Elyanne Goldager looked up bleary eyed from her position on the ground, at the sound of wheels approaching. Two stretchers passed grimly before her, heavy with their occupied body bags, followed by an assortment of people from the investigative team. After the somber procession had moved on, Elyanne shifted her eyes back down to the dark head nestled against her chest. His now peaceful face was stuck to her tear stained shirt, his arms wrapped loosely around her. A shadow approached the duo and Elanne recognized their neighbor's worn-out Nikes.

'How's Cyril doing?'�

Sounding awkward as usual. She looked down at Cyril's face again before looking up at the shaggy haired blonde before her. Curly hair sticking out at odd angles, loose white shirt, hands stuck into the pockets of quickly donned baggy jeans, Mr. Fred Higgins appeared as he always did.

'He's fine now that he's asleep'� she answered him quietly. Giving a small nod his gaze traveled down to their arms and stuck there. Oh, yeah. She had forgotten about the blood that covered her and Cyril's arms, what a sight they must be. Drops of water began falling on Cyril's face. Was it raining? She was shocked to find that those were her tears. As her shoulders began to shake, Fred's arms encircled her.

'Shh,'� he said, pulling her against him, 'everything will be OK, Ely.'�

'I know'� she whispered. Now everything will be perfect.

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'Ely dear, would you go help your father?'� The perfect painted red lips curled into a smile. 'Thank you dear'� she said in a sing song voice, already turning away. Ely gave her a despising smile before turning to go and find Cyril, who, judging by the shouts, was yet again on the receiving end of her father Marcus' wrath. She took the stairs of their new house two at a time and saw Cyril huddled in a corner grabbing his shoulder, a grimace of pain on his face. Marcus raised his hand and Ely threw the door open, stopping him in mid swing.

'Sorry to interrupt,'� her face was blank, emotionless, 'but Keren needs you in the kitchen.'� She said looking at Cyril. The little boy got up and walked past her out the door.

'How many times do I have to tell you to call us mother and father?'� he asked irritably. She held his eyes for a moment before moving the over sized desk that Marcus had set Cyril up to fail with. The man gave a grunt before turning to move more furniture into place. Her green eyes burned into his back, fists clenched, lips drawn tight. How she hated them. Her father abused her brother for not being an extreme sports player like him and that sickening Barbie doll mother of hers did nothing about it!! Being athletic had saved Ely from her father's wrath to lead a life of being elegantly ignored by both her parents. After seventeen years she was used to it, but there was no way in hell she'd let this apathy take hold of Cyril. A wicked smile flitted across her face. She wouldn't give them time.

Two days later found the Goldapers sitting eating dinner with their new neighbors. The unkempt Mr. Fred Higgins sat on one side with Ely and Cyril and Mrs. And Mr. Knight sat facing them, deep in conversation with Marcus and Keren. Ely was happily watching Fred and Cyril have an animated conversation about the garden they were putting together in Fred's yard. The three had met the first day they had moved in while Keren and Marcus were out getting groceries and charming the locals. Cyril loved plants and apparently the unsuspecting 21 year old writer had been putting a plant that liked only a bit of sun in a place that got sun the whole day long. They had all had fun planting, until Marcus got home. Fred had followed their dark gaze to the car coming up the street and given them a questioning look before they bid him a quick but fond farewell and dashed back to the house. Now, unfortunately, their ever vigilant father was glaring through his hair at the young man, hating him for getting along with Cyril.

'Cyril, it's time for bed.'� Marcus said jovially, a fake smile plastered across his dark face. Immediately the boys face fell and he slowly left the table. They all boomed out insidious laughter at 'the young's determination to stay up late'�. All except Ely and Fred who watched the boys hunched shoulders disappear through the door, angry fires burning in their knowing eyes.

Keren was drying the dishes while Ely washed, they couldn't chance Keren's perfectly manicured hands touching the soapy dishwater. The radio was playing some evening jazz when an emergency bullitan was announced. A cerial killer nicknamed the Night Walker was yet again confirmed to be in this area. Everyone thirty and older was cautioned to be on alert at night and not trust their locks. The report began to announce a couple who's throats were cut in their sleep with no signs of forced entry when Keren turned of the radio with a shudder.

'That's too grisly to listen to at this hour'� she said primly. Ely rolled her eyes, neither of her parents would think they had anything to worry about, they both thought they were still twenty. When Keren glanced over at the drying rack and frowned, her brow knitting elegantly.

'Ely dear,'� God she hated how she put dear at the end of her name, 'where's the eighth steak knife?'� She tensed then, though only for a moment behind her mother's back, and let out a sigh. 'I don't know Keren, maybe you left it in the drawer because we only had seven people to dinner.'� The woman's face went blank for a moment before breaking into a pretty but slightly dumb smile.

'So we did,'� she laughed, 'I must be more tired than I thought.'�

'Why don't you go up to bed, I'll take care of putting everything away.'�

'Alright, I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight dear.'�

Ely stood still a moment after she left the kitchen before gathering the silverware and opening the drawer. She placed the seven spoons with their eighth, seven forks with their eighth, and then, slowly, she placed seven knives in an empty slot.

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The clock on the window sill read 3:02 a.m. and the sound of her brother moving to and from the bathroom had stopped. She took a deep breath, grabbed something next to her bed, and walked out of her room. Keeping her breath under control, she crept towards her parents' room, reminding herself to go right for the neck, nothing more, just how the Night Walker did it. Then go downstairs and leave one window opened along with the door and the rest unlocked. She didn't have to worry about lock picking, he never left any trace, that's what made him so frightening, or at this moment, convenient. Ely halted when she reached the door, it was already slightly ajar. They never left their door ajar. Slowly, she approached the door, knife at the ready, and heard almost silent sobbing from the other side. Cyril's sobbing. She burst through the door and turned on the light, gasping as she did. There, lying between the bleeding bodies of her parents sat Cyril. His small body shaking uncontrollably, a slender knife gripped in his hand. A minute passed, her standing silently in the doorway, him shaking on the bed. Then she turned and took a step into the hall.

'Stop.'� His voice was small but powerful, 'You don't need to worry about the window or the door, I already took care of them.'� Ely turned back and gave him a sad, reassuring smile.

'I know. I just needed to put the steak knife back.'�

'Will you bring me with you?'�

'Of course I will'� Putting the knife in her pajama pocket, Ely walked over and leaned over her mothers body to pick the boy up. Calmly they walked downstairs and she placed Cyril on the edge of the sink before placing the missing steak knife back with it's seven brothers.

'Now why don't we go over to Fred's and see if we can't find a spot in the garden for this knife, hmm? But first let's call the police, it will take them a good 20 minutes to get here.'�

His eyes were already tearing up again, 'Alright.'�

Twenty minutes later, Cyril and Ely stood in front of an extremely shocked Fred Higgins as police sirens wailed in the distance.

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