Hex had always been quiet. People still know her by her face, even if she doesn’t say a word to them. Hex was the last victim of the serial kidnappings in 2004 when she was seven. She was found four years later. Now 18, her face is still on magazines, a mark of a past that Hex would rather forget. Every year on the anniversary, her photo shows up again and again. She never gave an interview, and neither had the person that found her. She was found by an FBI agent she knows as Chris. Hex stopped talking to him when she was 16, but he still sent her cards on her birthday. After her dad left, Chris wanted to take care of her, but her mom insisted on doing so herself. My mother thinks Hex became wild over the four years she was away from her, but the truth is that Hex has always had a part of her that wanted to lash out. After Hex was found, she started taking fencing, archery, gun safety and shooting classes, and kickboxing. After her dad left her mom for his slut, she took on even more activities, like rock climbing, martial arts, and dancing. Dancing didn’t seem like something she would’ve enjoyed, but it helped her with flexibility and expressing herself in a way that didn’t involve violence. Hex felt in control when she danced and when she went to the shooting range. Control, defense, and awareness were the things she started working on when she was rescued.
Everyone wanted to know what happened. She tried erasing the memories, but they made an imprint in her mind.
Hestia was outside, tossing the ball to her dog, Bear, when the ball rolled under the fence. She told Bear to stay put and slipped through the gate. She was scanning the pavement and ran into Paul. He was holding the red ball that had rolled under the fence.
“Excuse me, sir, I think that’s my dog’s ball,” she said meekly, shrinking under his hard gaze.
“Where do you live, little one?” he asked. Hestia pointed at her house and he walked over and tossed the ball over the fence before turning sharply and grabbing her arm in a tight grip.
“What are-“she started, but he covered her mouth with his other hand and dragged her towards his car. He opened the trunk and pulled out a piece of rope as long as her arm. Holding Hestia’s wrists together, he quickly bound them and picked her up over his shoulder before tossing her in his trunk. She passed out in the darkness, and when she came to, she was in a small dark closet-like space. There was a bucket to go to the bathroom in, a thin mattress, and a fold up chair. Hestia was startled by the door opening and saw the man kneel beside her.
“Remember me? I’m Paul.” Hestia scrambled away from him, knowing he was a bad man. “It’s alright Sarah,” Paul murmured to her.
“My name isn’t Sarah, its Hestia,” she said. He smiled and shook his head like he was entertained.
“It isn’t Hestia any longer. Now it’s Sarah. And you don’t have your old family anymore. Now you have me. I’ll take care of you,” Paul said gently, reaching over and running his fingers through her hair. Strands of it got caught in his fingers and he stared at them, a small smile forming.
“I just want to go home,” Hestia whimpered.
“Your home is here now, Sarah,” Paul replied.
The entire experience was horrific. She tried everything to forget, and her mom has gone through therapists like a knife through softened butter, but nothing can help except being in control and noticing everything. The rescue is the one thing she actually wanted to remember. After a while, she adjusted and played the role of Paul’s daughter, Sarah. She even forgot her own name.
Paul and Sarah were on the rug in the living room, playing Spoons when the doorbell rang. It was storming outside and Paul’s wife, Dinah, went to answer the door. Paul glanced at me and she smiled, a signal that told him she understood.
“Stay here Sarah. If anything happens, you take the gun and go,” Paul whispered. She nodded and Paul went to join Dinah at the door. She went upstairs and leaned over so she could look into the solid metal art piece that hung above the dining table. Sarah reached in and her thin fingers curled around the automatic they kept there. Sarah slid it into her pocket, checking that the safety was on first, and pulled her shirt down so it was covered. She listened to the neighbor explaining why he’d come.
“The phone line was dead, and I need to call my wife to tell her I’ll pick up the kids next week instead of this week,” he explained, his voice muffled. Sarah began to back up. If his phone line was dead, chances were that their phone was down too. She edged into the office and picked up the phone. The dial tone sounded in her ear. The neighbor had been lying. Sarah froze and slowly crept down the stairs. She clung to the wall and watched the neighbor. Paul met her eyes and her lips formed the word “liar” silently. He almost imperceptibly nodded and turned back to our neighbor before pulling the gun out of his holster that he always wore. The neighbor smiled and shook his head.
So many things happened at once.
“You figured it out,” the neighbor said. The man moved quickly and knocked the gun from Paul’s hand before yanking his arms behind his back and cuffing them. When the gun skittered across the floor, the safety was off and a single bullet was released with a loud bang, hitting Dinah straight in the head, blowing it to bits. Paul had been looking at Sarah, giving her a look that said “run away.” Sarah watched as parts of her mother scattered and let a small shriek of “Mother” escape her lips before she spun and ran. Tears made the halls blurry, but Sarah knew the route to the back door. She heard the footsteps of the man pounding behind her, but she got to the door first. As she was about to open it, his arms wrapped around her.
“I’ve got you, it’s alright. It’s over now,” he whispered. Sarah struggled against his chest, then fell limp, slumping over, and small sobs escaped her lips. He held her until she relaxed, then set her down and turned her to face him. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Sarah Miller, sir,” she answered, staring into his kind eyes. He regarded Sarah for a moment before shaking his head.
“What is the name you had four years ago?” he asked. Sarah hesitated, trying to think of where she had been four years ago.
“Hex?” she said, the foreign word coming out sounding like a guess.
“Do you mean Hestia? Are you Hestia Blackwater?” he asked her. Hex froze and her eyes filled with tears. They began to trickle down her cheeks and she stifled a cry.
“I think… I think that’s me,” she whispered. The man knelt beside her.
“My name is Chris. I’m going to take you outside. There will be people that want to ask you questions, but you don’t have to answer. I’m going to take you to see your parents and sister,” he told her. She nodded and he led her to the front door with a hand on her back. He led Hex out into the dark night, which had been made lighter by the flashing of red and blue from police cars. He opened the door to his black truck and she clambered up into one of the leather seats.
“I’m taking you home,” Chris told her. Hex nodded and looked straight ahead, out the window.
A/N: In order to condense this to only 5 entries, I'll be combining chapters so this is technically chapter 2 (and/or more haven't decided)
Hex was in her personal weight room. After about ten pull ups she dropped down and brushed her hands along her black leather pants before picking up her phone. Her best friend, whom she considered family more so than her actual family, had texted her twice.
“Be there in ten minutes,” she typed. Stripping off the sweaty clothing, she hopped into the shower, turned the spigots, and quickly showered. Her hair is down to her hip, but can still wash and condition it in under two minutes. She could wash her entire body in under three. Hex hopped out and grabbed a towel quickly drying herself and wrapping her hair in the towel. Hex yanked on her clothes and took the stairs two at a time, grabbing her messenger bag and keys. Hex breezed out the door and hopped into her car and pulled out smoothly. She was at his house in 8 minutes. She hopped out and walked up the drive of the house.
As soon as her feet touched the first step, Bo threw open the door, his smirk making Hex smile and roll her eyes. He bounded down the steps and dragged her up them.
"Did you hear what happened?" Bo asked, pulling Hex through the door and shouldering it closed.
"Um... no?" Hex said, confused. Bo glanced at her and shook his head in amazement.
"Georgia Landers, the girl that disappeared a week ago, was found in the same ditch Paul used to... dispose of the other girls," Bo told her. Hex froze.
"Do you think a... fan... is copying Paul's murders?" Hex asked. Paul had killed every girl that he thought wouldn’t live up to his dead daughter’s memory. Hex had gotten lucky. She played the part of Sarah too well. Bo shook his head and shrugged.
"I don't know. Just promise me something. Don't talk to him," Bo said, weaving his fingers into hers. Hex forced a smile and nodded. Bo sighed in relief.
"I won't... for now," Hex promised. Bo shook his head in disbelief.
"I should've known that you would be trouble from the moment I sat down at your lunch table. I could've saved myself a whole lot of trouble," Bo teased.
Hex sat alone, just how she liked it. She was a freshman in high school. She sat at her table and ate while reading her collection of Grimm fairytales. She heard the chair across from her scrape across the floor. Glancing up, she watched a tall, dark-haired boy shifting her backpack to the chair next to him. They sat silently, staring at each other until Hex finally broke the awkward silence.
"Who told you to sit here?" she asked.
"I didn't realize these seats were taken. Please, introduce me to your friends," the boy replied sarcastically.
"That's Book Bag, this is Geometry Book That Will Be The Weapon at Your Murder Trial, and this is Mister Notebook," Hex replied without missing a beat.
"So can I just call them Bag, Death Object, and Note? And what do I call you, other than violent?" he replied.
"I'm Hex," she replied, defeated. She grinned. "I could ask the same thing. What do I call you?"
"My name is Brody. Call me Bo, please," Bo replied, offering his hand. Hex reached over and tapped his ring finger knuckle twice. Bo looked confused.
"I don't shake hands," Hex explained, grinning.
"Well now I know why people sometimes stay away. I guess it takes a certain kind of crazy to handle you. Lucky for you, I'm that kind of crazy," Bo told her, winking.
Bo was talking, but Hex had zoned out, remembering their first meeting.
"Sorry, what?" she asked.
"I knew mentioning Chris and Sterling would get your attention," Bo said. Hex shrugged, not bothering to deny it.
Sterling was Chris's son and he'd just started interning for the FBI. Even though Hex didn't talk to Chris anymore, she stayed in contact with Sterling. Throughout the trial and after the ordeal was over, Sterling still supported her. Hex stopped talking to Chris because she felt too oppressed by her family and him. She moved out of her mom's house after filing for emancipation. Her mother couldn't handle Hex's "destructive behavior" so she agreed. Her mother was constantly trying to make herself look like a victim. She only cared about her image, not her family. Hex didn't mind since she'd built her support system with Bo and Sterling. Hex even got checks from Chris every time he sent a birthday card.
"So what were you saying about Sterling?" Hex asked Bo.
"I heard that Chris and Sterling are working on the copycat case. They wanted them to work on it because they were already familiar with it," Bo replied.
"Hrmph. Do you think they'll contact me? I mean, I am the only person that really knows the most detail," Hex said, hopping onto the bar stool and resting her forefingers to her lips. Bo shrugged.
"Hell if I know. Anyway, I've been working on this stuff already. I'm trying to connect details of this case and Paul's together. It'd help if you'd look over some of it," he told her, resting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it softly before stepping back and leading her to his personal "office." It had been transformed into numerous pictures from crime scenes and profiles. Bo had used yarn to trace the connections between cases and the entire wall was covered in the chilling makeshift collage. The hairs on Hex's neck stood up and she rubbed her arms.
"I shouldn't have asked you to do this, Hex," Bo said. "You don't have to help."
"I... I want to help. It took four years to help me, maybe there's a kid that won't have to wait that long," she explained, nervously twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. She chewed her lip and surveyed the collage. "Can you... could you take the pictures down? I don't want to mess up your work, it's just easier to think without the yarn connecting things. I need a fresh slate," Hex said, gesturing at the wall.
"I can do something better than that," Bo replied with a smirk. He went to his desk and picked up a large stack of papers. "Here are your papers. Go nuts."
"I went nuts a long time ago," Hex responded.
******
Hex got back to her house about four hours later. She pulled out her keys to unlock her door, but paused. The door was ever so slightly ajar. Hex rested her hand against it and pushed slightly. Her other hand was wrapped around her hunting knife she kept in her purse. She crept into her apartment and pulled out the knife. She held it like she was going to stab someone in a shower at the Bates Motel, but adjusted her thumb to add more thrust. Hex heard the thumping of her heart in her temples and she took a deep breath to calm herself. She felt eyes on her back and spun around, driving her knee upward, and straight into the intruder’s crotch. Sterling fell to the floor and rolled, gasping in pain.
“That was not the welcome I expected, Hex,” he choked out. Hex was standing there, a hand pressed to her mouth.
“Holy shit! I am so sorry! I thought you were an intruder! I could’ve killed you!” Hex cried, setting the hunting on the end table and kneeling beside Sterling and offering him her hand.
“Fucking hell, Hex, I think you broke my genitals,” Sterling groaned, accepting her assistance. “I was going to ask for your help on that kidnapping case of Georgia Landers, but if the only help you can provide is busting my balls, my dad already does that. Can I get some ice… or frozen vegetables… or just anything really?”
“I am so sorry… Just give me a second, I think I still have ice cubes in my freezer,” Hex muttered, scrambling to her feet and slipping into her kitchen. She grabbed a plastic zip bag and dumped half of the ice cube tray into the bag. She zipped it up and walked out. Sterling had managed to stagger to the armchair and fall into it.
“Here. Jesus, Sterling, I am so fucking sorry,” Hex apologized again, handing the ice to him. Sterling shook his head and set the ice gently on his crotch.
“I’ll be fine, really. I just need to know if you’ll help with the case,” he replied, biting his lip.
“Will I be working with your dad?” Hex asked. Sterling hesitated, thinking his answer through. He finally sighed and nodded. “If… if I do want to help, do you think I could talk to Chris face to face first? And I want Bo to help. He already started making connections.”
“I can call my dad. He could get here in ten minutes. And you can call Bo- Brody and ask if he wants to help. My dad will want to talk to him too, so just invite him over,” Sterling replied. He slid a hand through his dark hair and forced a grin before pulling out his phone. He was still speaking in a slightly strained voice. Hex couldn’t help but have just a tiny moment of feeling proud. She quickly shoved that feeling aside and dialed Bo’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“What’s going on now? How much money do you need for bail?” Bo said. Hex glared at the phone.
“Hello to you too, jackass. I don’t need bail. Sterling showed up at my house a little while ago and I almost killed him. I think I broke his genitals. Anyway, do you want to work professionally on that Georgia Landers kidnapping case? Come over, because Chris will want to talk to you,” Hex said in a rush, barely stopping to breathe.
“Um… okay then. What time do I need to be there?” Bo replied.
“Chris should be here in about ten minutes. Try to be there as close to that as you can,” Hex replied. “See you then.”
Sterling had finished his call with Chris and he flashed a thumbs-up at her.
“Everything is all straightened out with my dad. He’ll be here soon,” he told her she nodded.
“Brody should be here soon too,” Hex replied. “I’m surprised you came here, Sterling.”
“Come on, Hex, you know how these people think,” he said.
“These people? Are you talking about the victims or kidnappers?” she snapped.
“Shit, Hex that was the wrong thing to say. I’m sorry, we just need your insight. You were with someone for four fucking years. You know where they hide and how the manipulate people,” he said, running and hand through his hair and looking at her with a pained expression.
“Of course I know how they manipulate people. I mean, they manipulated me, right? I’m an expert when it comes to being insane,” she replied.
“Hex, look, I said I was sorry. I don’t want to fight. Can we just forget about me being an asshole and just talk?” Sterling begged. Hex sighed and sat down across from Sterling on the couch.
“I’m sorry. I am just so sick of people saying I’m crazy or feeling bad for me because I spent four years with someone that treated me like their family and taught me how to defend myself. My actual mom should be the one that they feel bad about me living with,” she said, her shoulders slumping and her head dropping into her hands. “My actual mom is probably the most controlling, self-obsessed woman to ever exist.” Hex felt an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into it. A second later, both Sterling and Hex were startled from their positions by a knock at the door. Hex jumped up and quickly opened the door.
“Bo is in the building,” Bo said, strutting into the room. Hex stood by the door and stared at him like he was a unicorn as he pranced about
“Because Wash plays with his dinosaurs. Do you have to ruin everything?” he said, flopping on the couch. Hex turned around and shut the door.
“I often do ruin things, it’s true,” she replied, shoving Bo to one side so she could sit between Sterling and him.
“Haven’t seen you in months, Bo,” Sterling said, standing and grabbing Bo’s hand and then doing the weird back thump thing that guys always do. Hex raised an eyebrow and looked up, watching the guys talk about the Game of Thrones season finale. Hex watched Game of Thrones as well, but they were talking about Cersei’s hotness, so she lost interest. Another knock on the door startled everyone into silence. Hex stood again and answered the door. Chris stood there, nervously fiddling with his pocket knife. Hex stared at him.
“Um… h-hi. It’s good to see you again,” she stuttered. Chris smiled and pulled her into a hug. Hex breathed in the familiar smell and smiled to herself, tears making the hallway swim. She closed her eyes and leaned closer to him, sliding her arms around him.
“Hey, Hex,” he whispered. She let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and pulled away from Chris’s embrace. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and squeezed her shoulder before slipping by her to get inside so she could close the door.606Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtNWZqtc1AA
606Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn41j4Lv6u7
A/N: Sorry it's so long! I need some backstory and stuff so I decided to go over the top.
ns 172.70.126.59da2
and then Add to home screen.