War To Hell's Flames.

Her eyes drop down to the phone vibrating on her bed, quickly picking it up and putting it to her ear. Charlie was known to call her back when he forgot something, it had to be the same sort of thing at the moment.

"Dad I thought we–"

"You thought it was your father? Oh dear, a shame.. Did I disappoint by making the call?" Amelia's eyes widen, gripping onto her phone tiger. She stands, listening to the modified voice almost mock her. Her hand pushes the curtains near her bed back, peering out into the distance.

Was someone watching her at this very moment, how did they know she had been on the phone at this time? Clearly someone had to have their eyes on her, plenty did. This time was much different, it was a lot more concerning.

She growls, moving away from her window. Shutting the curtains to block anyone's view of her. "How the hell did you get this private line.."

The modified voice laughs, a taunting gesture to her reaction. He knew he had her in a compromising position, and it angered her. The person on the other end of the phone knew that, it must have felt good to them.

"You just don't get it, do you Amelia."

"Don't call me by my fucking name." She wanted to shoot the person down here and now, but she couldn't. He was just out of her reach, a few steps ahead. Amelia didn't like being behind in the chase. She was always supposed to be the one tormenting her capture. Not the other way around, it was unnerving her.

He sighs, "I have eyes everywhere, I have ears everywhere. How do you think I've known so much about you?"

"What do you want from me, you sick bastard." Right to the point, she didn't want to be a part of his silly little charade. He called her for a reason, and she wanted to know every little detail about it.

There's a moment of pause before the sound of brisk humming can be heard. They were getting too comfortable, enjoying the tight grip they had on her. "Have you ever feared the thought of death, Amelia? You're surrounded by the smell of fear and despair."

"The intoxicating smell of blood, and rotting flesh. The blank stares of dead men, women, and children in your possession." A pause, "Tell me, do you fear death?"

Did she fear death: A question she had thought of for far too long.

A ghastly path of blood always followed her, and yet it was never her own. The Grim Reaper, Death, whomever took the lives of the living: they had never come close to taking her. Not that she wasn't prepared for the hands of death to wrap around her neck, it was how it would feel to die. Did the method of death matter once she left the earth, would her body continue to rot and decay under the ground?

She faced chances of death everyday, only concealed by a gun with a flashy badge. Coming across as confident, independent, invincible. Amelia was far from any of these things, yet presentation was everything.

However, she still couldn't answer the question even to herself. Let alone a complete stranger.

"No, I don't fear death. I don't fear it one bit."

"Oh no?" A distorted chuckle, the man seemed amused by her answer. "I can smell the fear off of you, from the mere tone of your voice." Her hand grips tighter onto the phone, the other balling into a fist.

This person knew her too well, she knew nothing of them at all. Amelia couldn't tell who it was from the voice, too modified for her to recognize. The phrasing was beyond anyone she had spoken to, too casual to be able to identify. How could she capture the mouse at play, when she had no clues to get any closer?

"You're terrified of the thought of death, not just any death." He hisses. "A merciless death."

It was infuriating, being told what her mind entailed. He didn't know what she truly thought, only speculating what he thought. He was a fool unable to see past the scope of his own delusions. These criminals were all the same, thinking they knew her on a more personal level. None of them did, they only saw what they wanted to see.

Wanting to pull down one of their biggest enemies, but to no avail.

His monologue continues: "To no longer be able to move, talk, nor be given the chance to live a blissful life." He coos, "A pretty little lady, corrupted by the world around her, as she dies slowly."

She could feel her eyebrow twitching, gritting her teeth together. "You psycho.."

"Psycho? Hm.." He fake gasps, before chuckling. "I'll see you in a day, 10 p.m as you remember."

He truly had only one objective: to torture her. It was working, terrorizing every part of her life. Her father, her job, possibly now her relationship. The walls closed in around her, feeling it was becoming hard to breathe. A man being able to corner her as such: it was a disgrace to everything she had built.

The tireless hours of training, the sleepless nights of studying, all of it would have been for nothing. One man would not make her entire reputation plummet. Her solve rate, her arrest rate was the highest in any other department. This chase would be the same.

The sound of tapping can be heard on the other end of the phone. "I look forward to a meeting once more, Amelia." He says in a sing-song voice, "Farewell, for now."

Amelia wasn't going to let him get away this easily.

"Wait–."

The dial tone clicks, ringing piercing her ears the moment it does. Eyes stare at the empty wall in front of her, her hands tightened in fists. Pulling her phone slowly down from her ear, she tosses it onto the bed. Quickly she stands up, walking over to her nightstand and grabbing onto the photo sat on top of it.

Her eyes glare down at the photo. The more she stared at it, the angerer she became. She used to be so happy, life used to be so simple. Here she was dealing with another monster, ruining her life in every aspect. Exactly like Jake Parker, unable to control his obsession and lust for her. Taking over her entire being, bringing her down in flames. Hell was a hot place, but she wouldn't meet him down below. The anger inside of her was hotter than any flames she could ignite.

"Argh!"

Amelia throws the picture frame towards the empty wall, it instantly shatters. She huffs, watching as the picture frame lansdowne onto the wooden floor. Glass scattered, shattered on top of the silver picture frame. The strands of her jet black hair push in front of her eyes, her fingers pushing them back.

She had lost control, something she hadn't done in years.

A simple photograph of her past had gotten her so upset, but it wasn't the pink haired young woman that angered her. Someone knew of this version of her, she hated the past more with that factor. If only she could erase the person she used to be.

Stay only the person she was now, no strings attached. Yet now the puppet master was pulling the strings all too tightly. Amelia was unable to snip the strings to free herself. Life was in her control once she had started anew, but the past continued to tug at her heels. Making sure to follow her whenever she went, giving her all the more reason to fade from known eyes once more.

No, she couldn't do that. Running away from this new life she had built because of one silly little man. A man who could not even show his face to her, or reveal his own voice. She wasn't the same, she was different from the meak pink haired high school student. No more running, no more hiding from the darkness that swept under her feet. Amelia needed to stand up, and fight for the justice of the innocent. Other lives depended on her shoulders, the peace of the deceased families sat in her hand.

There's a gleam of strength in her eyes, shining against her emerald hues. Kneeling down to the broken photo frame, picking it up in both of her hands. Her index fingers run across the sides, a light chuckle from her lips. The little smile that slowly stretched across the pink shaded lips. Emotions going from angry, to amused. Amused by her own anger, and her own strength within it. If she could channel this emotion, she would be able to overtake her opponent.

To get rid of this, she would have to get her hands dirty. Amelia was more than willing. Now this had fueled the fire under her.

Let there be war, Amelia was ready. She would have him begging for mercy, to which he would get none.