Some of this story is quite violent and has some bad language, maybe. I forget. So avert your eyes kiddies 
Hello brave people. I threw this together in a week or so and it's still pretty raw. Any criticism is apprieciated of course. It's about redemption and secrets that are better left buried. Insert dramatic spooky music here right? Haha. If you can bear to read it all, I will put you in my will. Joke, but I will adore you possibly. Haha. Okay, I'll shut up so you can read it. Again, thanks.
"O villain! Thou wilt be condemn'd into everlasting redemption for this."
-Quote from Much Ado About Nothing, by William Shakespeare
Prologue:
A woman sat on a stoop smoking a cigarette in the early morning hours. She inhaled deeply and then threw the cigarette to her feet where she promptly stomped on it. She let the nicotine give her a soothing calm before standing up and letting the smoke through her lips. She walked down the stairs off the stoop and onto the sidewalk where she began walking. Her hair dropped down over her face as she flipped her head back to catch a glance from behind her. The young woman quickened her pace, keeping her head down. Her long billowy coat cascaded down her legs and swam in the swift air. Her hands were placed casually in her pockets as she strode down the opposite side of the street. The overhead light flickered it's artificial light on her face then died, making her figure cut into the night air for an instance. The buzz of the light poles and sound of cars in the distance was all that one could here at this time of night. She came upon an alleyway and paused for a moment as if to collect her thoughts. She then walked into the alley on an impulse. She gently glanced over her shoulder and then quickened her pace once more. The woman heard a high-pitched scream from beyond the corner of the ominous alley and jumped. Her heart thrust itself in her throat and she stopped herself from letting out a yelp of fear. She froze dead in her tracts and a panicked look crept across her face. She quickly turned the opposite way and headed back to the street. She heard another scream and started to run. She squinted her eyes shut as she ran out of the alley. Again, a scream rang out, only this time it was an audible word, "Help." The woman stopped, mid-way through the alley, her thoughts racing. She ran her hand through her hair and trembled. The woman once again backtracked and ran back into the dark alley. A tear ran down and off her face as she turned the corner from where the pleas of desperation originated. An unpleasant metallic smell filled her nostrils. A smell that was all too familiar to her. She could make out an outline of a figure standing over a crumpled form. Presumably the source of the screams. Steam rose from a vent behind them. As the figure approached, a glimmer of light emanated from the figure's hand revealing a deadly blade. A cold shiver ran up the woman's spine as she took a step back. Everything in her told her to run, but she remained still, as if paralyzed. The night air had become thick like molasses, holding her in place.
"Who was asking for help?" the young lady asked desperately.
She received no reply from the shadowy figure and instantly wished she had said nothing.
The figure with the blade took a few steps forward. In panic, the woman shouted, "What have you done?!" taking another step back.
The reply was utter silence but she swore to herself that she heard a snicker.
The woman didn't know what to do as the figure approached her ever more. She could now clearly recognize this figure was a man judging by his body size. He lifted up the hand with the blade firmly gripped in his palm. The woman backed up again, only this time her back rubbed up against the wall behind her. She looked at the street, which now seemed to stretch indefinitely away from her. The man was less than six feet away now and she only had two choices, fight or flee. But before she could make a choice, the man charged at her. As he approached her, the woman grabbed his arm with the blade in it, clearly seeing the fresh blood from the victim crumpled up only a few feet away. She knew what she had to do. She had to get angry if she wanted to win. She screamed in a blinding rage and maneuvered herself so that the man was now back up behind the wall. She had to live through this. Dying was not an option. She slammed his hand against the bricks making a cracking sound she knew were the bones in his hand breaking. The man moaned and blade dropped to the littered floor. The man then thrust his knee into the woman's stomach successfully winding her. She took a few steps back, her hands grasping her chest to try and breathe. The man walked forward and hit her on the side of the face, making a terrible smashing sound. The woman almost fell and used her hands to keep from landing on the littered pavement. She felt blood trickle down from above her right eye and winced in pain. She screamed again and came at the man head first, ramming him into the wall. The then grabbed his head and began to smash it back into the brick wall. Her will to live blurred every sense she had. She had to stop him. She had to fight. Eventually, she heard a deep cracking sound and stopped. The man made a groaning sound and fell to the floor like a rag doll next to his blade. Blood was dripping down the wall in a grotesque display. The woman walked backwards, dizzy from the blow to the head. She turned around and began to walk towards the crumpled mass down the alley where steam continued to rise. Her knees buckled and she fell, feeling extremely nauseous. Her vision was severely diminished and her head was throbbing painfully. She desperately gasped for air when she heard a ringing from behind her. She turned her head and saw the man running towards her. She screamed, but the sound was deafened by three popping noises from the corner of the alley. She heard one of the bullets connect on him. He let out a faint grunt and ran down the alley past her, vanishing into the steam. Another man holding a gun stood by the corner of the alley. The woman's world turned gray and she saw no more…
Chapter One:
She awoke suddenly as if startled by an unpleasant dream. She sat up in her hospital bed feeling the tug of an IV firmly taped to her hand. The physical pain of last night's trauma had been expunged by a rigorous amount of pain medicine, for which she was very grateful. She moved her fingers gently across the thin gash across her brow and winced. After her eyes adjusted, she admired the room she had been admitted to. The walls were an ordinary eggshell color with no remarkable aspects to it. To her far right there was a small window with the blinds down letting slivers of light that shined across her bed. Directly in front of her was a small television turned off along with a door she presumed led to the bathroom. The room itself was plain and lacking but she had dealt with far worse before. The mere fact that she was sleeping on a bed for once made her grin sheepishly. She soon got an itch for a nicotine jolt and realized she was wearing a long generic hospital gown. She grumbled and looked around for her slacks that had the carton of cigarettes she had bought the day before inside the left pocket. No dice. She sighed and pulled out her IV showing no sign of pain in doing so. She was walking over to the facilities when her knees buckled and she almost fell down. She grabbed on to the side of the bed and propped herself against it. She shook her head and then continued into the bathroom. Once inside, she helped herself to the sink and splashed some water over her face. She looked in the mirror and gave a look of disgust. She swore the mirror added ten pounds to her small figure and then thought better of it, dismissing her long lost vanity. Her shoulder length red hair was ruffled in every direction imaginable and her complexion left her feeling sick. The blow to her head looked far worse than it felt. It seemed as if the whole of her forehead and grown out two inches and turned different shades of blues and purples. No amount of concealer would cover that well. She decided to blame it on the florescent lights and moved on. Pulling down her eyelids, she examined those little red lines on your eyes that form when you haven't slept enough. Her pale grey eyes moved to her mouth where she made a kissy face at the mirror. She then flashed her teeth and smirked. For a smoker of six years, you could hardly tell with her pearly whites. Using the sink's water to flatten down her hair, she turned around and headed back into the room. On her way out, she noticed the mirror displaying her butt hanging out of her gown in an unseemly manner. She turned around, poked her head inside the restroom once more, and grabbed a robe that happened to be hanging on the wall near the shower. She felt that she had made herself as presentable as possible, seeing as how she was nearly killed last night.
The young woman was about to head out of her room when the doorknob turned and a familiar face walked inside. It looked like the man who had saved her earlier. He opened up his jacket to reveal his badge and nodded at her. She didn't really care for cops, but seeing as how this one saved her from being sliced and diced into tiny bits, she figured she would try and be rational. She sized him up and made her observations. The man stood only a couple inches taller than her, probably around 5'8 or 5'9. He was wearing civilian clothes with jeans and a buttoned-down white shirt. His gun holster was wrapped around his chest, making her feel a bit uncomfortable. She pegged him to be in his forties or a hard fifty, probably old enough to be her father. He was clean-shaven and had short black hair covered by a big baseball cap with sunglasses on top of it. He looked healthy enough; He was in shape, didn't have any dark circles, and smelled like a generic spice you find in men's after-shave. His humble hazel eyes met hers and she frowned. She knew what was coming.
"You have to ask me some questions don't you?"
"You're not wrong," the man said, motioning her back towards the bed. "Starting with this one. Where the hell are you going?"
She rolled her eyes and plopped herself back onto the bed. "I don't know. Don't like being kept up in a place like this. Thought I might go find my clothes and buy come more cigarettes. Hold up a bank on my way out. The usual. But hey, how about you introduce yourself before we start the rousing game of twenty questions okay?"
"Right. Name's Lieutenant Kirk."
The woman paused and stared at him, perplexed. "Well? Aren’t you going to ask who I am, Lieutenant?"
"Don't need too. One of the guys who arrived on the scene after me recognized you as Cass Holding."
She raised her hand to her chest in a false sign of flattery. "Ah hah, so my reputation proceeds me," Cass said, well aware of her stellar encounters with the law.
"Apparently," Kirk said half-smiling at her audacity. "Now Miss Holding, you are aware you were found a scene of a murder last night, right?"
The memories came rushing back to her in an instant. The screaming, the girl, the man with the knife. And he had said murder. In her mind she had a small glimmer of hope that the crumpled form still clung to a spark of life. No such luck.
Her light manner was wiped clean. "She was dead?" she asked, feeling a pang of guilt.
"Took her to the hospital along with you last night. She was pronounced dead almost as soon as she arrived. Not much they could do." Kirk said, seeming disconnected from the situation as he had been trained too.
Cass cast her head down and sighed. "What about the guy?" she asked.
"I believe I am the one asking the questions here if you don't mind," the man said firmly. Anal-ly in Cass's opinion.
Cass bit her tongue and kept quiet. Annoyed, she laid her head down back on the pillow, which seemed to be wrapped in a cheap paper product. She lifted her arms in the air as a sign of defeat. "Alright, alright. Shutting up. Ask away."
"Now," he said pulling out a pen and a notepad. "Do you know anything about the man the knife?"
Cass gave him a puzzled look. "What about him? I didn't even get a good look at him!
Kirk gave her a skeptical glare.
"What? You think I killed the girl or something?! Comon'! I mean the guy was coming at me with the same thing he murdered the fucking girl with!"
Kirk rolled his eyes at her and waved his hand. "Calm down! Jeez, don't get so defensive. All I need to know for the report is why you were there and if you knew the victim or attacker."
She stared at him blankly. "That's it?"
He grinned at her. "For now."
"Alright then. To answer your first question, I was taking a short cut to my place. And secondly, no and no. Didn't know either of 'em. So I'll be going then,"
"Hold on. You were walking down a dark alley to get your place? What are you stupid?"
Cass beamed at him warmly, flicking him off.
The man laughed. "You're lucky the guys down at the department like you so much. Now, you're sure you didn't recognize either of the two other civilians?"
"Crystal." she said, twirling her hair to show her lack of interest in the subject.
"Okay then. Thank you for your time. We may need to contact you in case we need more information. What's your address?"
"1985 Volvo. ACL4C61," she said blankly.
Kirk paused. "You live in your car?"
"Of course not," she said smiling. "It's not my car. I just sleep in it."
"…You're kidding? Do you even know the owner?"
"Yeah. Some nice looking go-getter guy who wears a nice blue blazer to work in the morning. Can't be that smart though. Never locks his doors. Not that would be a problem if they were locked. I would just--"
"I think I've heard enough." Kirk said, scribbling something down on his notepad. "Here's my work phone-number and cell-phone number. Call it if you recall anything." Kirk said, walking back towards the exit when the doctor walked in.
The doctor was Asian and wasn't overly tall. He wore a long white coat and walked into the room like he owned the place.
"Hello Ms.Holding. Hope you're feeling well." the doctor said in a monotone voice.
"Keen." Cass said feeling antsy from her lack of nicotine. She started scratching a freckle on her arm pointlessly. "So when can I get out of here?"
"Well, you seem to be progressing well. And since you're awake, I believe you should be able to leave today," the doctor replied, glancing at her arm. "That is, if you don't take out you're IV's anymore."
Cass smiled at the good doctor. "Sure."
"There is the matter of you are on major pain medication so you will need someone to drive you home. Do you have any family or friends you could call?" the doctor asked.
Cass was about to shake her head when she noticed Kirk still standing in the back of the room. She waved at him and winked. "Yes. I'm sure the Lieutenant wouldn't mind. Would you Lieutenant?"
Kirk looked around the room as if there was another Lieutenant standing directly behind him. He sighed. "Yeah, sure. Around what time?"
"Probably in an hour or so. We need to make sure she still doesn't have a concussion and write her a prescription for vikadin and then she is good to go."
Kirk nodded. "I'll be back in an hour."
***
Kirk arrived a couple minutes early and picked up the newly dressed Cass. As she trailed behind him in the parking lot she realized it was getting dark outside. She wondered how long she had been out of it when she arrived at Kirk's truck. It was older and smelled like it had seen it's fair share of mold and bodily fluids in times past, but she had seen worse. He asked her where she wanted to be dropped off and she gave him directions to her current place of employment, a local diner. The ride there was silent as she and Kirk disliked small talk. When they arrived, Cass grabbed her clothes from the back of his car and stepped out. She smiled meekly.
"Thanks," she said shutting the door.
"No problem." Kirk replied.
Cass began to walk away when she turned back and knocked on the window. Kirk pushed the little button by the drivers' seat and the window came down.
Cass half-smiled at him. "Thanks, you know, for saving my life too," she muttered out awkwardly.
Kirk grinned. "My pleasure. And remember to call whenever you remember or anything else okay?"
Cass patted her pocket with the paper in it, nodded, and backed away. She then waved to Kirk as he drove off down the road and out of sight. She stood there a couple moments before collapsing on the pavement and crying.
Chapter Two:
Santos and Son's Diner, as it was called, was the little establishment at which Cass worked. It was owned by her boss, Roger, and employed only two waitresses, Liv and herself. The outside of the diner was cold and industrial, but the inside was warm and friendly. The floor was a checkerboard tile, the walls were a light shade of blue, and the booths along the walls matched the color. The bar to the opposite side was where all the "action" happened though. The memories behind that bar, when the three of them talked or quipped at each other during work, were the memories that Cass treasured most. If she valued above all else, it was friendship.
Liv was closing up for the night when Roger walked by and kissed her on the head. He murmured a goodnight and headed towards the door when Cass walked through it. Roger was ready to dish out the guilt for not showing up for work earlier today, but he quickly bit his tongue when he got a good look at her. Cass stumbled inside and waved.
"You look terrible." Roger said, very matter-of fact like.
"Perceptive isn't he?" Cass asked Liv, still behind the counter, cigarette hanging off her lip.
"Yeah. He also has an annoying habit of telling the truth." Liv managed to say, making her way over to Cass.
Cass legs buckled and Roger and Liv rushed to her side, catching her. They helped her over to one of the booths near the door and sat her down. They each took a seat on either side of her and stared. Cass felt very much like she had walked in naked.
"Okay. You can stop looking at me like I just survived a train wreck anytime now."
Liv frowned. "What happened Cassie? I was worried sick." She ran her hand through her big hair and clutched her chest.
Liv was in her late thirties and was the closest thing to a best friend Cass had. She was big-boned and very mama bear-ish towards her. Cass liked that. Her hair was dyed blonde and always in a perm, way over the top. Her make-up usually varied between extreme, and clown. Today it was clown. Her eyes were outlined in deep purple along with her lips. It made her big green eyes pop.
Cass sighed and made a calming gesture. "I really don't want to talk about it if that's okay. I'm fine. Nothing a little morphine can't fix,”
Roger just sat there looking like her favorite puppy had just been run over, again, and again, and again. He had a major crush on Cass the minute she walked in asking for a job three years ago. She was oblivious.
"Breathe Roger," Cass said to him.
Liv slapped his shoulder and he shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's just, damn. You sure you're okay?"
"Peachy," Cass said sticking her tongue out. "Promise."
Roger ran his hand through his curly auburn hair and nodded. At six foot two, he comes off a little imposing. But his easygoing and sensitive demeanor carries that aura away. Cass swore he was the type of guy who cried when the artist stopped drawing Bambi's mother. His dark brown eyes, almost black, always glimmered slightly at her. He was very polite and kind, a real people-person. Good qualities for a diner-owner. He was in his mid-twenties, and had worked under his father at the diner. When he passed away, he left the diner to him, a year before Cass came to work there. The diner was his life and Cass and Liv were like his family. And they knew it.
"Do you need a place to stay tonight?" Roger asked. His intentions, of course, were pure. He would never try anything on Cass, and she respected that.
"Actually, that's kind of why I'm here. Do you mind?"
Roger shook his head at her. "Of course not."
Liv rolled her eyes. "No offense boss-man but I think this qualifies as girly time. She can stay at my place." Liv said crushing her cigarette on the table. "Besides, I actually have clothes she can change into there. And Richard won't be home until the afternoon tomorrow." Richard was Liv's long-term boyfriend who occasionally lived with her. He was a doctor and made oodles of money; Liv's second love in her life.
Roger shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. As long as you're not sleeping in that guy's car."
"You know that's only temporary until I find another place Roge." Cass said, slightly annoyed.
"I just don't see why you couldn't have stayed with Liv or me." Roger replied.
"I just don't like to mooch. Besides, I've slept on worse thing than a Volvo." Cass said, trying to quell her annoyance and Rogers goodwill.
"Fine. Then why are you mooching now?" Roger said, flashing a smile.
Cass smirked. "Because I am an extreme hypocrite that’s why Roger."
"Thought so."
"Oh for heaven's sake, you two stop bickering! Might as well get hitched I swear," Liv said standing up. "So who are you staying with?"
Cass also stood up and massaged an ache in her shoulder. "Well, sorry Roger. But Liv has clothes. Can't compete with that."
He smiled and joined them. "Alright then. You get rested up, and don't come in tomorrow."
Cass looked puzzled. "Why? I'm fine."
"This isn't an argument. Don't come in tomorrow."
Cass half-smiled. "I refuse to not come in tomorrow Roger! And you can't make me! If you do, I'll quit!"
Roger grabbed his coat and headed towards the door. "Ah, alright then. I still win."
"How?"
"Because then you won't be here tomorrow," he said, his voice getting dimmer as he walked outside. Roger waved through the glass and was gone.
Liv walked behind the counter, chuckling at the couple's immaturity. Cass strut up to the counter and had a seat on one the stools. Liv was putting the cash in the safe-box and hanging up her apron. Cass watched her, and felt safe for the first time since her encounter in the alley. She grinned and placed her head on the counter and closed her eyes. Before she knew it, Liv was giving her a hardy prodding with her index finger and motioning towards the door.
"Ready Cassie?" Liv said hugging her warmly.
"Let's get out of here."
Chapter Three:
--That's all for now folks.
Thanks a lot! That really helped. I shall do my best to improve it. HA even I am tired reading it all, that should say something no? I was thinking of just ditching the prologue and starting with chapter one. Makes you wonder more what the hell happened perhaps. As for the prologue and over-dramatic sentences, I am trying to transistion from my last story, a fantasy no less 
