A/N: Hey there! This is my first time posting an Elsanna story... actually the first time posting any story on this account. I have this whole story outlined... so I hope everyone likes it! And, despite there not being any Anna in this chapter, I'm like 99.99998% positive that I'm going to have her introduced next chapter. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not great with updating... I am crammed with a whole bunch of shit usually, so I hope you guys don't mind if updates aren't regular or anything. Sorry! :) Anyway, thanks for reading/clicking on this story! I hope you like it.

Oh yeah, I've got no clue how Witness Protection Programs actually work. I just kinda fit it to the story... sorry?

Warning: M for a reason... this kinda made me sick to write... it's not pretty. Very gory (at least, in my standard of gore...). In future chapters, there will be attempt of rape. I'm not going to write it in detail, and many people in previous stories have told me that I'm good at being discrete about the rape scenes that I do. I'm sorry if it turns you off of my story, but it needs to be said before anyone gets hooked and is disappointed when I put it in the warning before the chapter it happens in.

Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen! Unfortunately...

Elsa sat, poised as ever, doing her homework at her desk. She's been home schooled for the past year and a half, and her family's house is secluded off from other houses, so she doesn't really have many friends.

Not to mention that, really, she was the loner at school, the one with no friends, the odd one out, at the school that she used to go to.

Her family's not very well off, and, being a rather odd fourteen-year-old, she can't find herself to mind the secludedness of her family. When she did go to school, she was picked on for being the "poor family" out of everyone. Her family isn't the richest, leaving her to help around the house when her parents are out to work.

She knows as soon as she's old enough, she'll have to get a job. She really doesn't mind, as long as she doesn't have to be social. She's not very good around people.

Hearing her little brother cry out, Elsa sighs, shooting her arms out to push herself away from the desk she sits at. Her new little brother, Oliver, though she just loves to call him Olaf, is barely six months old. She takes care of him most of the time, her mother having to work as well as her father to pay the bills.

Olaf was a surprise to their family, causing a little more trouble with the bills than any of them intended. Elsa pretends not to overhear her parents heated discussions over how to pay for the water and electricity bill when she lays in her bed at night. She just closes her eyes, attempting to remain oblivious to their nightly arguments.

Elsa stands from her desk and turns to look at her little brother's crib. He lays, gurgling up at her with a tired frown on his face. She smiles down at him and reaches up underneath him, pulling him to her chest.

"Hey, little man, are you tired?" She whispers into his hair. "Is my little Olaf tired?" She lays his head right above her left breast, letting the little boy feel her heartbeat. She walks around their room, bouncing him lightly as to put him to sleep. He yawns against her chest, and she smiles down fondly at him. Slowly, the little boy, her little Olaf, slips back into sleep.

She's always so thankful that he's a quiet baby, not one to scream and fuss over many things. Not to say that he doesn't get frustrated at times, like most children do, but he's the quieter of the bunch of babies that she's ever met.

Though his sleep is sometimes light, this sleep that she's managed to put him under is full of little gurgles and mumbles, nothing that makes much sense, if any at all. She wonders if he's dreaming of summer, his favorite season. She continues to hold him close to her, thankful for her only friend that she's had in such a long time.

She checks the time, seeing that it's dark out. The time always seems to fly from underneath her when she's doing her work or holding her little brother. Seeing as it's almost time for her parents to be home, she tries to finish up her work, still cradling her little Olaf.

Her family has a ritual, has had this ritual for the past six months, give or take, now. Their house isn't in the safest part of the city they live in, though the city really isn't that safe to being with.

Recently, the past six months, give or take, there have been a couple of murders somewhat close to their house. As secluded as the house is, they do have neighbors, and the neighbors around the block, about ten miles from their house, were killed. The police know nothing of the whereabouts of the kills, nor if the killer is a he or a she. They know absolutely nothing, and it's left the neighborhood in shambles. Her neighbors aren't the first to be killed. Killed, from what she's heard about the deaths, isn't even the right word. Mauled? Brutally slaughtered? Those are more appropriate from what little she's heard about these killings, from what her parents have said. The people are gutted like fish, but not before they're brutally beaten with whatever is available to this killer.

Apparently, the killer hasn't killed enough people to be dubbed a "serial killer" yet, though he seems to never leave anyone behind alive.

So, her family started a ritual. Whenever her parents came home, as they came home together most of the time, they would happily call out, the classic "Honey, I'm home!" to assure her that the people coming through the door were, in fact, her parents.

So when Elsa sees the headlights to her parents car, she awaits for the call that will never come. The front door slams open, and, in her fright, she stands from her chair at the desk, clutching little Oliver to her chest tightly. Fear grips her gut, and she hopes maybe that her parents just forgot to call out.

She abandons that hope when she eyes the closed door to her and Oliver's bedroom and hears the clashing of different items, some of them falling to the floor, it sounds like, and others smashing into objects and breaking. She hears a muffled scream, and quickly realizes that this isn't a forgetful moment on her parents part.

She scrambles over to the other side of their room and quickly but silently opens her closet door, slipping inside, still clutching to her sleeping brother. She, as quietly as possible, takes one of the coats off the hanger, slides down to the floor, and throws the coat over her and her little brother.

"Shit!" She hears bellowed from an unknown male voice, anger and craziness woven into it. She closes her eyes as her heart pounds against her ribcage, threatening to escape on it's own. She hears pounding footsteps coming closer to their bedroom, almost at a leisurely pace. She prays to any and all gods out there that she and her brother will be safe, that this man might leave them be.

She swears that hear heart is going to give away their position with the way it's pounding when she hears the door to her and her brother's bedroom creak open. The agony of knowing who the thing were being thrown at is evident in the way she hears some of the groans from her parents.

She holds her breath and prays that her brother doesn't wake up and scream when she hears the footsteps in their room, walking around in a measured pace.

"Where's the little baby?" The voice coos softly, crazily. She swallows back her absolute horror when she hears the door to the closet slam open. "Is he in here?!" He shrieks, as if he's playing hide and seek and becoming tired of the game. He growls when he sees no one and leaves the door open, turning away from the closet, no longer concerned about that when he see's her father crawling on the floor, bloodied and battered, toward the land line phone. He chuckles darkly before walking out of the bedroom and assessing the situation.

Elsa peeks just over the top of the jacket, careful not to be seen, just to witness the man with the dark mask over his features, with the exception of his nose and mouth, crush her fathers fingers beneath his boot, brutal to the end. She hears the crunch of bones and feels tears gather in her eyes as she watches the man beat her father, her mother being out of her sight. She tries to cover her brother's ears so he doesn't hear the piercing scream that she feels should come. It doesn't, and, when she looks back out to her father between the clothes in the closet, she watches his head lull back from, seemingly, being hit in the face. Unconscious now, she watches as the evil man stalls before bringing out rope and tying her parents up to the ceiling from the fan. If she weren't in the position she's in current, she wouldn't believe that it could hold their weight, but, as she watches her parents hang there, she finds she can't think about anything. She just watches the horror play out before her.

She feels like she's in a 3-D movie theater; she's never gotten the privilege to actually go to one, but she thinks that this is what it would feel like. She can't seem to attach herself to the situation at hand. The way her parents hang limply from the ceiling, to the way the man takes out a knife, she can't, for the life of her, feel like this is actually happening. She looks as closely as she can, trying to see if she can find anything that she can tell the police about this man that's, slowly but surely, killing her parents.

She watches the knife with wrapped attention. She sees that, it's not just a knife, it appears to be made out of ice. She shivers at the thought. Who would think that ice could do what this man seems to be doing with it. She watches as he takes out some herb of some sort, wafting it under her parents nose, waking them instantly.

She swallows loudly at the man's chuckle, not liking the devilish tone that it's taken. He drags the ice across her fathers skin, cutting him open with it. Another dark chuckle. Another cut.

With each cut the man makes against her father's skin, it appears to be deeper than the last. Her father groans out in pain, and her heart lurches with the known fact that she has to sit and watch her parents die. She wants to cry out in anguish, pure fury, but she knows one sound will mark the end of, not only her life, but her little Olaf's life. She won't risk that. Ever.

She counts the cuts, the gashes that the monster makes on her father. Seven, another groan, eight. The man turned monster stabs the non-melting ice into her father's arm, and he holds back a screech of anguish at the feeling. Elsa can see the pain written clear as day on his face, and it makes her want to cry out as well. She watches the blade pull from her father's body, blood gushing, adding to the already soaked floor.

The monster turns to her mother, but her view is shielded by the monster's back. So, instead, she focuses her attention on her bloodless father, she pretends to hear his labored breathing and slowly-thudding heartbeat. She watches his face as his eyes lock onto the floor before the snap up, locking with hers.

Her breath catches as his eyes try to reassure her that he's fine. Tears finally well up in her eyes as she gazes at the dulling eyes of her father. Her chin wobbles unfaithfully; her nose starts to run. She watches his lips move slowly, smiling at her through his pain. When his mouth forms those three little words, her world feels like it will collapse. It's his goodbye, she knows, and it kills her. I love you. She clutches to her little brother and mouths the words back, letting him know that she can let him go, even though she really doesn't want to. She tries to convince herself that she can let him go, but it doesn't seem to be working.

Tears leak down her cheeks, and she curses her eyes for betraying her. Drop by drop, the tears run down faster than the blood down her father's arm. She hears her mother cry out as the sound of flesh meeting flesh draws her from her tears. She pray's they'll dry on their own, refusing to let any more fall.

Elsa doesn't know which is worse, not being able to see her mother being beaten, or watching her father's life slowly fade. She can hear every sound of ripping flesh along with the dark chuckles that reverberate around the house. It makes her sick, but she holds back from it, not allowing herself to utter a peep. She looks away from her father's closing eyes to watch her little brother, cradled in her arms, safe as could be, completely oblivious to the world outside of his dreams.

She'll be silent for him, her little Olaf.

She brings her lips to his forehead, listening to the soft sounds of his breathing, thankful that the coat over her body was enough to cover the two of them from the monster's prying eyes.

She didn't notice the sickening sounds weren't around her anymore, but she takes her eyes off of her little man, glancing up to watch as the monster plunges the non-melting ice knife into her father's stomach and ripping up in a strange motion.

She thinks that she'll finally blow their cover by puking or crying out when she watches her father's guts fall to the floor sloppily. She screws her eyes shut and buries her head in the soft skin of her little brother's stomach, smelling the soft, baby-scent radiating off of the infant.

She doesn't dare look up when she hears the gasp of her mother, along with the sickening sound of ripping flesh followed by a slick plop.

Don't cry, she begs herself. He'll leave soon, just don't cry. She feels sick all over again, not able to get the sickening sound out of her head. She doesn't miss the quick sound of footsteps all throughout her living room, she just ignores it. She ignores everything until long after the man turned monster is gone. She just holds her brother close and prays for the tears to not come. Not yet. She's not ready to deal with this.

Soon enough, the metallic smell becomes to much, and she calls the police, without looking at her parents. Right about now is when she wishes her parents made enough money for a cell phone, then she wouldn't have to get out of the damn closest. She could just sit there, call the police, and stuff her face back into her baby brother's stomach.

The call ends quickly, the police having picked up enough information to know that the murderer had stuck again but this time was sloppy. He left survivors, though one was only a baby.

When they get to the house, they quickly close it off to the public, and usher the children, Oliver still in Elsa's tight but soft grip, to the police cars, making sure nobody is watching. Officer Kai, as he introduced himself, drove them to the police station to take the girl's statement.

After she had told them all she knew of the monster man, they quickly explained to the girl that they were going to have to put her under the witness protection program because she was the only coherent witness, Oliver not counting as "coherent."

"Wha-What will that mean for us? Where are we going? I'm not letting you split us up." Her words were laced with stutters and uncertainty, but the last sentence clearly had malice in it.

"Elsa, correct?" she gives a sharp nod, "No, we're not going to split the two of you up. You're not of age yet, but we can't have anyone else in danger, so the two of you will be living alone under different names."

Elsa quickly interjected. "My name isn't changing. You can change my last name, but not my first." Her birthday is coming up; she'll be fifteen. She's had fifteen years with the same name, there's no way she's changing it now.

"Ma'am, I know you don't want to change your name-"

"I'm not changing it." Her resolve is firm, and, while the cops see this, they don't anticipate much from a fourteen-year-old.

"Elsa." The tone Office Kai takes is more serious than anything. Elsa meets his gaze levelly. "Do you understand that this murderer is probably going to come after you since he left you behind?" His tone seems to have no effect on the girl.

"Do you, officer, understand that I just watched my parents, the people that gave me my name to begin with, being brutally beaten and murdered? I want anything that they have to give me, and since I can only take my little brother and myself, I want my name that they gave me." She tries to stop the wobbling of her chin and the tears that gather in her eyes from flowing. A single tear escapes her authority, slipping down her cheek silently. She furiously wipes at it, trying desperately to keep her straight, professional gaze. Kai looks at her with pity, something she hates, and she snarls at him. "I'm keeping. My. Name." He merely nods at her, sadness clear in his gaze.

"Elsa-" He tries to put a hand on her shoulder for comfort, but she brushes him off.

"Excuse me officer, but I don't need your pity." Her mask is up and fully working. "Thank you for helping Oliver and I. We appreciate it. When are we leaving?" The officer looks up at her from her standing position, screaming authority.

"Elsa, do you wish to keep Oliver's name the same as well, or just yours?" She blinks at him, masking her surprise expertly.

"Olaf. I know it's weird, but I need something familiar about him, or he won't understand. He's used to me calling him Olaf." She nods her head, her mask slipping as her gaze searches for her little brother.

"Alright. We leave now." She looks at him like he's crazy; he chuckles. "I know it's late, but we need you out now, or he could come back tonight. It's safest for you both if you leave now." He radio's in the information that Elsa has given him so the station knows what to expect and how to get the information as soon as possible. "Now, once the murderer is caught, you'll be safe; you won't have to be under cover anymore. You can choose to stay undercover, or you can come back here and live your life. For now, the police where we're going to be stationing you two are aware of what's happened. One of our own cops will come check in on your periodically, though don't expect to be confronted. The police down there will give you a place to stay, and money so that you can get on your feet and pay for your kid. Oliver will be yours from now on."

"Not much different than it has been." Elsa shrugs easily.

"True, but now, you will have to pay for him as well as yourself. You'll have to take care of him and yourself while keeping a job. Now, just as a warning, you'll probably be hit pretty hard as a child with a child. People won't like it, so we're sending you where not many people will give it a second glance, or, if they do, too many people will be around to really notice your age. You'll be able to blend in well. The police will pay for you until you're 18. After then, you're on your own, and you'll need to make your own money. Do you understand?" She nods, keeping quiet to absorb the information.

"Good. Now, we're going to head to the Chief's office, alright? She'll get you all set up and ready to go. After that, you'll be on the plane to your new home." The officer walks out of the room to check if the Chief is in her office. Being alone, she lets her composure slip just the tiniest of bits, slowly crumbling until it's all gone.

A new home? she thinks wearily, but I don't want a new home. This has to all be just a horrible nightmare. This would never happen to my family. My parents… they were so good. They were so kind. Murderous rage builds into her system; she can't help but let out a tiny scream of pure hatred before she collapses to the ground, sobs finally wracking her body. She doesn't understand. What went wrong?! Did I do something to deserve this? The horrors she watched from the closet play behind her closed eyes.

This time when she hears the sick slosh of her father's insides falling to the floor and watching the whole thing again, she can't hold back the lunch that she made herself from coming up her throat. It lands all over the floor in front of her, but she doesn't seem to care. She can't stop retching, no matter how much she wants to, even after her lunch has been ripped from her stomach. She continues until her throat is raw and probably bleeding a little bit.

She wails in sorrow and silent fury, then. How dare someone come into her home and do this to her parents. How dare they take from her something so precious. How dare that monster do this.

When she feels arms wrap around her, she fights it, kicking and scream, not certain if it's fear that's driving her or anger, but she kicks out and screams like she's never screamed before. One tangible word falls from her lips, is screamed in horror, anger, and fear.

"OLAF!" She cries out before dissolving in the person's arms, blubbering about how she needs her little man, her little Olaf. She dries her tears and wipes her mouth free of her stomach acid and old lunch. She sits silently for a few moments before quietly asking for her little brother. She needs him, to make sure he's safe.

They quickly bring Oliver into the room. His cooing seems to calm his older sister turned mother. She reaches out for him, and the officer hold him seems to be somewhat skeptical, but when her cold eyes turn pleading, he bows his head and give her the baby.

The infant seems to sense something wrong, for he takes one look at his new mother's face before smiling softly and patting her wet cheeks. She smiles down at him, everyone else forgotten about.

"It's just you and me, little man." She whispers, tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm your new mama. Is that okay with you, my little Olaf?" She watches as he giggles and smiles largely with his toothless gums. She smiles back, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. "Alright, baby. That's my little man, my little Olaf." Her smile slips as her head bows, and she lets her composure slip again, sobbing into the little boy's stomach.

The Chief, having rushed into the room when she heard the angry screams, slowly rubs the girl's back, hoping it's helping more than it's hurting. She doesn't feel the girl tense at all, so she continues slowly rubbing her back. When she came in and saw one of her officer's struggling with the girl, she briskly walked over and yanked him off of the poor girl.

"Can you not see how hard she's trying to hold herself together? Let her cry, get it all out. She needs this moment before she can be strong. Don't try to restrain her." She had hissed at him, scolding him for his attempts at controlling the newly orphaned girl. After her officer had let go of Elsa, she had seemed to straighten up quickly, asking for her little brother. When the officer rushed in with the infant, he had looked unsure about handing her over. With one sharp look from the Chief, the baby was handed to the girl.

Which led to the Chief rubbing Elsa's back as she cried softly. The girl, Elsa she keeps reminding herself, sits up straight again, wiping her eyes softly. The Chief smiles softly, sadly, at the sight, knowing that living with loss won't be easy, but this young lady, Elsa, will be able to pull through. She's strong; the Chief can see it in her icy eyes.

Elsa looks up from her six-month old brother, staring directly into the Chief's mocha brown eyes.

"Who are you?" Her voice is scratchy at best but just as confident. She slightly shrinks away from the offending hand on her back, enough for the Chief to know to pull away. And she does just that.

"I'm the Chief. You can call me as such if you wish, but my name's Karen. And yours is?" Elsa gives her an unimpressed look.

"You already know my name." She mumbles, never looking away from Karen's eyes. Karen chuckles. She's strong-willed, I'll give her that, she thinks, nodding her head at the girl.

"Yes, but I thought it impolite for you to not know mine yet I know yours, as we haven't been properly introduced." She smiles kindly at the girl, knowing at such a fragile place, there are certain ways to treat young girls.

"Well, Ms. Karen, now you know my name, and I know yours. I think that's fair enough." Elsa states easily, slowly coming back from the far away place in her mind where all the damage has been done. Karen nods at her, a soft smile on her face.

"Of course, dear." She looks around the room, noticing all the officers that are still there. She rolls her eyes at them and pointedly glares at the door. They look confused for a moment before realization blooms on their faces, and they leave, shutting the door behind them. She rolls her eyes again, good-heartedly. "Now, we've heard your wishes to change Oliver to Olaf and keep your name the same. Other than that, you can't tell anyone of your life here, not your names anyway. And you can't mention anything about this situation to anyone. From now on, you're simply Elsa Isen and Olaf Isen, mother and son, who've had a easy life. Or, maybe not an easy life, but one that ended up good. Do you understand?" She asks softly, not wanting to overwhelm the poor fourteen-year-old.

Elsa nods slowly. "I can't talk to anyone from here, either, right?" Finally, with such a simple question, the girl sounds her age. Fear and confusion muddle her voice, but her eyes stay in contact with Karen's.

"Sweetheart, they're not going to try to contact you in the first place. Everyone here is probably going to assume that you and your brother are dead. We're not going to let people know that you're alive, so nothing can come back to bite you. We're going to try our hardest to keep the two of you safe. I go to New York once a year, every year, around the same time. You're going to be traveling with me this year, and that's where you and your brother will live for a while. Is that okay?"

Elsa nods again, this time not a hesitant. New York… she's always wanted to know what New York looks like other than on postcards. California is so different from New York; it's all the way across the US. She's never even taken a road trip before. She might be excited if she didn't have the memory of why this is happening to her. She blocks that thought out as much as she can.

"We leave in two hours. I know you don't have any clothes or anything, but when we get there, I'm going to take you and your little brother shopping. Once we leave this room, you aren't Elsa Hunter anymore and your brother won't be Oliver Hunter anymore. You're Elsa Isen and your brother is Olaf Isen, your son. You'll still be almost fifteen, but you're going to try not to mention your age to many people, even when people ask how old you are. You can lie to them if you feel the need. You look young, yes, but you can pass off as older." Karen nods at her as if checking to make sure she understands. Elsa nods back, trying as hard as she can to take all of the information being thrown at her in.

"Okay, are you ready?" Elsa nods her head, but Karen catches the way her eyes drift away, looking down at her baby brother turned son. She smiles sadly at the young girl, trying to pass off as old enough for what's happened to her. "Elsa," Elsa's eyes snap back to hers in question, "you don't have to lie. It's okay to not be ready for something so big." Elsa takes a deep breath before reply.

"Actually, I do. If I don't lie to you, then how am I supposed to reassure myself that I'm ready?" She sniffs lightly before turning to look back down at Oliver. Soon, her gaze drags back up to Karen's. "Let's go." She says quietly, barely keeping it together. Karen only nods, understanding the girl's reasoning.

Everything else whizzes by for Elsa. She can't concentrate on anything other than the fact that who she was, isn't who she is anymore. She can't be the same person. This is a blank sleight, a new start. When she get's on the plane two hours after her talk with Karen, she wonders at everything for the first little bit. But after the pressure in her ears lessens and the take-off excitement wears down, she finds it quite easy to doze off. When she closes her eyes, though, she hears, sees, and smells everything all over again. She jolts awake, startling Karen but not waking Olaf (thank god). Karen looks over at her and seems to contemplate something before looking down at Olaf in Elsa's arms.

"I'm going to pay for you to go to therapy. It's going to be mandatory from me, because you need your sleep and after something as traumatic as you've been through, you're going to need it more than you might think." It's barely a whisper that it's said in, but Elsa knows she's supposed to respond. She can only nod, tears starting to gather in her eyes from the harsh memory from that night.

She doesn't try to sleep again. She learned that lesson quickly.

Soon enough, the plane is landing, and Elsa gets the thrill of the landing, just as she got the thrill of the taking off. The plane ride, though long, was spent conversing with Karen, as she didn't want to try to fade back into her hellish nightmares. Getting off the plane is stressful, but Elsa doesn't really mind. She's more concentrated on her own thoughts once again.

She misses some of the dirty looks she gets for carrying an infant on her hip. She really has more important things to be worrying about.

Where is she going to go to school? While she's at school, who's going to look after Olaf? What's going to happen to them? Where are they going to be staying?

Karen answered most of her questions on the plane. She's going to have to take online classes. They're staying in a loft that will be paid for by the police, though she'll have to go by and get the monthly payments as so not to cause suspicion. And Elsa will need to find a job as soon as possible, though they won't have to depend on Elsa's money until she's 18. That's when they'll be on their own. Elsa decides that she's going to start saving as much as possible right now.

Karen calls a taxi (god only knows how she got one of those in this cramped of a city, Elsa thinks), and fairly quickly for around six in the morning, gets to the loft that Elsa and Olaf will be living in for a while.

Upon stepping in, Karen smiles at the place.

"Welcome to your new home." She says lightly to Elsa.

All Elsa can manage to think while clinging to Olaf is one thought, and it makes her smile sadly.

This is one lonely home.

A/N: Please please please tell me what you think. I'm better at writing angst/horror/thriller than anything really. There won't be much angst between Anna and Elsa, but definitely in Elsa's life... as you can see... lol Anyway! Before I continue with the story, I want to make sure people like it! :) Oh yeah, I've got a tumbler (ouatemmaandsnow)... and a DA (joydodd) I don't have much on my DA cause I'm self-conscious, but I'm working on it... Thanks for reading!

~Elsanna101