She Will Be Mine

Chapter 1

Desiree Hunt gathered her briefcase as she left her apartment on that sunny June morning when her life changed forever. The sun was shining high and proud as it hit her skin for the first time that morning. The bright rays made her hair shimmer, and the tell-tale red streaks made their way to the surface. She was dressed casually for the morning. A pair of skinny jeans hugged her body like a second skin, wrapping around her perfectly. She wore a jean jacket to match the jeans, and a pink blouse that accented her clear blue eyes. Sketchers completed the outfit, bright pink sketchers. She was walking in a hurry, her destination clear in her mind. She walked down the same street she had been for the past 10 years, and the world seemed to be exactly the same.
The city was slowly starting to wake up by the time she made it to her spot. She hailed a taxi and gave directions to the subway station. She could see birds circling in the sky above her, flitting and singing their morning songs, singing without a care in the world. They flew over her and around the city skyline. She followed them until they flew out of sight, and then she refocused on the city before her. It was full of the regular hustle and bustle that she loved so much. As the cab pulled over to the side of the road, she smiled at the city that was hers.
She walked down to the subway station just like on every other morning, and rode it until she made it to the center of town. The sky was blue that morning, with no clouds to blot out the sun that was crawling over the tops of the buildings. She made a note to herself to bring a camera next time she came this way, which would be the next morning. Hunt was a "mediocre photographer", at least in her eyes. She had been marvelously complemented on the photos she had taken, but she never pursued that dream. My life is complicated enough as it is, she thought to herself as she walked up the 35 stairs out of the subway. She liked riding the train in the early mornings, when she was the only one aboard. It was the one time of the day when she could really think and have no interruptions.
As soon as she hit the street above the subway, she was bombarded with noise and the sound of cab drivers racing around. The smells of the small vendors caused her very empty stomach to announce its presence. Smiling, she rubbed her shoulders as her neck craned to catch sight of her favorite breakfast vendor. It was nowhere to be seen. Des walked down the length of the subway station, and eventually, her nose caught something amazing. Frank 'n' Furters was the most famous vendor station in the whole city, and for good reason. They served just about anything you could think of, whether a British migrant or of a Muslim practice. Frank 'n' Furters had been fighting to survive when the owner, Larry Furter, came up with the ingenious idea. A 5th generation Italian immigrant, he had prospered when the store first expanded to this new idea. Many larger companies had struggles to outwit the Furter family, but with no success.
The Furter family was composed of 4 people; Papa Furter, standing a total of 5'0", Mama Furter, the brains of the operation, and their two children, Mikey and Glenda, 1 and 3. The pair basically lived of that little vendor, and seemed to be a very happy family. Des made a mental note to visit them whenever she had the chance, and pick up their very delicious cinnamon rolls, which alone weighed at a whole 2 pounds. The things usually lasted as two meals for her, and they were pricey, but she was more than happy to help the family out.
"God Mornig yong laady," Even though Papa had lived in the city all of his life, he wasn't able to pick up the English language like the rest of his family.
"Morning Papa," he refused to answer to anything else, but Des liked it.
"Mikey!" he hollered at his three year old. "Fix up dome cinamoon rols fer this yong laady, wud ya?" Des smiled at his converted language. Growing up in the poor part of the city, Papa had been introduced to many different ways of saying things, and generally converted everything to make it his own. "On de Hoose," Papa gestured before Des could interrupt. "You wok too harrd at tis job her Desiiray. You ned a Man fer tat," Des smiled and grabbed her food with a thank you. She patted Papa on the arm, and when wasn't looking, threw a twenty into the tip jar. They were her family away from home, and she wanted to help them.
Walking on, Des dug into her gooey cinnamon roll with delight. The frosting coated her upper lip quickly, making a handlebar mustache. Des grabbed the napkin and wiped it before anyone important noticed her.
She loved the city. All of the hustle and bustle of it was somewhat calming. Having never lived anywhere else but here, having it be so quiet would be more unnerving than calming.
Finishing her coffee in three quick sips, Des finished the first cinnamon roll and put the others away for later. Something told her she would need them.
Walking over to her favorite Caribou, she picked up her second cup of coffee for the day. She knew it wouldn't be her last, her regular cup of coffee consisted of it being black as the night, no cream, no sugar, thank you very much. It was consistently the cup she kept by her side, and only under huge moments of stress would she drink anything stronger. Everyone questioned her on her insanity of such a strong drink, but she always brushed it off.
She continued on her way to the building that was her home away from home, the job that swept her up off of her feet every time she entered it. She had worked hard for this positon, and she wasn't about to give it up as easily as others thought.
As she walked down the sidewalk of the morning, she could see that the world was slowly waking up along with her. The lights in the apartments were flickering on, and the children were going on there way with the morning chores. She waved to Joe Tenner, the city mailman as he made his rounds. Father of 8, the 49 year old worked hard to make ends meet. He worked as a mailman in the morning, a firefighter during the nights and weekends, and a bar owner every other spare minute he had. But he was a cheerful man, and invited Des over for coffee or sweets whenever he saw her. She rarely accepted, swamped with whatever work had just thrown at her, but it was the thought that counted.
"Mornin' young lady," Joe tipped his hat to her as she walked by. "Anything interesting going on in the big city?"
"Same as always Joe," Des smiled at him. "Same as always,"
She hurried on, not wanting to be late, and flagged the cab that was across the street. She usually walked, but today was one of those days. She hopped in and he took off towards her beloved building.
Now that she was off the street, Des relaxed and enjoyed her coffee. Coffee had been a childhood thing that she had always remembered. She took to coffee at age 6, and drank her signature cup every morning. Friends had jokingly remarked that coffee stunts your growth, but at her height a couple of inches didn't matter one way or another.
Slinging back the dregs, she paid the cab driver and climbed out onto her street. She ran to the Starbucks that was across the street and replenished her cup. She quickly downed the steamy drink, finishing it before crossing the street back to her building.
​Des climbed the steps up to the building that was her home away from home, and walked her skinny 5'2" frame into the doorway. The wind nearly knocked her off her feet when she finally got to the top of the steps. Just another typical New York weather day, she thought to herself as she opened the beautiful glass doors to the Empire State Building. Walking down the marble hallway to the elevators, she sensed something was off. The security guards looked grimmer than usual, if that was even possible. In the 10 years she had worked here, not one word had she heard uttered from their lips, on or off duty. Her gait picked up in speed. She felt like she was practically running by the time she made it to her elevator. Hitting the worn down button that signified "up", she caught a man sprinting towards her. His briefcase trailed behind him, tie following. Shirt untucked, hair a mess, and tennis shoes untied, Charlie Michaels looked just about the same as he had when she had seen him walking through the High School graduate line. His cap hadn't even been on straight that time either.
​10 years had passed, and yet still Des was accosted with butterflies every time she saw him. His blond hair shimmered in the light in just the right way; his abs rippled under his shirt, and that smile, God that smile, it made her knees weak when he flashed that by.
​"Hey Des!" She was brutally snapped out of her journey down memory lane by that voice. Focusing on Charlie once more, she realized that he stood right in front of her by now.
​"Have you heard the news? It's all over!" Charlie was practically yelling at her. His brow was furrowed as he noticed she wasn't following him. "How could you have not heard? Was your head under a rock last night? It happened again,"
​And just like that, her perfect morning was ruined. With those three words, Charlie had successfully ruined her good morning. She hadn't even made it to her desk yet!
​"Are you serious? Give me details! Have the police contacted you yet?"
​Charlie nodded. "They were knocking down our doors at five this morning. This time he struck during the night. It seems that every time he gets better at it, and the neighbors only noticed something was off this morning by the front door being ajar in her house. His message was written in blood on the mirrors again to," Charlie wiped the coffee running down his auburn beard that was trying to show on his chin.
​"Then why the hell didn't you wake me earlier?!" Now Des was mad. This was her case, and yet no one had the decency to wake her when something did happen with it!
​"Has anything changed with it?" Des barely finished the sentence before Charlie was shaking his head. "Ugh, nothing ever happens. How am I supposed to solve this thing when I have nothing to work with?!" She threw her hands up in the air, frustration oozing into the sky.
​And just like that, her pager went off. It was the chief. Reading the small red letters that lit up in that little box, her morning was further ruined. Urgent! The message read. It blinked red at her as the elevator light binged. She looked at Charlie as she took off for the stairs instead. Climbing the brutal 50 flights to get to her office would still be faster than that cranky elevator, and she personally didn't know what she would do if she was left alone with Charlie in that thing. She sent a hand over her shoulder and waved goodbye, but didn't bother to look back as she began to take the stairs two at a time up to her floor.