the case.

“Roth, suit up.”  Maddox glanced up at his commanding officer before he was furrowing his eyebrows.  “Sir, with all due respect, I still have the paperwork from the Marrion case earlier this week to do and you wanted it by tom -”  Before Maddox could even protest further, he was being cut off.  “No.  You can have an extension.  Suit the fuck up.  You’re going to want to be in on this one, and honestly, we need you.”  Nothing else needed to be said before Maddox was sharing a look with Ted, his partner, and pushing himself away from the office desk.

In a matter of minutes, Maddox had situated his bulletproof vest against his chest and was racing to the location he had been giving.  “What the fuck do you think is happening?”  He questioned out loud, but he knew the information would be coming soon.  And then, it did.  “Male child telling surrounding civilians that his mother and him are trapped in a shed.  Backyard of Chilicothe Street.  No officers on the scene yet.  Call placed eight minutes ago.”  Mother fuck.

Maddox sped onto the scene before he caught a glimpse at the little boy in question and his heart sunk.  This wasn’t just a male child - this was a small male child.  As he exited his car, Maddox took off his police hat before he was flashing a smile at the little boy.  He knew that something of this caliber, it was a sensitive case.  Getting on the boy’s level and staying back from him, he offered a friendly gaze.  “Hey there, big guy.  How are you?  You doing okay?”  He asked before he was holding out his police hat.  “How about you help me out some.  I heard that your mommy is trapped somewhere.  Do you think you can put this hat on and be my fellow police officer so we can find her?”  He said, holding out the hat before he was carefully placing it on the boy’s head.

~

In less than five minutes of racing onto the scene, Maddox had left the little boy off of the scene with his partner before he was racing towards the shed that the little boy, whose name he had learned to be Greyson, had pointed to.  He wasn’t even waiting for back up before he was kicking the door in, gun loaded and cocked into position.  “Get the fuck down.  Right now.”  He warned, instantly pointing his gun at the only male in the room.  “Get over there right now, Linnea.  Get against the wall of room,”  Maddox demanded to the female, knowing that his keywords and phrasing was going to show just that he had spoken with her son before coming inside to save her.  Then, everything suddenly went too fast and too slow all at once.  Before Maddox could even understand what was happening, the male was on the floor.  Dead.  From his gun.  He had lunged at the girl, and he was going to be damned to have a stickier situation on his hands.  “Are you okay?”  He questioned, instantly running to her side, but making obvious point not to touch her.

The seconds pass too slowly, as if the weight of the world was resting too heavily on each passing second and it struggled and strained under the pressure, barely inching along. Linnea was hardly aware of what was happening-- all she cared about was the fact that Greyson was gone. Greyson was out in the world, a world that might’ve been cold and heartless, but good god, she knew it had to be better than existing in here. Nothing mattered except for the fact that she needed to see Greyson again- not the way the draft from the corner of the room left her covered in goosebumps, not the weight of Carter on top of her, not the sounds of cars and birds outside and overhead. None of it mattered. 

She’d mastered the art of retreating into her head when things got bad. She could forget she existed, separate her mind from her body in a way that made everything happening a little more bearable, a way of continuing to survive even when every fiber of her being wanted to give up. It was times like this, when hope seemed so close, but so impossible, that she wanted to give up the most. Hope was a dangerous thing in her world; fleeting and painful, plans that never come to fruition or work out. Hope is a thing that breaks hearts and causes floods of tears. And yet she finds herself hoping. For Greyson. For herself. For a life outside of this room. 

It’s faint at first, but she’s sure of the sound. It’s a sound she’s studied time and time again-- footsteps. Coming towards the room. She can’t stop herself from turning her head to look in the direction, a mistake. Carter notices, picks up on the sound seconds after she’s moved her gaze, and he’s instantly pushing her face into the mattress, muffling any sound she could possibly make, making it hard for her to breathe. “Shut up,” he hisses at her, breath hot on her ear as he hovers over her, staring at the door as the sound disappears. 

Maybe it wasn’t the rescue she’d hoped for. More than once, it had been a gardener, a neighbor coming to ask to borrow a tool, a neighborhood kid who’d accidentally launched their baseball over the fence. Linnea had heard the conversations that happened outside of the shed, the excuses he manufactured to quickly get everyone off of his property. False hope. Heartbreak. She knew it well. 

But then it’s all happening too quickly. The door is kicked in, a gun pointed at the bed where Carter’s still keeping Linnea held down, a booming voice. Carter gets on the ground and Linnea doesn’t hesitate to follow orders, her back flush to the wall of the room within seconds of being told to do so. Room. He’d said room. He’d talked to Greyson. She can’t hold back the tears that start brimming in her eyes at the realization that he’d actually done it, that they were actually going to be okay. For once, things had worked out. Things would be good from here on out, she’d make sure of it. 

It’s a thought that she only gets to sit with for a few seconds before Carter is lunging at her and she’s instantly huddled on the floor, the sound of a gunshot echoing through the room making her cry out as she squeezes her eyes shut tightly. And then silence. A deafening kind of silence that only comes in the wake of chaos. She opens her eyes again and looks at the officer standing above her, taking in a shaky breath before nodding. “Never been better,” she says, leaning back heavily against the wall and pulling her knees to her chest. “Is he... Are you sure he’s...” She motions over at Carter’s body, his lifeless eyes still open and staring back at her. “Is he really dead?”

@dontbeahero

Tyler Joseph edit - Firefly Music Festival Day 3

Slamming the door, Charlie made her very dramatic entrance into her shared apartment with her best friend.  In a record amount of time, she was stomping through the small living space before her eyes landed upon her best friend.  “You,”  she started, her single word sounding exasperated as she shook her head, a glare apparent on her face. “You are so dead to me right now.”  Charlie exhaled heavily, blowing a chaste kiss to her best friend to cancel the previous statement before she was groaning loudly.  “It was a catastrophe.  It was the worst date in history of dates, I can feel it.  I feel like I’ll wake up in the morning, and I’ll be the hottest headline because it was such a horrendous date.”  Taking off her sweater, Charlie instantly began to rummage through her best friend’s clothing, finding something adequate enough for her to wear right now.  And while she began undressing and dressing in Violet’s clothes, she was speaking quickly.  “First, I made a dumb joke about my name being Queen.  And then I stuttered through my entire order.  I froze whenever he asked what I wanted to do with my life.  I made too many puns, and the best part?”  Pausing for dramatic effect, Charlie stomped her feet in anger.  “I freakin’ spilled an entire glass of Coke on me, Vi!  It was an absolute disgrace.  You sent me into a battlefield and I was shot.  And killed.  Viciously.  Don’t talk to me.  You aren’t allowed to talk to me for an hour and thirty seven minutes.”  And with that, Charlie was gone, disappearing into her own room, completely out of breathe. @eternxlsunshine

Violet looked up from her bed, the pathway from her room to the front door clear as Charlie stormed through the living room and into her doorway. She set down her notebook, cocking her head in confusion as her best friend glared her down, confusion changing to shock when she was getting a look that could kill. The mood shifted again with a kiss blown in her direction, though, and Violet relaxed a little. No matter how much trouble she was in over whatever the issue was, the girl would still love her. They were far too connected, attached at the hip. “Dead to you? The heck did I do?” And then the other shoe dropped, and Violet was instantly sitting up a little straighter in her bed, dangling her feet off the side, watching her best friend closely as she rummaged through her closet and filled in all the missing details. Queen, dear god. Stuttering. Puns. Spilling her drink. It’s all Violet can do not to burst out laughing, but it’s clear that Charlie doesn’t think it’s a laughing matter. “Wait!” She’s jumping off her bed and sprinting into the other room, “You’re not allowed to cut me off for an hour and thirty seven minutes. Count to five and then I’m gonna be talking again, okay?” One, two, three, four, five. She takes in a deep breath and launches into her spiel. “I bet it didn’t go that terribly. With a name like King, he had to expect a joke about you being a Queen. Besides, he’s gotta know early on that you’re a queen. Stuttering is just a nervous thing. No such thing as too many puns. The coke thing... That’s a little rough, but totally salvageable. Ugh, was it really that bad? Do I owe you my soul now? Jude swore King was a good guy, I didn’t think it’d go terribly.”