~ Life Can Only Get Worse ~

'' Chapter One - Cold Case ''

"Y/N ! Keep running . . ! Go!" A girl yelled to you, coughing and laughing. A boy was by her side, clinging to her and sobbing silently. Screams of misery could be heard from inside the two burning trailers as hands pounded on the doors and windows, begging for mercy. A demonic screech was let out as the pounding stopped; it was over. 

'' One year before-hand - December 12th, 1966''

A loud smack rang through my ears as I jolted awake. 

"Y/N, your first assignment. Now, I'm sure we all are aware you are a woman. You should be in the kitchen, but here you are. I won't argue with the government, I will however assign you this." My boss sighed, pointing to the file he had slammed down. What a fucking misogynist. .  I thought, exhaling sharply. As I looked through the file I noticed it was almost empty. 

"What the hell? Why is it so empty?" I frowned, confused.

"It's a cold case. That's the least I'll do to try and meet a woman's standards." He grinned, walking off. Fine, that fucker wants to assign me a cold case? I'll solve that shit real fast. What a little bitch. I sighed, composing myself. I got up, brushing my legs off. Pants were frowned upon for women, but considering I was somehow a detective there was a social exception. I grabbed my keys, storming out of the building. While starting up my car, I turned on the radio. Elvis Presley played, great. I slammed the volume knob down, sighing. I followed the map I had to the remote location noted. It took about an hour, but I got there. Sighing, I got out of my car. I trudged through leaves and dirt and reached two trailers. I knocked on the one to the lower right and the door opened. A man stood there dressed in a tank top and shorts. He looked fucking musty, I won't lie. 

"H-Hello . . sir. I'm Detective Y/N . . L/N with the local sheriff's department. I've come here to investigate a s-string of . . reports filed for child a-abuse and . . or neglect. M-Mind if I c-come in?" I smiled, trying to keep myself from vomiting. What the fuck was that stench? It smelt like . . bodies. 

"Of course darling. Do come in." He opened the door fully, revealing a family of his. As I entered, the stench got worse yet. .  they just sat there like nothing was wrong. The man put on a long sleeved button up shirt. "I do apologize for my attire, I was feeling under the weather." He continued to babble but . . I could only focus on what looked like the eldest child. She looked about eleven or twelve but . . in no way seemed that age. She was dressed in a dull pink dress and her hair had been tightly tied into double buns. Who the hell would make a child dress like that? She looked absolutely petrified every time the man moved, but somehow maintained to hold a grin.

"I'm Fat Roundy, this is my family. My wife here is Claire." The woman waved nervously smiling. 

"A pleasure to . .  meet you, dear." The woman responded, her voice sounding . . familiar. Holy fucking shit. Was this Claire? Like. .  my Claire? I waved, trembling. 

"As is over here. Who are these little angels?" I smiled waving at the little ones. Jesus fucking christ, what kind of family am I with?

"I'm-" The eldest began but was silenced. 

"This is Canned; our oldest. She just turned twelve." The man interjected grinning. She observed the cue, beginning to smile.

"Hello . . ! I am Canned. It's truly a pleasure to meet you~!" She waved trying to hold her tears in; I could tell. See, I'm a sibling of six; all younger. As the oldest, I can tell. All of the others were introduced. There was Dirk; the nine year old. Hashbut(?); the six year old and the sister; I never caught her name. . . 

"Anyways, err.. I need to interview the children; alone. I'll start with Canned if you wouldn't mind." I said, leading the girl outside.

What the hell did I get myself into?

(END. 718 words not counting this!)