Chapter Text
"You need to stop getting into trouble, Melissa."
Sitting on the living room sofa, with bruises on her face, aches in her body, and a tired expression, Mel listened to her sister's lecture as she had so many times before.
Mel never was a model person, she was known as a hothead and had a comeback ready. At school, despite her excellent grades, teachers complained about her talking too much and getting into fights with her classmates.
If someone said anything bad about her, she said something back; if someone pushed her, Mel slapped them. She never let anyone go without getting what they deserved.
Of course, this caused headaches for her mother, who had to sort out her problems, and for her older sister, who tried to sort out the trouble, in addition to filling her father with hatred. No matter how many beatings the old man gave her, Melissa only built up more anger. She blamed him for being this way. If he hadn't been such a shitty father, maybe she would have been a better child.
"She came at me thinking I was with her girlfriend, I was just defending myself," the brunette said, exhaling through her teeth as her sister placed the product-soaked cotton ball over the cut on her cheekbone.
"You were with her girlfriend, Mel."
"It doesn't matter."
Ava sighed deeply and ran her hand over her face. Mel bit her lower lip in regret for bringing that silly problem to her, since her sister had more important things to do.
The eldest had a haggard expression from a long day at the police station. Since becoming a detective, things had gotten more demanding; she'd come home later and sometimes not even show up at all, swamped with some case her boss assigned her. Ava's green eyes were steady and focused, showing concern, but also frustration at seeing her youngest in that state again. She's wearing only black tailored pants and a white tank top covered in dust and blood from having to pick Mel up from the floor.
"Look, I can't run to you every time something bad happens," Ava scolds. She hates it when the youngster fights with someone.
"Then don't come, simple as that." Melissa says harshly.
A silence falls between them, and their eyes meet. Ava recognizes the look Melissa is giving her, like a wary cat trying to protect itself. She understands that her sister wants to keep her away from her problems, but Ava won't let herself stop caring for the girl.
Mel wants to swallow her own words; she can't express that she simply doesn't want her older sister bothered by something trivial. That night wasn't supposed to end this way; she didn't think the girlfriend from one of her flings would show up as she was leaving college and corner her to beat her up.
The girl managed to defend herself as best she could, landing punches and a few kicks, but she didn't expect the bitch to be so strong, landing a vicious punch to the jaw and a kick to the ribs that left the brunette seeing stars.
It was a college friend who saw Melissa lying on the sidewalk and called Ava to come pick her up. At least, it’s what she thinks.
Humiliating.
And now there she was, her jaw throbbing, her ribs bruised, a cut on her cheekbone and another on her lower lip. Mel was used to street fights, but this one took her completely by surprise.
She should have known Jessica wouldn't accept being a cuckold forever.
"I'll always come help you, even if you don't want to," the older girl said and finished bandaging the brunette's face. "Go upstairs and take a shower, I'll make dinner."
The youngest watched her sister head toward the kitchen and sighed deeply, rubbing her hands over her face, only to regret it when her jaw ached.
"Oh, fuck. I'm going to kill that girl." Mel huffed.
She rested an arm on the sofa and slowly got up to avoid further aggravating the pain in her ribs, beginning to drag herself toward the bedroom.
The Golds' house was spacious, the yellow lights creating a cozy atmosphere, the decor featuring brown colors, nude accents, and touches of green — all Ava's choice. The living room is spacious, featuring a large moss-green sofa, a long brown rug, which Mel says is typical of her grandmother's house, a rack in the center of the room against the wall, and the television on top, along with a few other items that the eldest had collected over time. Around her, paintings and plants decorate the space, with a window behind the sofa and another on the left side of the room, both covered by a thin, light green curtain. The living room and kitchen are divided by the wooden pantry, where Ava is sorting ingredients for dinner.
Mel likes it here; it was a find in New York, and she knows how hard her sister fought to find a nice place for them.
She walked down the hallway, grumbling about the pain in her ribs, a reminder that she shouldn't get involved with a woman in a relationship anymore.
The brunette opens the door to her room, and her nostrils are filled with the scent of vanilla and cat perfume. Pirate is curled up in a ball on top of her owner's black bedspread, her white fur scattered all over the fabric and on the few stuffed animals the girl collects, but the human is already used to it.
"What's up, kitty?" She stroked the animal's soft fur, smiling when she felt it purr under her touch. "Mommy didn't have a very good day."
Pirate meowed in response, as if sensing her owner's mood. She rubbed her face against Melissa's palm and licked her fur as a sign of affection. Then the brunette smiled and played with the cat's chin, feeling as if her troubles had momentarily melted away.
Melissa adopted the cat when she was a kitten, finding her in the woods after hearing her pained meows on her way home from school. She was terrified when she picked the kitten up and saw that she was missing an eye; some wretch had probably hurt her and then abandoned her. The girl ran home and begged Ava to take the cat to the vet. From then on, an unbreakable bond was formed; the name Pirate came easily after the cat got better.
She lay down on the soft bed and let out a deep sigh. The day had been long, and only now did Melissa feel how exhausted her body was, desperately in need of rest. She cradled Pirate in her arms and curled up on the bed, waiting for sleep to come, which didn't take long.
She doesn't know how long she slept, but she was awakened by someone shaking her body.
"Wake up, Mel," Ava said, shaking her youngest daughter by the arm. "Dinner's ready."
The youngest opened her eyes slowly, the brightness of the room hitting her hard. She groaned in frustration and covered her face with her arms, giving Pirate space to escape and jump to the floor.
"Jeez, you haven't even showered yet."
"It's not Saturday." Mel grumbled and removed her arms from her face to glare at her older sister and try to accuse her of not having showered either, but her sister was already in her pajamas and smelling of vanilla.
Ava rolled her eyes and threw a fluffy gray towel in her younger sister's face. Aware of her sister, she predicted she would collapse on the bed as soon as she got to her room.
"Go shower already, and quickly before the food gets cold."
Melissa grumbled something else as her sister left the room. Even with the pain and laziness taking over her body, she stood up with the towel in hand and went to the bathroom.
She took a quick shower, enough to wash away the day's grime and the constant ache in her body, and put on a tight black tank top and matching sweatpants. She headed toward the kitchen, where the small table for four was already set, the smell of meat lasagna wafting through the air, making Mel's stomach growl.
"Finally, food," the brunette said, sitting at the table, taking a piece of lasagna and placing it on her plate.
The older woman let out a soft laugh and also served herself a generous slice of lasagna. They ate in silence. Mel had been accustomed to this routine for years, where they always shared dinner, whether alone or with others. It was practically a tradition; they couldn't eat without the other present.
Mel smiled, appreciating her sister for never leaving her, even in difficult times.
The television was on, playing music in the background; the local news was broadcasting, and a beautiful woman in elegant attire was delivering the main news of the evening.
"Another brutal murder took place this Tuesday, May 6th. New York Metropolitan Police discovered the body of Mark Smith, 45, in a warehouse in a remote area of Manhattan. The investigation into who killed him and ten other victims in recent years remains ongoing." The journalist said.
That caught the younger girl's attention, and she lifted her head to pay attention to the report. She was studying journalism, so having the news on in the house was practically a given. Mel dreamed of one day becoming an investigative reporter or a criminalist, since such a delicate and macabre subject had always fascinated her.
"Are you still investigating this?" Melissa asked, without taking her eyes off the television.
"Yes, this is the fifth murder involving the same victim pattern and a similar modus operandi. We're looking for clues… but it's hard to connect the dots," Ava explained, finishing a bite of lasagna. "The victims are upper-class: lawyers, politicians, judges—always in that same bracket. Everyone we found was in horrific condition, but well-positioned."
"So the killer knows what he's doing?"
"Of course. He's extremely methodical and controlling; he's displaying the bodies for us like a macabre work of art." It's a priority case, but we don't know his exact motivation.
"What do you mean?"
"Two of the five victims so far were women, and three of them had clean criminal records, which rules out the theory of a possible vigilante… he's an arrogant serial killer who sees the murders as a spectacle," the older woman said, taking a bite of her lasagna.
Mel nodded slowly and used her fork to stir her food. She had studied serial killer cases like Ted Bundy, Zodiac, and BTK, searching for information and trying to understand what went on in their minds and how a serial killer is formed— whether by trauma or by being born evil, if such a thing existed.
Having a serial killer in New York was intriguing, to say the least. Of course, she wasn't happy with the news, and it made her stomach churn whenever a new victim appeared, but there was a morbid curiosity inside her, wondering how far he would go.
"I imagine Carol is a nervous wreck right now." The youngest commented.
"Don't even tell me, the media is all over her. I've never seen her so stressed as she has been this past month," Ava confirmed.
Carol Danvers was the captain of the police station where Ava worked. She was also a longtime friend of the Golds, having lent them her house when the girls had to flee after the tragic accident that occurred at their former residence. The Danvers family was generous enough to help the two get back on their feet, and for that they would always be grateful.
As if on cue, an interview with Carol about the case began to play on the television.
"You'll catch him, don't worry." Mel turned to her sister and gave a slight smile of support.
Ava nodded as she looked down at her plate. Something, which the younger girl hadn't noticed, flashed through her green eyes.
"I know we will."
𓄋
The morning chill cut through the trees and stirred the canopies, causing dry, orange leaves to fall from the branches, decorating the New York streets, contrasting with the gray-tinted sky. The streets of Manhattan were already bustling with activity, people going to work, dropping their children off at school, businesses open, everyone with a routine to follow.
Melissa's thick boots slapped against the abraded sidewalk, as she clutched the straps of her small black backpack as she walked, Ava's equally black scarf wrapped around her neck, covering her mouth and nose. Ava had insisted she wear it, not wanting her to catch a cold. It had her sister's distinctive scent. Mel also wore black cargo pants, a tight, long-sleeved blouse of the same color, and an old leather jacket she'd gotten when she was twenty, now twenty-three. And not even the thick jacket could protect her weakened ribs from the cold.
She walked the streets with a simple goal: to hand in her resume. She wasn't good at holding down a steady job; Mel lost count of how many side hustles she'd taken on for very short periods of time. Her biggest problem was her inability to keep her mouth shut.
She was fired from her last job — which was a great one, by the way — for arguing with her boss. She worked at a game store, and one day he told her to stay two hours longer than her usual workday, and he couldn't pay her overtime. Mel obviously didn't accept it, and an argument ensued, resulting in her being fired.
She was used to this, to short-lived jobs. She told Ava she wasn't cut out for the job, but the truth was she couldn't tolerate injustice, wasn't used to being told what to do, and respecting authority had never been on her resume. Of course, she wasn't stupid enough to argue for nothing and slack off, but she had the misfortune of always ending up with a lazy boss.
Her sister was never happy about it and said she wouldn't be able to pay for any of Mel's college tuition in the coming months, since she was basically the one covering all the expenses. In other words, she had to fend for herself.
She wandered around all morning, dropping off her resume wherever she could. Food stores, clothing stores, kiosks, places needing a receptionist... Mel searched as much as she could, trying to advertise herself, but the answer was always the same.
We'll call you as soon as possible.
And they never called.
She was tired from all the walking; the cold seemed to have intensified, and she huddled in her leather jacket, feeling the thin, biting wind dancing through her dark locks, her face flushed from the low temperature. Melissa leaned against a wall next to an alley, opened her small backpack, and removed a pack of cigarettes. She took one out and pulled her black lighter with a Kuromi sticker glued to it from her pants pocket. When she pressed the button, a small flame appeared, and then she lit the cigarette.
Mel wore her black headphones; they were an inseparable accessory for her, almost a matter of life or death. She couldn't go without listening to music, no matter the occasion.
As the nicotine absorbed, she felt her tense body instantly relax. She exhaled the smoke and watched it blend with the gray of the day. She tried to find comfort in the hope that she would find a job soon. She desperately needed one or she would be forced to drop out of journalism school, the only worthwhile thing she was doing in life.
"Fuck." Mel cursed and took another drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side and running her free hand through her hair in frustration. "I need something, please, just a sign."
The street was absurdly quiet. The only thing she could hear was the sound of classic rock music echoing from her headphones. She looked to her left and saw a rectangular crimson facade that caught her attention. It stood out from the other buildings; it was a beautiful building with well-placed gold details on the sides, the arabesque shape of the ornaments reminiscent of a chic Italian restaurant. The name was prominently displayed in the center, in a sophisticated calligraphy font:
Belladonna.
Melissa looked through the glass that made up the structure. Inside, it was a spacious restaurant. Even with the lights off, she could see the large, elegantly decorated tables, hanging chandeliers, and decorations that were probably worth more than her entire house.
After such a run of bad luck, luck finally decided to smile upon her. Just to the right, there was a sign taped to the inside of the glass, announcing that they were hiring new waiters.
"That's it!" The girl grinned, approaching the poster to pick up the contact number written on it.
She tossed the cigarette away after a final drag and stomped on it to put it out, then pulled her cell phone from her pocket to write down the number. As she did so, Melissa felt a chill run down her spine, making the small hairs on her neck stand on end. A strange feeling of being watched washed over her.
With a quick movement, she looked back and found the street practically empty. There were one or two cars passing by, an elderly couple entering an antique shop, and a woman with her back to her on the other side of the street, staring at the window of a designer store. The woman caught Mel's attention because she was wearing a women's suit that matched the color of the restaurant's facade. She seemed smaller than her, imposing, with dark brown hair that fell softly over her shoulders.
She was startled when the restaurant door opened with a sharp bang, distracting Melissa from the strange sensation. A woman with long brown hair, a sharp face, full lips, and dark eyes appeared. She wore a black tank top with lace details and low-rise blue jeans, and Mel wondered why she wasn't wearing a coat in the cold weather.
"Seeing the job poster?" was the first thing the woman said.
Melissa was silent for a few seconds. Perhaps the woman had been watching her from inside, and that's why she felt observed. She took off her headphones to answer the woman.
"Yeah... yes. I need a job. I have customer service experience and I've worked at a coffee shop before as a waitress," Mel said, but didn't mention that she was fired after accidentally spilling hot coffee on a man who was verbally harassing her.
The dark-eyed woman looked her up and down, as if pondering Mel's words.
"Do you want to do a interview?"
Melissa frowned. This was such luck that she was doubting the goodness of the universe. Would she have the opportunity to interview like this? Without humiliating herself first?
"Okay, what's the catch?" The brunette crossed her arms.
"No catch, we need new waiters. Do you want to try for the job or not?" The other woman arched an eyebrow, showing she wasn't very patient.
She really needed that job, she had to pay for college, and the restaurant didn't look like a run-of-the-mill dive, but something upscale and top-notch.
What could possibly go wrong?
"What can I do, right? Let's go." Melissa shrugged and followed the woman into the restaurant.
The restaurant, inside, seemed even larger. It smelled of rich people, and immediately had an elegant reception area with a marble counter, floral arrangements, and a chandelier overhead that was off; the only thing illuminating the restaurant was the dull light streaming through the glass. Further on, the brunette caught a glimpse of the main dining room. It was spacious, with crystal chandeliers suspended on barely noticeable wires. The walls alternated between reddish-brown panels and smooth gold surfaces, decorated with artwork that Mel guessed was very expensive. Light-topped tables were evenly spaced throughout the room, all dressed with black linen tablecloths without a single visible food stain.
Further back, there was a white door with a single round window. This was likely the kitchen door. The restrooms were in another hallway, but the woman — who introduced herself as Rio a while later — led Mel to the elegant staircase that led to the restaurant's second floor. Climbing the steps, she found a long hallway with three doors. Rio led her to the second, which had Rio Vidal written in a simple lettering, and below it was "management." But Melissa noticed another door before that.
Valentina Allegra De Fontaine. General Director.
"You may have a seat," Rio said as he opened the door for the younger woman, making room for her to enter.
Rio's office was white inside, with a wooden bookshelf with a few books and files, a wide dark wood desk with a computer and papers on it, a jar of pens, and a picture frame facing away from Mel.
She watched the older woman sit in the leather chair behind the desk and interlace her fingers over the surface.
"Can you tell me your name and age?"
"My name is Melissa Gold, I'm twenty-three years old." She introduced herself and settled into the leather chair. Despite the comfort of the upholstery, the space felt strangely claustrophobic.
"You told me you had experience in customer service. What was your last job?"
"It was at a game store on the back street, about six months, but the coffee shop was the longest. I worked there for about two years." Mel replied, scratching the back of her neck. She regretted smoking earlier; she probably smelled of tobacco on her skin.
Rio grabbed a notepad and jotted something down before continuing with his questions.
"Do you go to college?"
"I'm studying journalism at the NYU."
Melissa noticed Rio's curious gaze. Mel didn't know what impression she was giving — she hoped it was a good one — but few would have guessed she was studying at a prestigious university due to her... lively personality.
"Congratulations on your achievement," the older woman praised in a mild tone. "Well, we're short on waiters. What we want are people who are dedicated to their work, can handle busy nights, can work under pressure, are organized, and know how to respect orders. Our last waiter was fired after getting into an argument with the restaurant owner."
The girl swallowed hard, knowing she would need to control herself in this new job. She couldn't afford to let her impulsiveness get the better of her and screw everything up. Ava would be incredibly disappointed.
She needed to make her sister proud for once in her life.
"I can be all of that. In fact, I can be anything anyone asks of me. I spent the whole morning chasing jobs, I have my resume with me if I want it." Mel gave a tired smile.
"Sounds perfect. Email it to me and I'll read it and pass it on to my boss." Rio smiled and handed the other woman a card with the restaurant's email address. "Just know that working with my boss isn't perfect, but you get used to it in time."
"Is she that bad?"
"Valentina isn't bad, just a perfectionist."
𓄋
She could say she left that restaurant with hope — well, at least that's what she believed. Rio seemed to like her, or she was just desperate to fill the void left by the old waiter and didn't want to anger her terrible boss.
Melissa knew this boss would probably be a headache, but nothing she wasn't willing to put up with. If it meant not giving Ava any more trouble, Mel would face the worst of monsters.
She practically skipped home, aside from the fact that she'd missed a day of college to job hunt. She felt happy that at least one thing in her life had a ninety percent chance of working out. She hoped the restaurant owner would approve her resume.
She got home around nine o'clock. She'd spent some time at a friend's house to "celebrate" her achievement — even though she didn't even know if she'd gotten the job — and now she hoped her sister had made dinner and wasn't stuck at the police station like she had last week.
Upon arriving home, to her surprise, the sound of voices coming from the living room reached her ears. Mel dropped her boots by the door and went to check what was happening.
She found her sister on the couch with Carol Danvers and another of their colleagues, Natasha Romanoff. She didn't see the russian as much as she would have liked; on the other hand, she saw Yelena, Natasha's younger sister, practically all the time. Natasha had always been good friends with her sister since Ava started at the police station; Mel was used to seeing that scene, her older sister gathered with her friends after a long day of work.
"Hey guys." Mel makes her presence known to the three adults.
The women look at the girl and smile, happy to see her.
"Hey, little Ava," Natasha says, taking another sip of beer. "I heard you got beaten up in college. I thought Ava taught you how to fight."
"Leave the girl alone." Carol scolds the woman and turns her gaze to the younger woman. "How are you doing, Lissa?"
Lissa.
Mel haven't heard that name in a long time. It was a pet name she got from Carol. She liked it. Carol was the only one who called her that way.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking." The brunette smiled and looked at Natasha. "Ava did teach me how to fight, I was just caught off guard."
"She was discovered to be a girl's lover, and her cuckold girlfriend didn't like it." The older Ava revealed the situation.
Natasha let out a loud laugh, and Carol shook her head, and Mel just wanted to hide her head in a hole and disappear.
"Shut up, Ava!" the younger one scolded.
"You need to deal with the consequences of your actions, Mel." Ava shrugged and took a sip of the beer she was holding. "How are your ribs?"
"Same shit."
"Bruises on the ribs are always a pain, take good care of them." Natasha pointed with the index finger of the hand holding the can at the blonde. "And next time, hide who you're seeing."
"Next time, don't be with someone in a relationship, for a change." Ava remarked in a serious tone.
The younger woman sighed deeply and scratched the back of her neck. She had learned her lesson; she wouldn't do any more stupid things for a while.
She approached the women and sat across from them. She rolled her head to relax her neck muscles and grabbed a remaining beer from the pack thrown on the floor. She opened the bottle and took a sip, the surprisingly still-cold liquid sliding down her throat like a victory.
"I think I got a job," she said after swallowing the drink and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Ava tilted her head slightly to the side, as if searching for the veracity of her sister's words.
"Are you sure?"
"Damn, great support for the girl, Ava." Natasha scoffed.
Carol, who also knew about the younger Gold's reputation for jobs, had the same doubt as her friend.
"Where do you think you got a job, Lissa?"
"Um, at a rich-people's restaurant called Belladonna, something like that." Mel drank more of her beer before continuing. "I was called in for a job interview by the manager. I think she liked me, she said she'd give me an answer tomorrow."
"It'll work out, sweetie. Working in a restaurant is tough, but at least it's decent," Natasha said.
"I'm happy for you, Melissa. I hope this one lasts a long time." Her sister smiled and raised her beer can in a sign of health.
"Well, here's to Lissa's almost-new job." Carol saluted and raised her beer can.
The four of them clinked their cans in honor of the job Mel wasn't even sure she'd gotten, but she was happy with the support of her older sisters; she felt loved.
And in that moment, Melissa felt that nothing could burst their bubble of happiness, not even the horrors happening outside.