Hide and Seek

Who's There?

Private Peters was half shocked and half relieved that the knock had been for her door. She was desperate for a job, otherwise she would have to shut down her office and live on the streets. 

She glanced around hurriedly, brushing some papers into a not-so-tidy pile in a lame attempt to clean up her desk space. She pushed her creaky chair away from her desk and stumbled towards the door, playing a game of dodge the obstacle with boxes and photographs.

She whipped the door open and gestured for the person to enter, a large smile plastered on her face. The sudden burst of fresh air caused paper to fly everywhere across the dim room, making Private Peters cringe. 

The man stood at the door did not look impressed. He was dressed smartly, in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie, he looked as though he'd just been sent on a mission from the FBI. His dark hair was slicked back, and his facial hair trimmed neatly. He had a stern expression on his face, eyebrows slightly drawn downwards and his lips curled subtly into a frown.

"Pamela Peters?" He questioned, his voice growling as though he was about to turn into a lion.

"Aye, how can I help you?" She answered his question with another question, which seemed to frustrate him. She wasn't sure what other answer he was looking for. The smile on her face had started to falter, he was making it difficult for her to maintain a positive attitude.

"I regret to inform you that-"

"Stop" She cut across him suddenly, not wanting him to finish his sentence. She did not want to be hearing that she was about to get kicked out.

"Your sister and brother in law have been killed in a car crash." He continued his sentence anyway, clearly not bothered that this feeble P.I had given him a command.

She let a breath loose, she wasn't losing her job. She had to do a double take to realise what FBI Man said.

"My sister died? In a car crash? Who even are you?" She had so many questions and couldn't ask them fast enough.

"I'm Marcus Vent from Social Services. Your sister and her husband were struck by a drunk driver. Unfortunately, they didn't make it. Your niece did, though." At the final sentence, his head turned to look at his right side, glancing down at a small fragile girl holding a dirty teddy bear.

The little girl had scrapes and bruises everywhere, her left arm in an egg white sling and her hair looking as though it hadn't seen a shower for weeks.

Private Peters had nothing to say, she was clueless. What was Marcus expecting her to do with a child? She could barely support her own life let alone another.

"I didn't even know I had a niece, mate. What am I meant to do with her? Are there no other relatives?" Panicking, she desperately tried to find any way to get rid of the gremlin that was stood in front of her.

"You are her next of kin." He replied with a grunt.

"Have you seen the state of this place? The only other life it's able to sustain bar mine is bacterium! How will a little devil offspring live here?" She exclaimed, attempting to use her poor life as an excuse.

"The social services department has evaluated you, and therefore decided you are a suitable guardian. You will receive weekly support income of some amount, and I suggest that you clean up this place. Or your own building will have to kick you out." He handed Private Peters a stack of papers, presumably to sign.

She was unsure that it would be a good idea, until she realised a child can't be too difficult to train to clean and organise files.

She looked at Marcus in the eyes, grinned, and asked

"Where do I sign?"