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Rainfall on Unmarked Graves
Topic Started: Jun 3 2013, 10:07 PM (762 Views)
Outfoxd
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[ *  *  *  *  * ]
((Raymond Dawson continued from SOTF: Version 4))

It wasn't often Ray got to come home anymore. Either he was training for a fight, or helping someone train, or he was fighting, and the schedule just didn't permit it. But when he got to come home, he savored it. Seeing the faces, the locales, feeling the brisk, cool air of Minnesota (a welcome change from New Mexico), always relaxed him. That sometimes he felt the old feelings, remembered what he had really left behind, didn't matter.

He had visited his mom and dad (he had stopped calling him Mike a few months after he came home) just yesterday afternoon. His mom had insisted he stay in his old room, and the feel of it almost broke him down. Being a fighter didn't do much to alleviate homesickness.

Alicia wasn't there; she had long since gone off to college to make something of herself. He was proud. She always made him proud.

But now it was time to visit his second family.

He had pulled up to the Hansen's driveway in his car, a new model black Lincoln MKX. They must have recently repainted; the front of the house was now a vivid yellow. He smiled; that had to be Mrs. Hansen's touch. He doubted Mr. Hansen went gentle in the night on it.

Ray took a breath and climbed out of his car. He took stock of himself. He thought he looked sharp in his vest and pinstriped shirt. Like he didn't beat people up for a living. The only thing that clashed was the array of gel bracelets on one wrist, their color faded from near-constant wearing.

He walked up to the front door, and knocked after straightening his tie one last time.

Edited by Outfoxd, Jun 3 2013, 10:34 PM.
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Leona Van Kamp
Current Thread: Arcadia


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BetaKnight
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In some cultures, what I do is considered normal.
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Marie Hansen shoved her palm against her mouth as if to smother the horrified moans escaping her. The beginnings of the fruit salad she had made each year for Independence Day lay forgotten on the kitchen counter as the reporter droned on. She sagged back against the counter, tears running unchecked down her cheeks as the news ticker continued to scroll across the bottom of the screen. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not again. She couldn't do this again.

The sound of someone knocking at the front door caught her attention. On a sort of autopilot, Marie walked over and opened the door. She attempted to wipe her eyes and get herself under control until she was who was on the other side. The sight of Ray Dawson standing on her front step pushed her fragile control over the edge.

With a hysterical sob, she leaned forward to grasp Ray's elbow. They couldn't do this again. She couldn't do this again.
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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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Felicia Carmichael was taking time off of studying for exams to stare at her monitor in shock. It had been a little more than four years since she last went through hell, last spoke with Kimberly in person, and left with that final bit of closure an entire chapter of her life. For an entire year, she had needed counselling and all sorts of therapy to help her with her nightmares and to make sure no sort of suicidal tendencies developed or persisted. Her parents flipped when they found the gun in her desk; she was so sure she had put it back after her meeting with Kimberly.

Things were looking up since then. She was in her third year of college after her sabbatical. Her parents still wanted a close eye on her so she was living at home rather than on campus, but they were trusting her more and more. She was all set to move on towards law school, attain her dream of becoming a lawyer and... just maybe, putting away one or two of those bastards. Things were almost back to normal, and then this happened. The report that the crash wasn't really...

Felicia snatched up her phone, one of the only things in the room that was powered on at the moment. The only sources of light in the room were from her computer's monitor and from the screen of her phone as she searched for Kimberly's number and dialed.

Kimberly Nguyen. Felicia didn't want to admit it to herself or anybody else, but despite her best efforts to be friends with the girl, she always hit this little roadblock. Whenever she interacted with her, it dug up the final persisting memory of the game, the one thing the shrinks never really could get her to cope with. Talking to Kimberly was both enlightening and somewhat damning, forcing Felicia to relive one element of the game over and over.

Kimberly wasn't picking up. So much for that whole thing anyway.

She breathed out a shaky sigh, and went down to the next number that came to her mind. She needed to talk to somebody, even if they already knew.

She called Ray.
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Outfoxd
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Alert, Alarm, almost giving way to panic. Mrs. Hansen face was drawn, haggard. The resemblance to her daughter, which Ray had to steel himself for every time he visited, was far less pronounced. She had no words for him, only hysteria.

When she grabbed his elbow, Ray reacted with instinct. He folded his free arm around the woman and pushed her head gently into his chest.

"Jesus Christ, what's going on?" He muttered, almost not expecting an answer. For a cold-gut second he was worried something had happened to the Hansen's youngest. She would've been going off to college, he thought. He hoped to God it wasn't that.

Then he was phone was vibrating in his left pocket.

"Oh for the love of..." He reached in and grabbed the phone. He held it up and looked at it, saw it was Felicia. Apparently hell had decided that it wasn't content where it was and had decided to liberate itself post-haste.

Ray hit "answer" and put the phone to his ear. "Hey."
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BetaKnight
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The beating of Ray's heart under her ear made the whole thing worse. The steady throb of life: young, strong, and full of potential.

She had thought that after all they had gone through, all that had been sacrificed, this would never have happened again. That the loss of her Annaliese would have been enough to appease God. And for a time, it had been so.

Against her better judgment, she and Edgar had even let Abby go on the Senior Trip this year, the first one held since Ray and Annaliese went. Both Abby and Aric had reasoned that it was safe. After all, there had been no other attacks in all that time. The threat was over. Gone. If the surviving teacher who chaperoned last time was willing to go again, shouldn't the Hansens have the same faith and allow Abby to go?

And they had. The trip had come and gone without incident, despite her gnawing worries. But now, another group was missing. Another community was mourning the loss of their best and brightest. Wouldn't it ever be enough? Wouldn't they ever be safe again?
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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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Ray picked up. Was Felicia happy or sad that he did? She had been praying he would pick up when the first few rings by with no answer, but now that she heard his voice, she was unsure if she wanted to tell him. What she wanted was one thing, what she had to do was another.

"Um... Ray? It's 'Licia," came the voice, somewhat tinned out by Ray's phone.

"Have... you been watching the news lately?" Felicia gave a slight gulp. "Because, um... well, I'm sure you know by now, right? About... you know?"

Damn it, why couldn't she just up and say it?

"I hear crying in the background... a-are you with somebody?"
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