I looked down to the man beneath my feet. I stood above him, gun pointing at his head and my finger on the trigger. I expected to see his eyes burning in betrayal, in pain, in anger, in sorrow, and in fear. But they weren't. His green eyes were clear of any dark emotions, the only thing I saw were his tears. Tears that this was not how he wanted life to be. He thought he had failed me, forced me to become what I was.

I'm sure my green eyes mirrored his. Just as how our blonde hair was the same shade, and disheveled from the fight. I wanted to say I regretted this, to pull my hand away and toss the gun aside. To pretend that the past had never happened, to make another choice somewhere before and avoid all this.

The small kitchen table was lying on its side, and the two chairs were knocked across the room. The kitchen itself was a mess, dishes were lying in the sink, and empty bottles were cluttering up the counter. Everything was strewn across the floor; I wasn't sure the last time anything had been cleaned. This place looked nearly identical to when I left a year ago. Only the number of bottles was different, there were more.

Still looking into his eyes, I felt something trail down my left cheek. I lifted my hand and it came away wet. Was I crying? Why was I crying? This man deserved no sympathy from me; he was earning his just reward. Yet a small part of me was hesitating. That part was the scared little child he had crafted and manipulated, the little girl who had been beaten every time he stumbled home drunk. The girl who had to look after him and clean up his vomit night after night, attending classes during the day where she had to pretend everything was perfect at home.

I remembered all the times I had to skip school and stay home to hide my bruises and black eyes. To keep my friends at a distance so they didn't ask to come to my house after school to play with dolls and watch tv.

I was the one to care for my brother while he lay dying in his bed because this man didn't bring home enough so I could take him to the hospital, if we were lucky he came home with anything at all. I was the last one to hold his hand, to whisper his favourite bedtime story as he closed his eyes that final time. And I was the only one to shed tears of grief as his small body was lowered into the ground. After his death I had stopped talking.

My grip tightened ever so slightly, my knuckles were turning white. I steadied myself with a deep indrawn breath, holding it to me like a child clutches their favourite toy in sleep. I narrowed my eyes and felt myself disconnect to what was happening. To any onlooker I was sure they saw my eyes lose their light, becoming the eyes of the dead, for that's what I was – a living corpse.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but he had no chance. I didn't want to hear his voice, his excuses or his reasons. I simply wanted him to disappear from my memories. To erase and forget everything that had happened since my mother left me in his care when I was five years old and my brother an infant.

I pulled the trigger and felt the recoil in my hand. The sound of the bullet firing rang in my ears. I didn't even flinch when the blood splattered upward and across my face and the rest of my body. It felt warm. I didn't dwell any longer here. I let the gun drop from my now slack grip and heard the dull thud it made against the floor.

I turned away from the corpse, ignoring the blood and brains that spread thickly across the carpeted floor. I walked stiffly, feeling more hollow than before. There was no reason for me to stay here. I could go where ever I wanted. I was free.

So, why did I feel like just curling into a ball and falling asleep? Escaping into the world of dreams like my brother had done.

As I passed over the threshold of the house of my past one final time, I never looked behind me as I closed the door, just heard the soft click of the latch. I walked away, placing my hands in my pockets, and simply headed down the street. It was night, and the road was deserted, so no one stared at the girl spattered in fresh crimson blood.

I didn't know where I was heading, how long it would take, or how I would get there. I simply walked with my head down and my shoulders hunched. I failed to notice the wind. I failed to notice the flickering street light. And I failed to notice the goat with horns that was sitting in the shadows of the front lawn, drawn close by the smell of freshly killed meat.

XXXXXXXXX

"Tsk, tsk." The soft tutter roused me instantly from my drowsing. I hadn't walked far last night before I curled up on some stairs in the middle of Chinatown. It had seemed like a deserted store front, a safe place to sleep for a few hours. But now I looked up into the face of a Chinese man with oddly colored eyes, short raven black-blue hair to his chin, and wearing something similar to a Japanese kimono but not quite. "Why don't you come inside for some tea? And maybe a wet cloth to wash the blood off, the smell as been upsetting my animals all morning."

He gave me a smile that purely spoke of a professional businessman and led me inside. I would have bolted if not for the stiffness in my muscles from curling up against the cold last night. There was also no reason for me to run, where would I go anyways?

I refused to allow my mind to dwell on last night. It had been a long time coming, and we had both known it. I was still wondering if it had been a dream and I may still awake to find his eyes glaring into mine as he drunkenly beat me until he passed out or I did.

I nearly tripped over myself as I looked around. The place was bigger than I had thought. The front room was arranged with a couch and a couple of chairs around an oval shaped tea table. The air was thick with the smell of some kind of incense, which helped to relax my body the further I wandered in. It was also darker than I would have imagined. Small cages and tapestries lined the walls, animals roved around freely, and eyes stared at me from where ever I looked. And when I strained my ears I swore I could hear many people muttering and laughing in the back rooms. Just how big was this pet shop? I was beginning to wonder if it truly was a pet shop at all.

"Please have a seat while I prepare the tea. I assure you the animals won't bite unless you bite them first." He gave me a smirk this time as he left through a door I had failed to notice in my first look around. I was awe struck. Could this place really exist? And in Chinatown no less!

I looked to the couch and gulped. Lying easily on one of the pillows was some kind of goat-thing with horns and what looked to be tiger paws. It snarled at me and I gulped again. The Chinese man had said nothing would bite me if I didn't bite first, but suddenly I wasn't so sure. This… thing… didn't seem too friendly. Before I could do anything more though it jumped off the couch, suddenly the door banged open behind me, causing me to spin around.

"Hey! D!" A tall blonde man burst through the door wearing a pair of jeans and a somewhat ratty t-shirt. He had a gun in a shoulder holster and a police badge clipped to his belt. The goat-thing from the couch had run towards him and was gnawing on one of his legs. "Dammit T-chan! Stop trying to eat me!" He yelled and roughly shook the animal off.

"My dear detective, must you always enter so noisily? A nice quite knock once in a while may prove less, painful, then entering this way." The Chinese man, D, said in an overly dramatic tone while his lips twitched up. He seemed to enjoy whatever was happening.

Before the blonde man could look up and see me, D maneuvered himself so as to block my appearance. I wasn't sure why, until I remembered his comment about the blood. I was still covered in it from last night; being seen by a policeman now would be… I frowned. Would it be bad if I was caught with my father's, now cold, blood on my hands? I didn't know, but for some reason this guy D didn't want me to be seen.

Standing behind the man I saw the small gesture he made behind his back. I didn't understand it until I felt something tug on my pant leg. It seemed to be a small raccoon. It chittered at me and continued to pull. D was saying something to distract the detective again and I took it as my cue to leave. So I followed the raccoon into another door I had failed to notice.

This one lead to a long hallway with many other doors, and the voices I had heard earlier were even louder in my ears. I looked around for the raccoon and instead found a little blonde curly-haired girl in a fluffy pink dress.

"Follow me." She tugged insistently at my pant leg when I hesitated. In the end what else could I do? The detective and D were blocking the front exit, I had no clue if there was a back exit, and I had no idea how big this pet shop was. I took the girl's hand and let her lead me through the twisting hallway.

"My name's Pon-chan, what's yours?" She asked once we had found an empty room and I had been forced to sit in a high backed chair. She was sitting on the matching ottoman with a bowl of lukewarm, pinkish water set on her lap. There was nothing we could do about my clothes at the moment but having a clean face and hands made me feel good.

I stared at her, just realizing she was expecting me to speak. I looked around for something to write on, but of course there was nothing.

"Don't you speak?" She asked when I simply looked at her. I shook my head 'no' and that made her laugh. I gave her a questioning look. "There was this boy who used to come play with us a lot, his name was Chris, he looked like the blonde man only smaller, and he didn't talk either."

I opened my mouth into a small circle, effectively saying 'oh'. Then I looked around some before raising my hands, palms up. 'Where is he?' I was saying.

"He went to live with his aunt and uncle after he learned to talk again. I've been lonely without him, so has Leon and Count D." Pon-chan looked about ready to cry, sniffing and rubbing at her nose. For some reason I opened my arms wide and she flew into them, leaving the bowl of water to clatter noisily to the floor.

I stroked her hair as she tried her hardest not to cry but still a few tears leaked through. It was only a couple of minutes before she pulled back, scrubbing at her cheeks to get rid of the tear streaks.

"I'm… hiccup… sorry." I merely petted her head in an 'It's okay' gesture. She looked at me with her wide eyes unblinkingly before stating, "You're really nice you know, even if you don't seem like it at first."

I didn't know if she was being serious, or trying to be funny. Either way my shoulders shook lightly in a motion similar to laughing. I hadn't laughed in years. I was surprised I even knew what laughter still was.

"I'm gonna get something to clean up this mess." She frowned down at the water, like it was supposed to know it shouldn't be on the floor, "I'll be back." Without another word she jumped off my lap, her Victorian-esk dress swishing easily about her ankles. I simply watched as she ran from the room, leaving the door open and letting me here muted conversations. I couldn't make out any of the words, but I really didn't want to. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes.

XXXXXXXXX

I felt my hand grip the gun tighter, my knuckles were turning white… I felt the recoil… But suddenly I looked down and it was not my father who was lying crimson beneath my feet… It was my brother…

I bolted upright, and since I had forgotten I was in a chair this caused me to lean forward so I was practically kissing my knees, gasping for air. I wanted to scream in terror, but my throat had seized up. I clutched it, trying to calm myself, but I was panicking. How could it have been my brother?

A gentle hand on my shoulder had me leaping from the chair and landing ungracefully on my ass, staring up at the man who was called D. He looked down at me with an expression warring between worry and amusement. Worry won.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you, but you seemed to be having a bad dream." I snorted at the understatement, my heart finally settling into a normal beat again. "The detective has left, would you still like that tea?"

I nodded my head, and accepted his hand. As he pulled me up I saw his nails were long but manicured to perfection, his hands were also very smooth. Was he really a man? Following that thought was my brain instantly comparing his hand to mine. Even after having them cleaned the nails were ragged from my biting and they were covered in scratches and scars. I had never had a manicure before, but imagined it would feel lovely to be able to have nails that didn't look like they belonged to a sailor.

As I settled onto the couch, this time without the goat-thing, I was handed a cup of tea in a cup that felt like it was made of nothing more than whisper thin paper. I handled it carefully, not wanting to let go of the warmth but worried about cracking something so delicate and beautiful.

I gingerly took a sip, noted it was much too sweet and simply held it. All the while watching D across from me, and he in turn was watching me. The silence between us was more of a companion, and was broken occasionally by the loud chitter of a bird in a cage or ruckus from the back of the shop. My eyes were just beginning to grow heavy again when D set his tea cup down with a light click and folded his hands in his lap, looking at me with curiosity.

"My name is Count D. I run this pet shop in my grandfather's absence while he is out searching for new pets. Did you come here looking for a new companion Miss…?" He looked confused, followed by slight embarrassment as he realized we had never exchanged names.

I looked sullenly into my cup of tea, saying nothing, and knowing he would eventually come to the same conclusion as everyone else. I was mute. And to most people, mute equaled stupid. But I still couldn't help but think of my name.

'Nyein.'

"Ah, quiet one, an appropriate name for you." He smiled as my head whipped up. How could he have known? I didn't speak, but he had seemed to read my thoughts. "So, are you looking for a companion Miss Nyein?"

XXX

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing PSOH – I love the series! – so I hope I didn't screw it up for other fans. I am a complete review junkie so please comment! I will try to continue this story but I am also writing another fanfic at the same time (stupid brain doesn't like sticking to one story at a time)…

Brain: I heard that! *smacks skull*

A/N: This ain't the first time I've complained to you so can it! *brain shuts up* Any who~ If you have any ideas on where this story can go, or if you really have a character you want me to put in pm me the details and I will try my best to make it work. (Sometimes reviews are brilliant inspiration!)

Till next time! *waves*