Daughter of the Dammed and Damaged

Runaway Train

     "WHERE IS SHE?!" Jim shouted. He slumped down on the sofa. "I do everything for her. I keep her in school, I love her. Why is she gone?" Jim didn't know what he did wrong- he wasn't exactly heartbroken; but he was angry that you would leave him.

     Sebastian rose to reason with him. "Uh, I think you might have...." He knew he had to chose his words carefully. "Scared her off?"
"Pfft. Ridiculous. What've I done to upset her?" Jim scoffed

Sebastian sighed. Jim really did not know what was acceptable. "Well, you did shoot her. I think that would warrant running away."

"She wasn't listening to me. I had to do something. If she had kept it up, worse would have happened." Jim said.

A slight tinge of anger crept into Sebastian's voice, "You don't just shoot someone, Jim. She had her music up to loud. There was no reason for you to do that." Sebastian winced. He would probably get into trouble for that. "Sir."

     "What was that?" Jim asked condescendingly.

     Sebastian sat for a minute, calming down. He issued a reply, "I think you may have overdone it with shooting her, sir."

     "Hm. I suppose you may be right. What do we do now?"

"Let's just wait a few days. She'll come back." Sebastian said, and hoped to God you stayed wherever you were hiding.

-----Meanwhile, back at the ranch-----

     "Why would you come to me?" Sherlock asked quizzically.

     "I heard dad- Jim talking about you, and I heard about you on the news. I thought- I mean I think- you could protect me?"
     You sipped your tea, and relaxed. It had some honey in it, and you smiled slightly at the taste.

     "What did he do to you?" Sherlock asked. He wondered what Jim would have had to done to make you run away.

     You sighed begrudgingly, and rolled up your sleeve. You carefully unwound your bandages, and hidden beneath them was a long scar. It traveled directly across your shoulder's side, and left a large indent. Both John's and Sherlock's eyes widened.

     "Did he do anything else?" Sherlock asked. He had occasionally hit you, but you had figured that was a normal form of discipline. You lifted your shirt up anyways, and your stomach and sides were littered with bruises.

      John sighed. "Uh, (y/n), was it? I think you staying here is a good idea." John seemed almost horrified with your condition.
     "Do you have any other injuries or anything?" You shook your head no.

     "Don't be afraid if you need to talk. I'll be here." John looked at Sherlock, hoping he would stay away from the topic of your father. He could see it made you uncomfortable.

     "Ah. Yes.... Do you want food or anything? We could get.... dinner." Sherlock stumbled over this sentence, he knew you were in a delicate state, and he tried to be inviting.

     "Yeah, I'm starving." You said.

-----Back to Jim-----

     "Mr. Moriarty, we scheduled this meeting so we could talk about your daughter, (y/n)." Your homeroom teacher, Mr. Kingston said.

     Jim sighed, and tried to sound happy. "Of course, Mr. Kingston. What is it you wish to discuss?" Jim hated these meetings. All they were was a series of boring questions and statements like 'where did (y/n) get those bruises?' and 'we're worried about (y/n)'s home life' . So unnecessary.

     "Right. Jim. (y/n) has not been at school for the past few days, and honestly, we are worried. Is there anything wrong?"

     "Of course not. (y/n) is just a little sick, that's all. I must have forgotten to call it in." Jim smiled his fake smile yet again.

     "Mr. Moriarty, I am worried about her, and I would not for one instant believe your story of her being 'sick'." Mr. Kingston had
taken on a dangerous tone.

     "Mr. Moriarty, I don't know what you've done to that girl, but I want to know where she is."

     Jim didn't say anything. He simply smiled, stood up, and walked out.