bhavika.

[edit]

<center>

my reflection, dirty mirror
there's no connection to myself
i'm your love, i'm your zero
i'm in the face of your dreams of glass
so save your prayers
for when we're really gonna need'em
throw out your cares and fly
wanna go for a ride?

she's the one for me
she's all i really need
cause she's the one for me

emptiness is loneliness
and loneliness is cleanliness
and cleanliness is godliness
and god is empty just like me
intoxicated with the madness
i'm in love with my sadness
bullshit fakers, enchanted kingdoms
i never let on, that i was on a sinking ship
i never let on that i was down
you blame yourself, for what you can't ignore
you blame yourself for wanting more

she's the one for me
she's all i really need
she's the one for me
she's my one and only

smashing pumpkins</center>

[edit]

june 3, 2005 -- your first kill is always the hardest.

she stared at the asphalt, wary of the devil splitting the pavement and swallowing her into the pits of hell. the fiend queen waited on the curb, hunched over with a cigarette hanging low in a thick lipped grip. eyes rolled up, looking toward the decrepit brick building across the street. like a wolf waiting for the little lamb to creep away from his brick shepherd. oh, but this was no ordinary lamb. this lamb went bump in the night and had a sickeningly red fleece; stained from the blood of others. with his razor sharp teeth and knives for hooves. unfortunately, they now had someone who went bump back.

she saw him break away from the shadows, creeping across the darkened building fronts like a ghost. slack-jawed, the butt of her palm readjusted the sharp bone structure; dropping her cigarette to the ground in the process. transfixed on the dwindling stick, watching it burn out. reluctance weighed down her body, guilt for something she hadn't done yet aching in her bones. up on her feet, she was the shadow that followed you; the flicker at the corner of your eye. except she was not a figment of michael peterson's imagination.

( michael peterson:
murder in the first degree: two counts
nadia chevchenkov
elise winn

rape: two counts
nadia chevchenkov
elise winn )

"all that is neccessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing," she repeated the quote to justify her act as she stood over the fightened man.

"please...please don't kill me," he sobbed.

"tell me, how many cops doesn't take to shoot a man?"

"wha-what?"

"none, he killed himself."

BANG.

she'll never forget the way his brains painted the side of the building, or the way his hand felt as she wrapped his fingers around the gun. she stared at the body with an odd, vulgar curiousity until her legs willed her to move away from the demon. the gutter god that had ruined so much for so many. the godslayer, the hand of god and devil together walked from the alley with cigarette in hand. she walked two blocks to the car where her partner waited, but veered off the path and headed for the bright lights that lined the streets.

LA's finest indeed.

[edit]

the korner diner was the only place between her apartment and the station that was open twenty-four hours, seven days a week. nestled on the corner of fifth and broad, the old-fashioned dining car had been in business since 1952, and had just recently shifted management from the mom and pop of yesterday, to an Armenian boxer and his parents. from the drunk frat boys, to the girls working the grind, they all went to the korner diner for a late night meal or early morning milkshake.

bhavika favored the diner because their coffee was stronger than starbucks and their food packed more grease than a mcdonald's quarter-pounder. she sat in her usual spot at the counter, hunched over coffee and her breakfast at midnight while inspecting a week's old paper. she rarely kept up with the news, they fed people too many lies and too much bad news. despite her profession, where death seemed to chomp at your heels and still manage to precede your steps (leaving a wake of death and pain in his wake), she had avoided getting depressed or anxious; atleast not more so than anyone else.

"need more coffee, detective?" eyes didn't faulter from her paper, where she was engrossed with the obituaries. "detective?"

"wha'?"

"more coffee?"

"oh, shit, no, i'm good, thanks," she sputtered, caught off guard and unwillingly dragged from her fixation on the small black print and occassional picture. "ya know, when someone young dies, more often than not it isn't a peaceful passing. overdose, suicide, murder, car accident," she mentioned absently to the waitress while she passed. bhavika's curiousity was far from pure, rather perverse and morbid; it came with the job.

her fingers combed through her hair, leaving it to stick up in every which way. they trailed down the back of her skull and settled at the base of her neck. so much to do, so little time. she fished out her money, leaving a generous tip like she always did; much to her waitress' excitement. "bye detective!" she chirped from the back while refilling a pair of construction workers' coffee cup.

"later, nancy."

back to the grind.

<font color="#6633FF " size="1">[ September 17, 2006 06:47 AM: Message edited by: vodka slurs ]</font>

[edit]

may 21, 2005

"detective markus!?" it was a distant rumble to the detective, caught up in the static that filled her eyes and poured from her ears. "detective, can you hear me?" her eyes rolled to the right and it took her a moment to realize that she was really seeing red; blood having spilled into her face.

"fuck. i got shot," matter-of-factly, the event just now registering in her brain.

"detective! you need to stay awake for me, okay? c'mon..." the paramedic didn't sound frantic, despite her failing vital signs. wires and cords tangled like spiderwebs around her. artificial life. but everything was slowly becoming static, her body weighed down by an unseen force. "we're losing her!"

and then there was nothing.

twenty minutes earlier.

bhavika teetered on the uneven pavement, eyeing the two teenagers she and her partner had stumbled onto over a body. they were frantic in their explaination of why the body was there, that they had nothing to do with it.

"well, you're holding a knife," she groaned, "there is blood on it. If we test that blood will it be his?"

"nah man, nah. we ain't do shit! mah ma is gonna kill mah ass," he lamented, dropping the knife and rubbing dark hands over his face. he didn't look any older than fifteen.

it had been purely bad luck that the two detectives stumbled upon the boys, as it wasn't usual that they patrolled, however, the two had been returning to a crime scene just down the alley from the two when they saw the pair hovering over the body of another teenage boy, soaked in blood with a knife. the boy was dead and the other two looked to be the killers.

"okay, maybe you two didn't do it. but we still need to take you guys in, it's our jobs..." malachy had been her partner for a year, seven years her senior, the pair was nothing alike. while he was happily married with seven children and very catholic, bhavika was single, with no desire for kids and not so hindu. "so can you guys put down the knife for us?"

she saw it happen, everything had slowed down while the first boy slipped his hand behind his back. she watched him draw it, she watched him fire. "he has a g--" she heard her own words cut off when the bullet made contact with her chest, sending her reeling back. she heard malachy fire, she heard the other gun drop. she stared at the sky through a haze of once upon a times and what could have beens, while her partner frantically called for back-up.

"fuck, vika, shit. hold on, the bus is on the way," his voice was filled with an urgency that bhavika couldn't mimick, with lethargic limbs that seemed as heavy as the throb of her heart. "just...just hold on, kiddo."

four days later.

her body burned when she attempted movement, aching from what felt like years of dreamless sleep. "what the fuck?" her brain and her body weren't on the same wavelength; while her body was awake, her brain was still caught up in slumber.

"you're awake," a deep Slavic purr of words rumbled from the corner of the room, where her mother and father sat.

"i'm alive."

"that too," her father's voice chimed in a warm baritone, but soft chuckle. his accent however differed from her mother more bollywood than moscow.

"how long?"

"four days."

"did you stay the entire time?"

"since the moment they called."

she turned her head, facing the window so that they wouldn't see the tears that streamed down her cheeks. despite all their disagreements, the fact that they had come touched her.

"you didn't have to put your life on halt for me..." she let the words crawl over her shoulder, rather than face them through the tears that brimmed her eyes.

"bhavika," they chided, her father's voice rising above his mother's, "you are our life."


<center>"and i would have stayed up with you all night
had i known how to save a life"
the fray</center>

<font color="#6633FF " size="1">[ September 17, 2006 07:22 AM: Message edited by: vodka slurs ]</font>

[edit]

her phone was vibrating across the coffee table, she heard it rattling the bottles. guinness, jameson, captain morgan; bottles in a myriad of shapes and colors decorated the table beside her bed/couch. she had never believed in buying a bed when she could just sleep on the couch, though more often than not she was asleep in her office rather then her home. she grumbled, while her hand tapped around for the phone until fingers curled around the thin black cell phone.

"what?" she grunted, irritated that someone would dare call her at... eyes cut toward the clock on top of her television-- eight o'clock.

"vika! it's orion!" her little brother was far too cheerful. "myplanecomesinattwothisafternoonyouaregonnabether eright?"

"slow down, tiger. two?" balled fists wiped away the remnants of the night before; smearing eyeliner and lipstick across her face.

"yep! two o'clock, p.m. terminal F1," her brother chirped into the phone. orion markus, seasoned flyer at age seven.

"i'll be there man. you ready to party?" chucky cheese style, of course.

"yeah!!"

"all right, i'll talk to you later. love you oreo!"

"love you too viiiiiika!"

she waited until she heard a dial tone to hang up, setting her phone alarm and rolling back over to sleep off what she could of her hangover in the two hours she had left before she needed to start cleaning up; hiding evidence of her deviance.

<font color="#6633FF " size="1">[ September 17, 2006 09:00 AM: Message edited by: vodka slurs ]</font>

[killjoyed]

<center></center>

shiva slumped against the outside of the payphone, fingers fiddling with the metal-grooved cord, whitewall fist surrounded by sandshot skin gripping onto it.

"hey what's up, miss detective. just wanted to confirm our uh, appointment tomorrow at seven-thirty in the morning. why the fuck're courtdates always so early, huh? shit. anyhow, i forgot to tell you, i know you're bringin' me some suitable clothes or whatever, but you'll prob'ly need to bring shoes, too."

her lips pursed by the receiver, glancing down at her feet and the disorienting swirls of black and white checkers, warped across canvas.

"..ehh 'cause mine aren't really like, yah know.. proper. and can yah bring some cigarettes, too..?" she wrung her hands around the phone, finger hovering over the hangup lever. "my boyfrrrenton is off to greece for a few days, and i'm just kinda edgy, yah know? cigarettes would help." or some pot. or smack. for chrissake, something.

"alright, sorry about such a long message, see yah tomorrow. takeiteasybye."

a smack of index and middle fingers cut the connection as she hooked the phone up, cutting a swivel of weakboned hips across the street to her apartment building, up towards the hell of animal zoo and suicidal family that anxiously awaited her arrival.

<font color="#6633FF " size="1">[ September 17, 2006 07:22 PM: Message edited by: killjoyed ]</font>

[edit]

after a day in court she came home to find orion seated on the floor in front of the television staring at a blank screen.

"oreo, what are you doin'?" brows arched up in curiousity as she moved further into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind her.

"tryin' somethin'."

"tryin' wha'?" she approached her brother at a slower pace, stopping a foot or so away from him. hip cocked out and hands anchored on the sharp bones that jutted out from beneath the low rise of her pants.

"to turn the t.v. on," he groaned, irritated with all the questions.

"you gotta use the remote."

"i can't."

"why not?"

"i'm tryna use my mind!!" his hands were thrown up in defeat, finally accepting he didn't have psychic abilities.

"how long have you been tryin' to turn it on?"

"two hours."

"jesus," she grunted, "hey wanna go get some ice cream or something?"

"yeah..."

"maybe you can try and move the sprinkles onto your ice cream, man."

"don't patronize me."

same shit, different day.

[edit]

<center>You sit there in your heartache
Waiting on some beautiful boy to
To save you from your old ways
You play forgiveness
Watch it now ... here he comes!

He doesn't look a thing like Jesus
But he talks like a gentleman
Like you imagined when you were young

Can we climb this mountain
I don't know
Higher now than ever before
I know we can make it if we take it slow
Let's take it easy
Easy now, watch it go

We're burning down the highway skyline
On the back of a hurricane that started turning
When you were young
When you were young

And sometimes you close your eyes
and see the place where you used to live
When you were young

They say the devil's water, it ain't so sweet
You don't have to drink right now
But you can dip your feet
Every once in a little while

You sit there in your heartache
Waiting on some beautiful boy to
To save you from your old ways
You play forgiveness
Watch it now here he comes

He doesn't look a thing like Jesus
But he talks like a gentleman
Like you imagined when you were young
(He talks like a gentlemen, like you imagined when)
When you were young

I said he doesn't look a thing like Jesus
He doesn't look a thing like Jesus
But more than you'll ever know</center>

She heard the song on the radio and grimaced. "What kind of shit is this?" Brows lifted with curiousity and her gaze rolled toward her brother who was strapped down in the passenger seat.

"It's The Killers."

"The Killers?"

"Yeah."

"Great name," she grumbled, scratching at her jaw before leaning out her window to yell at a cabbie holding up traffic. "C'MON ASSHOLE GET MOVING!"

"Why are you always so angry?"

"M'not angry."

"You sound angry," he chirped from his seat.

"Well, I'm not," she repeated with a slow forming frown.

"You sure?"

"Yes," she groaned, eyeing him while traffic was still halted. "I just get stressed, that is all," she explained with elaborate, unnecessary hand motions.

"Well, you ain't gotta take it out on the rest of us."

"Ain't isn't a work," she corrected.

"Don't," he grumbled.

"That's better."

[edit]

rarely did the good detective get anxious, however, dr. david moore's office seemed to have that effect on her. everything was neat, nothing out of its place. walls were stark white, decorated with awards, diplomas, and a poster of a dog with something that bhavika didn't find humorous in the least, despite that being its purpose.

"miss markus?"

her attention was torn from the irritating poster and toward the doctor sitting in front of her. he reminded her of waldo. tall and thin with hideous glasses and a mess of brown hair. instead of wearing a suit, he wore a grey sweater vest and black slacks. she would have preferred a suit.

"detective," she corrected, eyeing him for a moment before she turned her attention back toward the poster.

"right, sorry, detective markus," he reworded, scribbling something across his notepad. she didn't see it, but she could hear the pen scratching the paper. "why don't we talk about your childhood...?"

"how about we don't? i was hugged enough, no one was beat, my parents were very loving and doting. end of story," it came in a slur of accents, from russian to a punjabi flare and a street punk drawl.

"um...all right. another time. well, what do you want to talk about detective?" he asked, peeling his glasses off his face to settle them on the end table beside his chair.

"why the fuck do you wear those ugly glasses? you don't need them," matter-of-factly, arms were crossed under her chest, causing her jacket to peel apart ever so slightly and show off the blur of ink across her collar.

"how do you know that?"

"well, when i came in you weren't wearing them, but you were reading a book. which could mean you were far-sighted, except you were able to read the tattoo on my arm, before you put them back on." simple enough.

"very good."

"so why the fuck do you wear them?" she reiterated, after he had avoided answering her.

"why did you get tattoos?"

her silence was enough to answer both his question and her own. arms unfurled and palms came to rest flat on her thighs. he had won this round. with a huff she leaned forward, eyes rolling upward to watch him.

he claimed his victory with a razorblade smile. "so, tell me about your childhood."

reluctance ached beneath flesh as she sat upright only to slump in the seat. "well, i was born in Los Angeles..."

[edit]

she slumped on the couch, fingers absently combing through his hair and rubbing his scalp. after a series of nightmares, she had finally gotten orion to sleep on the couch with his head on her lap. the closeness helped, she thought. she stared down at her brother. he was her chance at redemption. her parents had called a day earlier, asking if he could stay with her for longer, they had someone problems both financially and relationship-wise that they didn't want to have him dealing with; bhavika was not at all reluctant to agree. so now she was faced with raising her brother, nearly nineteen years her junior. she had enlisted him in school earlier in the day (he started on thursday) and taken him shopping for clothes and toys.

she was frightened. frightened that she would fuck it up, that she would ruin him somehow. he was so perfect, so innocent and she was so different. imperfect in everyway and far from innocent she prayed that it didn't rub off on him. they didn't even look alike. his was fair haired and blue eyed while her hair was black and eyes a muddy green. he was everything she wished she could be but knew she never would. he was her salvation, her redemption and she was terrified she would mess it up somehow.

but she would do her best and try her hand at parenting her brother. if it could be called that. bhavika preferred guiding. "i'm not gonna ruin you," she whispered into a crown of blonde hair, "i promise. i'll take care of you."

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ September 26, 2006 10:47 AM: Message edited by: vodka slurs ]</font>