• In the city of Toledo, Ohio, there lay a busy town with rising crime rates, and the population decreasing rapidly, from people moving away or being murdered. Near the edge of town, the most dangerous part of the city, stood a small house, boarded up and abandoned. What the rest of the town didn’t know was that this building was not abandoned, but lived in by a woman, Amyle Sumner, whose parents had owned the house at one point. Amyle lived on stolen food, tattered clothes, and dirty water. Amyle’s parents were fugitives from England and came to America for a better life for themselves and their three-year-old daughter. Amyle could still remember their heavy English accents, which were passed to her as a child. Except that’s all she could remember, since they died 12 years later. Why and how that happened still remained a mystery. Amyle remained solitary from the town, believing her only chance of survival was to remain hidden and unknown. One night, Amyle casually strode out back of the house, desperately hungry, looking for some food. She rounded the corner to her favorite restaurant, Nopa’s Noodles. She snuck to the back and found a container of food with chop sticks on top. She suspected the food was left here by the only person in town who knew her and was her friend, Dorelane Woodsworth. Dorelane was Amyle’s best friend in high school, until Amyle disappeared. Dorelane was a great cook, but the best job he could find in a kitchen was attending tables at Nopa’s Noodles. Every Thursday evening, he left out big tubs of left over noodles for Amyle as a treat. Amyle chomped on the noodles, until she got to the point of licking out the insides of the container. Dorelane strode to the back of the restaurant decadently.
    “Someone was hungry . . . ” said Dorelane sarcastically.
    “Ok, after this, I owe you big time. I was very hungry. And the noodles are incredible!” said Amyle after the seventh time of eating that style of noodles.
    “Made ‘em myself!” added Dorelane with pride riding his voice. “You look thin,” he continued, “maybe you should come to my place for a while, and get you some nice clothes and I can make you a nice big meal. You’ll be an empress for a day.”
    “You know I don’t like leaving my home other than for food,” whispered Amyle.
    “Technically it would be for food, clothes, and companionship,” said Dorelane.
    “How about instead of me going to your house, you come over to mine. Bring whatever you can, come through the basement entrance. Can you come tomorrow?”
    “You know I can,” said Dorelane.
    They shared a friendly kiss and Amyle ran off toward home, staying in the shadows. Nightfall came and Amyle lit the seventeen candles around her house. She walked up to her room, dusting up the dirt that came from the window. Tonight, she thought, tonight after two years, I’m gonna go to my parents room, clean up . . . that’s all. Maybe find some candles, she continued in thought, I have to make the place presentable for Dorelane’s visit. Now she began to speak, “We’ll, I’m 20 now. Maybe I can move out of my childish room. I can be a grown up now. I’m gonna sleep in mum and dad’s room. Grow up . . . ” She kept repeating those last two words over and over. She busted open the jabbed door leading to the room. A light fragrance filled the air, reminding her of her mom. She ran her finger’s through her parent’s clothes, which were disintegrating to her touch. She found her mother’s perfume almost empty. She decided to leave the last bit for Dorelane’s visit. She entered the bathroom and found the decorations inviting. Seeing as the bedroom and bathroom were the only two rooms without windows, she turned on the power from inside the basement and lit the two rooms. She quickly showered and put on one of the nightgowns that weren’t punched full of holes. The bed was a big collision of sheets in warm blue shades. She gleefully slept in that bed through the night, dreaming about tomorrow.
    The next evening, she found a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt in a fair shape, slipping on with ease. She found some pins that belonged to her grandmother, and put her hair up in a neat bun . . . she knew Dorelane loved it when her hair was up. She sprayed on the beautiful fragrance, like a garden of roses.
    Around eleven at night, she heard a knocking coming from the door leading to the basement. Dorelane was right on time. She almost jumped with excitement. She opened the door and was welcomed with a hug, a smile, and a kiss. He entered the light filled room, a sack between both arms.
    “Wow, light. There’s a surprise!” he said.
    “Yeah well, I felt the need to escape the dark,” she said, suddenly as curiosity won over Amyle. “What’s in the bag?”
    “Well, some food, candles for light, which you probably won’t need, oh, and this,” he said as he pulled out a combination of a shirt, skirt, socks, and shoes.
    “No way! My old high school uniform!” she exclaimed.
    “Yeah. Remember you left it over that one night you spent the night at my place and my parents forced you to sleep in the living room on the couch,” he laughed, a grin climbing over his face.
    “Yeah . . . My first sleep over . . . Man, and I miss those days,” she thought out loud.
    “Really . . . me, too,” he said as his smile was growing wider. Now he was making Amyle smile.
    “How about after dinner, we relive old times? Remind me of how lucky I can get playing cards,” Amyle said.
    “Deal.”
    They ate up the Chinese take-out Dorelane brought. They talked for a while, then played board games and cards all night, while watching TV and listening to music. Dorelane finally went to sleep in the guest room and Amyle slept in her new room. By the time Amyle woke up, Dorelane was sitting in a nearby chair in her room, putting on his shoes.
    “Well now that you’re awake, I ought to tell you . . . that was so fun last night! Best night ever!” he said smiling, making Amyle smile. Then he continued, “you know I hate to run off like this, but I have to go to work. Someone has to pay my bills. Oh, and by the way, happy birthday.”
    He walked out the door, and Amyle remembered it was indeed her 21st birthday. Then she remembered the deal Dorelane and she made one day at school, “On the night before my 21st birthday, we have to do something really fun . . . making it the best night ever!” She smiled at her memory.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    It was the next Thursday night, as Amyle anxiously waited outside the restaurant for Dorelane to bring her some food. It was already dark outside. Where was Dorelane? A couple of hours later, the restaurant was closing up. Upset, she decided to visit Dorelane’s apartment to confront him.
    She walked a couple of blocks, then accidentally overheard a conversation.
    “Did you hear what happened? Nopa’s Noodles is closing down!”
    “Why? They had very good business!”
    “Well, from what I hear, the owner’s son was a waiter there. Then this morning, he didn’t show up. The owner went to check on his son, but found him in a puddle of blood at his apartment!”
    Having an epiphany, Amyle realized Dorelane was his boss’ son. Now, not caring if she was seen, she raced to her boyfriend’s apartment. She saw policemen scouring the building. She took an elevator to Dorelane’s floor. As soon as the doors opened, she raced impatiently to Dorelane’s apartment, now polluted by police tape reading “Crime Scene”. She cut through the tape and ran toward Dorelane’s body. A policeman caught her, telling her to stay back, so she wouldn’t taint any evidence. She flailed wildly in the officer’s arms. As soon as she calmed down, another officer came to her, asking her name.
    “Amyle Sumner,” she responded.
    “We found this. Inspectors declared it to be irrelevant in the investigation,” said the officer, handing Amyle an envelope.
    She ran home before opening the envelope. When she got there, she came in through the back, turned off the power, and lit every candle in her house. She frantically cried in her parents room as she read the note:
    Dear Amyle,
    Last night you made me the happiest man on Earth. Unfortunately, my father is sending me on a business trip to Chicago, Illinois, to talk about opening a restaurant there. I’m going to be gone for a couple of months. I wanted to send you this letter before I left, to ask you a question. I never told you this, but I love you SO much, more than a friend should. Do you love me? I love you with all my heart, and have since I first met you in high school. You make me feel SO alive! I want you to know that I plan to put you ahead of me for the rest of my life . . .
    Amyle knew where this was headed.
    ... I want to ask you what is probably the most important question of your life. The way you smile makes me smile back. I love the way your nose curls when you smile and laugh. Whenever you walk by, my heart drops to my knees. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I love you and always will. Please answer my question with a positive smile and give me one of your sweet kisses and be with me the rest of my life.

    Amyle tapped the remainder of the envelope into her hand to reveal a beautiful diamond ring taped to the page. Now streams of tears ran her cheeks. She slipped on the ring, slowly with great love. It fit perfectly. Then all of a sudden, she raged with anger. She would get her revenge, and she knew just how to do it . . .
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    It was dark outside, midnight, yet the city blazed with light. She wore what was now her costume. She turned her moms camouflage pants and her dad’s traveler’s belt into a flexible suit along with a tank-top and her boots, fit for fighting. She tied her long, sleek black hair into two tight ponytails. Her eyes scanned the city as she sat on top of a hill. Her kick boxing and self-defense classes were to help now, as she saw her first target. She crept quietly, using her ears as her eyes.
    “Give me the bag,” came a hoarse voice. His only response was a terrified whimper. In the middle of a dark alley, a masked man tightened his grip on a frightened little woman. Her eyes were big, streaming with tears, trying to wriggle free from the mans grip.
    A thin figure emerged from the shadows. “Let go of her,” came a fierce voice, which was Amyle’s.
    “Who are you?” asked the man, still holding onto the woman. No answer. “I said, WHO ARE YOU?” he yelled, now aggravated.
    “Pain,” said Amyle as she slid her leg under the man. He tripped and Amyle pressed her shoe onto his neck.
    “What do you want? I’ll give you anything you want. Just tell me what you want! What do you want?”
    “Revenge,” was the last thing she said before she punched him with her left hand, leaving the man to bleed from his nose, unconscious.
    “Thank you! Oh, thank you so much! People like you make the town safe again,” said the startled little woman.
    “This town will never be safe,” she said under her breath. “Call the police, I have to go,” said Amyle, looking away from the woman. She ran back into the shadows, one hair out of place, and the police arrived shortly.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    “This is the seventh case in two days. All with the same MO, a small circle on the right cheek, probably from a ring. There’s evidence of trauma on the neck, with great force. Probably coming from a shoe.”
    “Probably? Look at this. These are three inch heel marks!” said the second officer at the scene.
    “Well, so far, my description for the attacker is a woman, late teens, early twenties. I still can’t tell if this lady is a good guy or a criminal,” interrupted a third officer, who was with the FBI, Special Agent Jacob Hall.
    “Agent Hall,” started the first officer, “we’ve run a background check on every victim, all with police records, some even show up on the N.C.I.C. database.”
    “Federal offenders. That doesn’t surprise me. They all look like the lowly types. But don’t call them victims, they aren’t dead,” announced Agent Hall.
    “This is still a federal crime though, isn’t it?” asked the second officer.
    “Not federal, but a small town crime, yes. Do you have any possible suspects?” asked the agent.
    “Yes. But our main suspect is Amyle Sumner. She fits the physical and emotional description for the attacker. She was reported missing years ago by neighbors, although they claimed to see her around the house occasionally. We spoke with her boyfriend a couple years back, but he didn’t give us anything. Then, a couple days ago, we found him in a puddle of his own blood. All O+, but the girl is A-, so she didn’t do it. But we found out that he recently engaged her. This could be revenge attacks,” told the first officer.
    “If it’s this girl, I’ll bet everything I got on it being revenge attacks. Let’s pay a visit to her house,” said Hall.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    Some couple hours later, Amyle was sitting in her parent’s bathroom, her new bathroom, cleaning the blood off her suit from her eighth “victim”. She gave a slight and sinister chuckle. She put up her hair and put on the same jeans and tee-shirt as a couple nights ago, on her fiancé’s visit. She walked to the kitchen, and opened her fridge that was now stocked full of the food Dorelane brought last time. She pulled out a tub of rotisserie chicken, and ate every bit, thinking of her dead fiancé. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Since she feared no more, she took down the boards on the doors and windows around the house, and turned on the lights. After all, she could afford it since social services never stopped mailing checks, obviously not getting the information that she was “missing”. She revoked her missing person’s report, feeling much safer now. She opened the door, and found two people . . . cops, she was certain of it.
    “Hello, I’m special agent Jacob Hall and this is my partner, special agent Karen Anton,” said agent Hall, flashing his badge. A woman peered behind him with a kind smile on her face. “May we come in?” he continued.
    After hesitating a moment, Amyle widened the door, letting agent Hall and agent Anton enter. “Can I help you with anything?” asked Amyle in a low, disturbed voice.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    A couple of days after the FBI agents payed her a visit, she went to find a job. Everybody was surprised to find someone living in the abandoned house, let alone the girl who’d been reported missing for many years. She eventually found a job at the local supermarket, giving her discounts on food and clothing. It was around eight at night, and she was walking home from work after her relief, Jake South, came. Jake South was of the strange type. He’d done time for murdering someone. Sometimes he really scared Amyle, especially when he tried to kiss her a couple of times. One night as she walked home, she got the strangest feeling that she was being followed . . . watched.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    On the other side of the street stood Hall’s car.
    “Where is she going? Her house is in the opposite direction . . . ” asked Anton.
    “Shhhhh . . . ” whispered Hall. They were putting Amyle under surveillance. Amyle suddenly turned the corner into a dark alley. They were getting somewhere.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    Amyle turned the corner to reveal a dark alley. She pulled out her costume and slipped into it with much practice. She hid her bag behind a trash can, recollecting her memory of where she had just left it, making sure she wouldn’t lose it. She tied up her hair, relaxed, and jumped into action.

    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    From inside Hall’s car, they saw something climb to the roof, with odd strength, like strength from about a week’s worth of work outs, which is the time it’s been since they found the first victim, which is the time since Amyle revoked her missing person’s report. Hall put the car into drive, following the woman. They stopped at an alley, and just waited.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    Amyle jumped from roof to roof, looking for a crime to stop. She found an alley with a man trying to break into a restaurant, closed down Nopa’s Noodles to be exact. Too easy, she thought. She quickly grabbed the man, tied him with a rope she found on one of the tables, and threw out the front door for the FBI agents who were following her. She went through the kitchen, but stopped dead in her tracks, when she saw something in a small money vault. Something shiny. The shine caught her eye, but the shape was what made her stop. It was a heart locket, just like the one found in her parents jewelry box. She reached in for it and found a letter underneath it. Before she even got a chance to read it, Hall and Anton entered, making Amyle run off to her house.
    Amyle sat in her big, blue room, with tears in a matching color running down her cheeks. Her vision was blurred from so much crying, but she got the main idea of the letter. She read small parts, figuring out the note was for her. We love you so much . . . read one part. We’re so sorry for what we did to you . . . was another. Basically, it told her she was abandoned. They left her because it was the right thing to do and her parents weren’t able to take care of her. Then, the note changed direction . . . I’m glad we decided not to leave you after all. They were murdered after all . . . relief ran Amyle’s heart, but then grief struck again. But why was this letter in Nopa’s Noodles? She went downstair and pulled out some paper and pencils. She started to draw her emotions, her words, her thoughts, and her voice. She was deep in concentration when a knock at the door startled her. She wasn’t surprised to see Agent Hall at her door step.
    “It’s about time,” she whispered coldly as she let him in. Hall sat on a rugged couch, a smile warming and forgiving crossing his dimpled cheeks. Amyle didn’t understand. She treated him badly. She just wanted to get rid of him, but there he was . . . sorry for her.
    “I think you should talk about this,” explained Hall.
    “Well, Agent Hall, the world runs much better when things are kept bottled up,” she continued in her cold tone and sat on the couch next to Hall.
    “Call me Jacob,” he said, with smiles and all.
    “Agent Hall is fine,” she said as she looked away. Kindness reminded her of Dorelane.
    Hall got closer, pulling strands of glossy black hair away from her eyes, and Amyle realized they were only a couple of inches away from each other. He reeled in and kissed her, his lips warm and understanding. Both realizing it was a mistake to kiss, they both sat up, away from each other, blushing.
    “Well, Ms. Sumner, I came over to see how you were doing. Everything all right? Good. Okay then, I have to go . . . ” said Hall quickly and startled, rising.
    “Wait Hall. Sit down again. I’ll make something to eat, and we can talk. Just talk,” said Amyle, easing the tension.
    “Thank you,” said Hall, with his reassuring smile returning.
    Amyle cooked up some spaghetti and fixed two plates and two cups of wine from a bottle that she found in the kitchen. They then wandered over to her small but lovely dining table and ate.
    “That is a lovely ring you’re wearing by the way,” said Hall as they finished up their food.
    Shocked at his comment, she responded with a low tone, “Yes, me fiancé gave it to me. Dead fiancé.”
    “Yeah, I read the file, and I’m sorry,” apologized Hall.
    Amyle then told Hall about everything that ever happened to her, her parents’ death, her nights with Dorelane, her engagement note, her revenge, and her parents note. “You aren’t going to arrest me, are you?”
    “Well, as an Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, I cannot. But local policemen can. I won’t tell them, but they’ll find out some time,” explained Hall.
    “They never do,” said Amyle, referring to her parents’ death.
    “The other day, after I met you, I did a little digging into your parents’ file. Main suspect was Darin Woodsworth.”
    “Darin Woodsworth? That was Dorelane’s dad. Why would he want to kill my parents?”
    “Well, Darin was next in line to inherit money after you. After you disappeared, he won millions of dollars in life insurance money. Also, he was no where to be seen on the night of your parents murder.”
    Amyle scoffed at the thought. “That little scoundrel,” she finally said.
    “We brought him into custody, but the DA refused to prosecute or arrest him because there was no hard evidence,” responded Hall. Noticing a tear stream down her cheek, he suggested watching TV to get her mind off things. They watched TV until they fell asleep. Amyle woke up in the morning, cradled in Hall’s arms. She smiled and stayed there for a while, then reminded herself to keep her distance. Cops’ were the enemy. They never did anything good. She slipped out of Hall’s arms and started on breakfast.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    After the late death of his son, Darin Woodsworth hasn’t been seen since. He’s been avoiding the cops, afraid it will arouse the Sumner parents’ case again, because, after all, it has a connection. He entered the local super market for some food.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    Amyle was late at work that night, working a no pay over-shift. Around one in the morning, the store still had a couple dozen shoppers because, after-all, it was an “open twenty four-hours” store. A throng long line of customers were waiting for check out. She scanned mindlessly, collecting money and returning change. All of a sudden, the next person in line was Darin Woodsworth.
    “Mr. Woodsworth?” asked Amyle in a startled tone.
    In that instant, Darin fled the store, with Amyle chasing him. Unfortunately, she never caught up to him, and returned to her checkout station. She told Hall about this the next morning in the local diner.
    “As soon as he saw you he ran? He thinks you know something. You probably do, just don’t realize it,” thought Hall out loud. They discussed this over coffee and doughnuts, when agent Anton inturupts them, with a new victim, but no MO. Amyle turns to face Hall, she’s been with him the past couple nights.
    “Woodsworth,” she said under her breath.
    They arrived at the crime scene, with Amyle ridding in the back seat of the FBI car. The agents dismissed the officers before letting Amyle into the scene. After all, she had an alibi, so she couldn’t have done it. “Everything thing the same as the other attacks, except with greater pressure on the neck struggle, and no ring mark left. Except this guy was not a criminal,” said Hall.
    Again, Amyle said “Woodsworth.”
    “Had to be. Approximate time of death was around the time last night after you saw him. He probably tried to frame you. Also, we found his blood in Dorelane’s apartment. He probably killed his son to keep the truth from coming to you. But what I don’t understand is how he knows about the other attacks. I mean, the information wasn’t released publically. Either way, this isn’t just a sick murderer for money, this is a serial killer, striking to stop the truth from coming. And I want to put you under surveillance, in case he comes after you next,” explained Hall.
    “I can take care of myself . . . ” she said staring at the body, that was killed, not just scarred into being arrested, they way she did it.
    Hall pulled her face closer to his, then said, “I know. But this is a sick man we’re dealing with. I don’t want to take any chances.”
    She pulled her face away, then said, “I have to go.”
    Amyle waited on top of a building, suited up, and waiting for sunset to finish. Darkness fell, and she jumped to lower buildings, finally reaching a bottom alley. She wanted to desperately take out her anger on the criminals. Night dwindled on and criminal after criminal was beaten and tied with her own rope this time. At about three in the morning, she retired to her house. When she arrived, she realized she wasn’t wearing her ring. Startled, she pressed play on her new answering machine, leaving three messages from Hall, saying to call back. The last one was just left, so she called Hall back, easing her tension from his voice.
    The next morning, Hall, Anton, and Amyle arrived at another crime scene, one that was familiar to Amyle from the night before. Every witness just described their attacker as “a chick who can kick”. Amyle was proud to know the local police force still had no leads, because they dropped their suspicion off of Amyle, since she started having alibi’s. She stared at the man laying on the floor. She remembered him, he was the guy who was mugging that one young man. This ought to teach him a lesson. As she approached him, he started wailing around and muffling with his tape covered mouth. He recognized her. Luckily, no one saw her, but she stepped back and hid behind Hall.
    “He recognizes me!” she whispered to Hall.
    “I’ll take care of it,” he said. Amyle nodded, then Hall yelled “All right, get this guy into the county jail, as soon as possible. Then let my forensics team look around.”
    “Thank you,” Amyle continued in her whisper.
    “Your welcome,” he said with his warm smile. Amyle loved it when he did that. She stepped out from behind him, then noticed something, a ribbon. It was hers. DNA match could tie her to the scene with a single hair left there. She quickly picked it up, but somebody yelled out from behind her.
    “Hey you!” yelled a man wearing latex gloves. He approached her and Amyle thought, it’s over, this is the end. She stepped back, and the man finally said, “Don’t touch that. That’s evidence,” Amyle expected the man to yank the ribbon from her hands, but instead, he bent down and picked up a piece of gum. “We can get DNA and be lucky enough to see that it belongs to one of the suspects.”
    As he walked away, Amyle said under her breath, “I doubt it.”
    Hall came up to her and asked, “Did you find anything?”
    “Yeah, something that could surely convict me,” she said.
    “Well, don’t let me see it right now. As cop, I have to tell everything I know. As friend, my mouth is shut,” he said, smiling.
    Later that night, Hall entered Amyle’s house. He came in and quickly sat on the couch, with Amyle following. He opened up a folder that was in his hands. As he did this, he was rapidly talking.
    “This is Darin Woodsworth’s criminal record. He was charged for armed robbery seven times, only convicted once. This all happened before he got married and had a son. After your parents death, he started dissapearing a lot. Not showing up to work, hardly paying bills and taxes, the only time people saw him was shopping for food or in alley ways.”
    “Like the other night,” Amyle concluded.
    “”Right. Then the same thing happened after his sons death. No one, except you, has seen him in over a week,” continued Hall.
    “Then we have to find him, before it’s too late,” she said sadly.
    A couple days later, Amyle met up with Karen Anton at the local diner for breakfast. Amyle entered smiling, and before she could even say hi, Anton said in a hushed, cold tone, “I know it was you.”
    Amyle, shocked at her words stammered, “Wh-what was me?”
    “Don’t play innocent. I found a hair at the first scene, matching your DNA. I’ve known Hall long enough to know he knew all along too.”
    “Then why haven’t you turned me in?” asked Amyle, puzzled.
    “I like you. And obviously, Hall does too. More than he should. And he would have turned you in by now, so I’m suspecting you’re a good guy,” she continued in her monotone.
    “I’m still a little confused,” Amyle continued, along with her puzzled expression.
    “I won’t turn you in. I, like you, have many things to hide. But my secrets don’t get me killed. You should watch yourself. Even though you denied it, Hall put you under surveillance because he wants you to stay safe. But remember- ”
    Suddenly, she was interrupted by a crash through the window near them. A rock came smashing through the window, and Anton noticed it read “Watch Out!” She drew her gun and aimed it out the window, but everyone had run off by then. Anton looked down at Amyle, who was now laying on the floor, unconscious.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    Hall rushed through the aisles of the hospital, rushing to Anton’s side, in front of the window leading to Amyle’s hospital room. Breathless, he asked, “I came as soon as you called.”
    “I can tell,” Anton said jokingly.
    “How is she?” he asked.
    “She was hit pretty hard with the rock. She had severe bleeding, partial concussion, and temporary amnesia. She was finished with surgery a couple of hours ago, but we can’t see her for another few minutes,” explained Anton.
    “Had to be Woodsworth. Did you check him out?” continued Hall.
    “Yes, but witnesses placed him over three miles away from the scene at the time of the crime.”
    “Accomplice?” asked Hall.
    “Already checked that. He has no email, hasn’t gotten or sent any mail other than bills for the past nine months. I doubt it’s him,” said Anton.
    “Then we’re pretty sure it was someone else. But who?” said Hall as he stared at Amyle’s stiff, sad body.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    Amyle blinked twice, adjusting to her blurred vision. Then she noticed someone sitting near her bed. “Dad?” she said, reaching her hand toward the figure.
    “Not even close,” joked a man sitting near her bed, smiling.
    The figure looked familiar, but couldn’t pin-point the man. “Who are you?” she asked in awry.
    “I’m Jacob Hall.”
    The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t remember Hall.
    “Here, let me fix your pillow,” Hall said, letting out a sigh of relief. “How do you feel?”
    “Better... I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you...” she continued in disbelief.
    “I’m the agent in charge of your parents disappearance/death case, and I’m in charge of your fiancé’s death case.”
    “Fiancé?” asked Amyle as she lifted her left hand, seeing a ring. The ring reminded her of the note and the proposal, but the shape was different. What she didn’t know was that Hall slipped on another ring while she was still asleep, one he bought for his ex-fiancé before she died. “Why is the ring different from what I remember?”
    “Oh, that. Yeah, I let you borrow a ring I bought when you lost your ring on one of those ‘attack’ nights.”
    At the mentioning, she remembered all her nights fighting crime, being her alter-ego. Then she remember Dorelane, Darin, Anton, and everything else.
    Hall noticed the look in her eyes, almost like an epiphany, and leaned over and kissed her. He was glad she remembered everything.
    Hall arrived at Amyle’s doorstep, and helped her into the house, using his own key she gave him. He stared into Amyle’s eyes as they stepped into the living room. He got closer wanting to kiss her, but she drew back. She started walking towards her room, calling back, “Thanks for bringing me, you can leave the key on the counter, you can leave, and I’ll be fine.” She finished her sentence and shut the door behind her. She pulled out some of her paper, and started drawing whatever was on her mind. Hall walked in, while she was lost in thought.
    “Are you okay?” he concernedly asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “No your not. I know that you’re not,” he continued.
    “How do you know how I feel? How does anyone know how I feel? Did your parents get murdered? Your fiancé? Do you know any thing about how I feel? Do you?! No you don’t! No one does,” she crumbled into tears as she said this.
    “Actually, I do know what it’s like,” said Hall.
    “No, you don’t.”
    “It’s okay.” Hall said as he approached to hug her.
    “No, it’s not. Please, can you just leave? I need to be alone right now.” A tear fell on her paper and she crumbled it and started a new one. She started out a circle, which eventually evolved into her mothers face. Hall finally stepped out of her house, and he started to cry.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    She finished tacking up her last drawing onto her wall, and realized how much she missed her normal life. She gathered a roll of drawings and headed down the street to the nice side of town. She stepped into an administration office and spread her drawing onto a table. The administrator of the museum took her drawings and gladly accepted her art skills into his art gallery. She returned to her house and continued her drawing. After hours of artistic journeys, she looked at the clock. 4:07 a.m. She had stayed up all night. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. She opened the door and found Hall on her doorstep. “What other conclusion could you draw from you calling me a thousand times and me not calling back?” she asked him.
    “Your phone was broken,” he smiled at his joke, but Amyle remained emotionless. “I, uh, I saw your drawings at the museum, they were really nice. Really beautiful. Except, I really couldn’t find message in them.”
    “My message was get out of my life!” she exclaimed as she slammed the door. Hall knocked again.
    “Do you want to talk about this?” he continued. To his surprise, the door actually opened, just to find an open hand with his ring in it. Amyle dropped the ring, but Hall caught it right before it hit the ground. “What’s wrong?”
    “My life.”
    “What is with the sudden change in mood?”
    “My sudden realization.”
    “Of what?”
    “Of you using me!”
    “What is that supposed to mean?” he shouted through the shut door.
    “It means you were using me to get information out of me!”
    “Where’d you get that idea from?”
    This time Amyle opened the door, “Cops showed up at my house today. The told me I was a suspect and they put me under surveillance. Not a smart move on their behalf, but they also told me that they found a ribbon at the scene. The same one I gave you to hide! You lied to me! And you’ve got the nerve to actually show up at my house!”
    “Look, I was trying to protect you-“
    ”By getting me arrested?” she screamed into his face. “You know what, forget it. I should have known better than to trust you! Cops are nothing but trouble!” She shut the door, locked it and headed to bed, without making another sound the rest of that night.
    Over the next couple days, Hall showed up at her doorstep, with an apology in hand. Everyday this happened, and Amyle simply ignored it. After about a week, Hall stopped. Over a month passed, and it was time for the gallery opening. She showered and pulled her long, black hair into a nice bun. She pulled on a backless red dress with the front rising to her neck, her agent, Matt, picked it out for her.
    “You look gorgeous!” exclaimed Lance, her boyfriend, then kissed her.
    “Thanks,” she responded with a glowing smile.
    “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
    “Oh wait, let me grab my purse,” she walked across her new and expensive loft, entered her room, and grabbed her red velvet hand bad. She then picked up her mother’s small silver locket. She slipped it on and headed back towards her boyfriend. She and Lance walked out the front door and headed toward a taxi. They soon arrived to the gallery, buzzing with laughter, chatter, and criticism. “Let me get us some drinks.”
    “Sure, thanks.” said Lance.
    When Amyle arrived at the bar, she asked for two champagnes, then came a voice behind her, “Better make that three.” Amyle turned around to find herself staring into Jacob Hall’s eyes.
    “Wh-What are you doing here?!” she whispered, surprised.
    “I came to talk to you, of course! And to admire, and kiss you,” he grew closer, but Amyle pushed him away.
    “It’s been over a month. I have a new boyfriend, I’ve moved on with my life. Done and done.”
    “What about the case?”
    “It went cold, that’s all, same with our relationship,” she said as she turned around with champagne in hand. Hall reached out and grabbed Amyle’s arm and pulled her back.
    “He’s dead you know. Woodsworth. He was murdered. Either he was framed with a conspiratorial series with all the other murders, or he did it and someone really hated him. I’ve got the feeling whoever killed him is after you next.”
    “But he had to have committed suicide, he was the only one that made sense.”
    “There are other possibilities.”
    “No there isn’t! It was him.”
    “Calm down.”
    “No! I won’t calm down! My parent’s and my ex-fiancé died! I don’t care if someone falsifies evidence. Someone has to go to jail for that!”
    Surprised, he added, “You might not realize this anymore, but there’s a bigger world than your own. The Amyle I met and loved knew this. But now you’re just as airheaded as every other person in this place.”
    “Sorry I’m not in the field solving crimes, but this is what I do. Art is the only thing that makes sense to me now.”
    “But your alter-ego did help stop crimes. But now, she’s just a distant memory, along with my feelings for you.”
    “At least I have passion! I love my work and the way I do it. Now, I’m actually happy with my life! You made me dreary with memory which I couldn’t bear. Now that’s all in the past. My art is my only life!” she said as she took a step towards him.
    “Your past never leaves you!” he said as he took a step closer.
    “At least I don’t use people!” she said, taking another step.
    “At least I don’t ignore the rules I don’t like!” he continued with another step.
    “Because they are your stupid rules!” Another step.
    “I make those rules to stop criminals!” Another step.
    “It never works!” Another step.
    “At least I protect people!” Another step.
    At this point, they were in each other’s face. They both quickly spun, and marched on. Hall headed toward the door, Amyle towards her boyfriend. “Come on let’s go,” she said as she handed him his glass of champagne. She walked toward a picture, and gazed in admiration. Lance caught up with her and realized the painting was of a heart split in two.
    “Are you okay?” asked Lance.
    “Yeah. Excuse me, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” she said and took off.
    On the other side of the room stood her friend, Mary, and she followed Amyle to the bathroom. By the time she got there, she found Amyle on the couch in the restroom, crying.
    “Sweet pea, are you alright?” she asked in a caring tone.
    “Yes, fine, thank you.”
    “It doesn’t seem that way to me.”
    “Well I am.” With this, she left the bathroom, and told her boyfriend to find another ride, because she was leaving home, alone. She got there and got to her desk, pulled out paper, drawing utensils, and poured out her soul. Hours later, she gazed with pride at her work. The top read:
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    “Temperance is key, anger is a release, pride is a sin, happiness is an illusion.”
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    Then beneath that showed many faces, all with a different expressions. She laminated it and tacked it to her inspiration board. Then, Matt entered, as Amyle sang a depressing tune in honor of her art piece.
    “Incredible drawing and voice! Ever taken classes?”
    “A couple times.” said Amyle with a smile spreading her face.
    “Great publicity! Photographer, artist, actress, and singer! All the arts in one gorgeous bundle!”
    “Thank you.” she said still smirking, than went on singing.
    “How about we order some take out and discuss your schedule. You’re booked. Oh, and you got an acting offer for some love-boat movie.”
    “Sounds nice. What did I decide? Of course when I say I, I mean you.”
    “You said yes. But your role has a singing part. Is that okay?”
    “Sounds great!”
    Awkward silence fell. “Did you hear something in the walls?” said Matt.
    “On or in?”
    “In.”
    “Uh oh,” Amyle gasped.
    “What? What?”
    “Shhhhh! Hall was right,” she whispered.
    “Who is Hall and why was he right?”
    “Shhhhh! Someone is trying to kill me...”
    “Kill you?!” exclaimed her agent.
    “Shhhhh! I know how to handle this. Now shut up, or you you’ll never be able to talk again,” she whispered, crept under the table, listened intently, and gulped loudly. She actually felt afraid. She missed that feeling.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    “What are you talking about someone is trying to kill you?” Matt whispered.
    “I think they want to kill me so I don’t find out the truth,” said Amyle.
    “Who’s they?”
    “The person who killed my parents, my ex-fiancé, his dad, and an innocent bystander.”
    “I thought you said it was Woodsworth. But he’s dead? Then who is it?”
    “I don’t know.”
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    “Hello? Hall? It’s Amyle.”
    From the house phone, Amyle could hear his responding voice, “What do you want?”
    “You were right,” said Amyle, crouched under the table with Matt by her side in the darkness.
    “About what?” buzzed the phone.
    “Someone is trying to kill me.”
    “Well you should have listened to me at the gallery. We got a break in your case. It turns out it was Jake South, the guy you worked with.”
    “That would explain why he killed Dorelane, out of envy for me. And he killed Darin Woodsworth because he knew who killed my parents and his son. But why would South kill my parents and how did he know about me?”
    “He kept a really close eye on you and your house for years. He obviously knew you weren’t missing. Also, it turns out his mom wanted to arrange a marriage for you and her son when you kids were only three years old.”
    “Ugh!” sputtered Amyle.
    “Then his mom was really sad when they denied it, because she really needed the money. So Jake went insane for his mom and killed your parents to have you all for himself.”
    “How do you know all this stuff?”
    “He confessed.”
    “So they arrested him.”
    “Yeah, but two days later, he broke out of jail.”
    She cursed under her breath. “Well he’s in my house. Send someone right now and get me and my agent out of here!”
    “All right. Now calm down.”
    “Hurry up,” she said and hung up.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    On the other side of the loft, there was a hole in the lower right corner of Amyle’s closet. Through it squeezed Jacob South’s body. He had a gun in hand and crept through the loft with light steps. He walked through her room and set foot in Amyle’s main room. On the other side of that room, there stood a table. Under that table crouched Amyle and Matt, waiting for Hall.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    Luckily for Amyle and Matt, Hall waited outside Amyle’s house. As soon as she hung up, Hall rushed to her room. He got to her floor and walked slowly and quietly. He crept through the dimly lit hall and stepped in front of her door. He slowly opened the door, just to find Amyle in South’s arm, with his gun to her head. Amyle stood frightened and cradled in South’s strong arms.
    “Let go of her,” said Hall.
    “Leave. Let us talk it over,” said South.
    “Like I’d actually let that happen. Hand her over,” said Hall.
    “I want to talk to her. Alone!” shouted South.
    “Let go of her!” shouted Hall, as South lowered the gun to Amyle’s torso.
    “Leave or I’ll shoot! You know I’ll do it!” shouted South. Hall didn’t move at all. South pulled the trigger to Amyle’s stomach and she dropped to the floor. Then Hall shot South to the ground.
    “Amyle! Amyle!” Hall shouted as he ran to her.
    One of the policemen who accompanied Hall to her apartment went over to South. “He’s dead.”
    “Call the ambulance! Hurry up! She’s bleeding everywhere!” shouted Hall.
    After an hour, Amyle was boarded onto an ambulance and headed towards the hospital, with Hall at her side.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
    Amyle sat in her hospital bed and finished her soup. A nurse came in with another bouquet of flowers. “Where should I put these?”
    “Right next to the other ones,” said Amyle. The nurse stepped over to the forest of flowers and put down the yellow roses. She handed Amyle the card that came with it and left her room.
    After reading the card, she sighed. “Another bundle from Hall.” Half of the flowers were from her art fans, the other half from Matt, Lance, and Hall, mostly Hall.
    “Knock, knock!” said Matt as he entered. He was carrying more flowers.
    “Gee, you guys need to stop sending flowers!” said Amyle in her sickly tone.
    “How’s the star feeling?” asked Matt as he sat in the chair next to Amyle.
    “Better, but I’m still having constant headaches.”
    “I’m sorry. At least your hand are okay, you’ll need those for your art. Surprisingly, the bullet ricocheted off your spine, but left it unharmed and undamaged.”
    “Yeah, but it still left my left leg motionless,” said Amyle softly.
    “Temporarily,” added Matt, easing her doubt.
    “Hey! How’s my girlfriend doing?” asked Lance as he entered with more flowers.
    “Are all these flowers some kind of joke?” asked Amyle after Lance kissed her.
    “Well I better run, I’m trying to postpone the filming of your movie until you can walk again,” said Matt as he put on his hat.
    “Thanks. I’ll see you later,” said Amyle.
    “Bye,” said Matt, then left the room.
    “Hey, I brought you another CD! The Beatles,” said Lance as he pulled a CD from his pocket.
    “Thanks a lot,” said Amyle then gave her boyfriend another kiss.
    “I should go, too. Someone has to keep up with your loft bills,” said Lance.
    “I’ll pay you back for that. I promise,” said Amyle.
    “Don’t worry about it, you just focus on getting better,” said Lance. He leaned down, kissed her, then left the room. Amyle just sat there for a while, listening to her new CD. Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door.
    “Hey, you’re awake. This is the first time I’ve come that you’re awake. How are you feeling?” said Hall as he entered the door.
    “Better. Exactly how many times have you come over?” said Amyle.
    “Twenty-three. In counting,” said Hall with his familiar grin. “You should probably get some rest. I just dropped by to give you this. We finally found it at one of the old crime scenes,” he said, then opened his hand to reveal a small diamond ring. It was Amyle’s old engagement ring that Dorelane gave her. Hall left and left Amyle staring at the ring. She chuckled a little, then threw the ring into the trash can and dozed off to sleep. She slept with the warm feeling that she had moved on.
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~