Criminal. Prologue: She's crying. She's always crying. At least you think so, because that's what it sounds like anyway. She always has her back to you, you've never seen her face or the tears, but you assume that's what it is anyway. You're always unsure of whether to approach her, weary of who else is in the dimly lit flat, regardless of the many times you've been there. The crying is eventually too much for you, and you take a few steps towards the pale little girl. Your hand reaches for your gun, but as always, it's never there. You stand puzzled for a second or to, you never leave home without your gun. A shrieking sob from the girl sends your train of thought crashing into a wall. Your eyes flash up to her again. Crouched by the fragile looking figure is a man, his back also turned to you, his arm around the girls neck as her crying turns into a frightened bleating. You go to move forward, shout your name and position at the man but find yourself fixed to the spot with no words able to leave your mouth. All you can do is watch. You know how it goes, but you're still forced to watch. The glint of a knife. The now frantic sobbing of the little girl. The man slowly cradling her as he pushes the knife deeper into the side of her mouth, his shaking hands creating a jagged, bloody line all the way to her ear. He repeats it on the other half of her mouth, and now the girl looks up at you. Her face is covered in blood, her body and mind exhausted from crying and struggling. As the man finishes carving her a new smile, her eyes look straight at you. Broken, sunken and gone, they scream only one word. The screaming gets louder and louder, until you awake, sweating and disorientated, sheets sticking to your clammy skin. You mouth only one word as you look around your clothes strewn room, the very same word the girl's eyes seemed to scream over and over again. 'Why?' Chapter 1: Nina knew I'd had my nightmare even before she'd seen the bags under my eyes. 'You know,' she called from inside the bathroom as I struggled sleepily into the first skirt my hand had come into contact with, 'you really should see somebody about this.' I straightened up, midway slipping into a pair of stilettos I was sure were too high for my sleep deprived state to walk in properly. I gave the bathroom door a disgusted look, hoping somehow Nina could see it. 'Oh okay, how about I book myself into a therapist and then hand my resignation into work? That's brilliant Nina, a real smart ass idea.' I scowled, as the bathroom door kicked open and Nina popped her head around. Even when soaking wet and dripping on my shoes, her dark hair hung somewhere around her waist, and pale skin shone with glistening drops of water. Dutifully ignoring my sarcasm, she instead chose to scan over my face with large, blue eyes. 'Wow, not all the concealer in the world can cover up those bags,' she blinked, staring at me, almost dead pan. Sticking up my middle finger, I rushed out of the bedroom, cursing as I spotted the time on the grandfather clock that Nina had somehow managed to 'acquire.' Damn, I was supposed to have been there ten minutes ago.

The Dalliance Box. The Dalliance. They say #life is too fleeting for things to be left unsaid. Yet millions of people all over the world commit this very sin, every single day for most of their short and curious lives. Much needed words and thoughts and beautifully strung sentences are left hung in the air to whither and die before they can ever be spoken. Every person needs to say these things, or their heart grows heavy. They forget these words, exiled to the darkest corners of their minds to rot and fester. Sometimes you forget them completely, and sometimes, they eat at you from the inside out until your nothing but the mask of somebody that used to be. I never made them say the things they did. I simply delivered them.