<div style="/*BASE BACKGROUND*/
margin: auto;
width: 400px;
height: 430px;
overflow: hidden;
background: white;
box-shadow: 1px 1px 20px black;
background-size:cover;"><br/>
<br/>
<div style="/*CHARACTER IMAGE*/
margin: relative;
margin-top: 20px;
position: relative;
z-index: 1;
margin-left: 10px;
width: 200px;
height: 300px;
background: url(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/41/95/72/4195728a32f50455e38ecac1967ccbff.gif);
background-position: 90% 50%;
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background-size:cover;">.</div><br/>
<div style="/*FIRST NAME*/
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height: 30px;
font-family: times new roman;
font-size: 15px;
letter-spacing: 1px;
border-bottom: 2px solid black;
color: black;
text-align: center;"><i>the bartender - i know why the caged bird sings</i></div><br/>
<div style="/*LAST NAME*/
margin: relative;
margin-top: -10px;
margin-left: 230px;
position: relative;
z-index: 1;
height: 30px;
font-family: times new roman;
font-size: 22px;
letter-spacing: 1px;
font-variant: small-caps;
color: black;
text-align: center;">Dan<br/>
Brown</div><br/>
<div style="/*TEXTBOX TOP BACKGROUND*/
margin: auto;
margin-top: -30px;
margin-right: -55px;
width: 300px;
height: 300px;
overflow: hidden;
opacity: 90%;
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<br/>
<div style="/*TEXT SCROLLBOX*/
margin:auto;
width: 160px;
height: 250px;
padding-bottom: 20px;
overflow: auto;
font-family: times new;
font-size: 11px;
color: black;
letter-spacing: 1px;
text-align: justify;">Groggy.<br/>
<br/>
That was exactly how he felt when he attempted to open his eyes from what felt like a marathon-long sleep. He'd been under anesthetic twice in his life: once to have his tonsils removed as a kid, and the other to have his appendix out after it ruptured while he was on a ski trip. Both times, he remembered struggling to open his eyes, insurmountable waves of darkness beckoning him back into a death-like sleep. A time that felt just like this. His eyes flickered open for a moment, pools of light blinding him from the cracked open curtains in the room.<br/>
<br/>
Sleep won the battle once again.<br/>
<br/>
For what felt like years later, Dan roused from his slumber with a heavy groan. He started by wiggling his fingers, shuffling them across the stiff bedsheets beneath his touch. The texture of the sheets beneath his fingertips felt rough, far more coarse and structured than his own bed sheets. Why was he so hyper-aware of a sudden? Was he high?<br/>
<br/>
He forced his eyes to open, plagued by an onset of blurred vision where he blinked rapidly in hopes of chasing the remnants of sleep away. An arm was flung across his eyes to shield his sensitive orbs from the light that penetrated through the room. Being a bartender meant late finishes and an even later bedtime. Very rarely did he forget to close the curtains in his bedroom before tucking in for the evening. Nights he forgot to do so, always equaled mornings like this. A real disturbance to his sleep pattern.<br/>
<br/>
Another baritone groan vibrated through his chest as his eyes began to focus. The ceiling at which he stared up was cream-coloured with a 90's popcorn texture. Immediately, a frown knitted his brows together. <i>This wasn't his bedroom. </i>Mustering every ounce of willpower he had to shake off the heavy limbs and foggy mind, Dan sat up. The first thing he did was glance down at himself. He was still fully clothed, wearing exactly what he'd worn to work the evening prior. Shoes, included. He was in a room that smelt musty, tangled with hints of weed. <i>What the fuck had happened?</i><br/>
<br/>
The last memory he had was working at the bar, serving drinks. It had been a night like most others - show up to work, make cocktails and serve overpriced drinks, shout at customers to confirm what they'd ordered. Nothing had been out of the ordinary. Hell, he hadn't even been drinking let alone indulging in drugs. How had his memory been swiped? He didn't have a history of blacking out, so how did he end up here?<br/>
<br/>
Shifting his attention around the room, Dan's attention fell onto a female resting on the bed, close to him. His brow furrowed upon recognition of who she was: <i>Izzy. </i>What was he doing in a strange room with Izzy?<br/>
<br/>
Recollections of the prior evening began to form in his mind, filling in some of the blanks. He remembered Izzy being at the club that night, indulging as per usual. They'd become friends over the past year - even more so than the regular bartender-patron relationship. She was troubled, he knew that much, and he'd always had a soft spot for her. So much that he'd had to deny her drinks a couple of times and attempt to pull her up when she went too far over the line. Glancing down at her now, Dan chewed on his lower lip. Had they...? With all of his clothes still strapped to his body, he dismissed the thought.<br/>
<br/>
Deciding it best to let her continue to sleep off the rough night she likely endured, Dan slipped his feet over the edge of the bed. He stumbled for balance briefly, reaching out to steady himself on a chair that was conveniently placed a couple of feet away.<br/>
<br/>
Coffee. He needed <i>coffee.</i><br/>
<br/>
Shuffling his feet along the carpeted floor, Dan's heart jumped rapidly. Red smudges stained the pale coloured floors. He halted and tilted his head while his eyes followed the trail. The substance was sticky and wet despite the carpet having absorbed the majority of the dampness. Dan had his fair share of breaking up bar room brawls, most of which ended with a series of injuries and a bloody mess to clean up. He quickly came to the conclusion it was blood he'd come across. Throwing his eyes back over his shoulder, the man focussed on Izzy. Had someone hurt her the previous night? Had <i>he </i>hurt her?<br/>
<br/>
As he stepped out into the living area, his stomach dropped. His blood ran cold and the impending urge to vomit tickled deep in his core. There denied his suspicions that he'd potentially hurt Izzy, but confirmed the fact that someone was indeed hurt.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Katie.</i><br/>
<br/>
Her limp body was sprawled across the floor, facing him with her arms outstretched. Lips that were once pink and plump had an unsettling blue tinge, darkened by dried blood. Her eyes were open, but unseeing, frozen in a deathly stare that was directed straight at him. Even from a distance, he could see the rope burn marks around her wrist and the way her neck had been sliced. Brunette locks were matted with blood as she lay there in a patch of red.<br/>
<br/>
All colour drained from Dan's face upon realisation.<br/>
<br/>
She was dead.<br/>
<br/>
</div></div><br/>
<div style="/*MEDIA PLATER*/
margin: auto;
width: 400px;
margin-top: -10px;
height: 20px;
z-index: 2;
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color: black;
text-align: center;"><br/>
<i class="fa fa-play-circle"></i><i class="fa fa-pause-circle"></i> quick musical doodles - two feet</div><div style="
margin-left: 50px;
margin-top: 0px;
width: 60px;
opacity: 0.01;
position: absolute;"><div class="bbMediaWrapper">
<div class="bbMediaWrapper-inner">
<iframe allowfullscreen="true" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/86cYacKLw5s?wmode=opaque" width="560"></iframe>
</div>
</div></div></div><br/><div style="margin:auto;
width:300px;
height:20px;
font-family: prata;
font-size: 10px;
color: #ffffff;
font-variant: italic;
text-shadow: 1px 1px 2px #000000;
letter-spacing: 0px;
text-align: center;">code by <i>saffron</i></div><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
<button class="bbCodeSpoiler-button button--longText button" data-xf-click="toggle" data-xf-init="tooltip" title="Click to reveal or hide spoiler" type="button"><span class="button-text">
<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">non-coded post</span></span>
</span></button>
<div class="bbCodeSpoiler-content">
<div class="bbCodeBlock bbCodeBlock--spoiler">
<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Groggy.<br/>
<br/>
That was exactly how he felt when he attempted to open his eyes from what felt like a marathon-long sleep. He'd been under anesthetic twice in his life: once to have his tonsils removed as a kid, and the other to have his appendix out after it ruptured while he was on a ski trip. Both times, he remembered struggling to open his eyes, insurmountable waves of darkness beckoning him back into a death-like sleep. A time that felt just like this. His eyes flickered open for a moment, pools of light blinding him from the cracked open curtains in the room.<br/>
<br/>
Sleep won the battle once again.<br/>
<br/>
For what felt like years later, Dan roused from his slumber with a heavy groan. He started by wiggling his fingers, shuffling them across the stiff bedsheets beneath his touch. The texture of the sheets beneath his fingertips felt rough, far more coarse and structured than his own bed sheets. Why was he so hyper-aware of a sudden? Was he high?<br/>
<br/>
He forced his eyes to open, plagued by an onset of blurred vision where he blinked rapidly in hopes of chasing the remnants of sleep away. An arm was flung across his eyes to shield his sensitive orbs from the light that penetrated through the room. Being a bartender meant late finishes and an even later bedtime. Very rarely did he forget to close the curtains in his bedroom before tucking in for the evening. Nights he forgot to do so, always equaled mornings like this. A real disturbance to his sleep pattern.<br/>
<br/>
Another baritone groan vibrated through his chest as his eyes began to focus. The ceiling at which he stared up was cream-coloured with a 90's popcorn texture. Immediately, a frown knitted his brows together. <i>This wasn't his bedroom. </i>Mustering every ounce of willpower he had to shake off the heavy limbs and foggy mind, Dan sat up. The first thing he did was glance down at himself. He was still fully clothed, wearing exactly what he'd worn to work the evening prior. Shoes, included. He was in a room that smelt musty, tangled with hints of weed. <i>What the fuck had happened?</i><br/>
<br/>
The last memory he had was working at the bar, serving drinks. It had been a night like most others - show up to work, make cocktails and serve overpriced drinks, shout at customers to confirm what they'd ordered. Nothing had been out of the ordinary. Hell, he hadn't even been drinking let alone indulging in drugs. How had his memory been swiped? He didn't have a history of blacking out, so how did he end up here?<br/>
<br/>
Shifting his attention around the room, Dan's attention fell onto a female resting on the bed, close to him. His brow furrowed upon recognition of who she was: <i>Izzy. </i>What was he doing in a strange room with Izzy?<br/>
<br/>
Recollections of the prior evening began to form in his mind, filling in some of the blanks. He remembered Izzy being at the club that night, indulging as per usual. They'd become friends over the past year - even more so than the regular bartender-patron relationship. She was troubled, he knew that much, and he'd always had a soft spot for her. So much that he'd had to deny her drinks a couple of times and attempt to pull her up when she went too far over the line. Glancing down at her now, Dan chewed on his lower lip. Had they...? With all of his clothes still strapped to his body, he dismissed the thought.<br/>
<br/>
Deciding it best to let her continue to sleep off the rough night she likely endured, Dan slipped his feet over the edge of the bed. He stumbled for balance briefly, reaching out to steady himself on a chair that was conveniently placed a couple of feet away.<br/>
<br/>
Coffee. He needed <i>coffee.</i><br/>
<br/>
Shuffling his feet along the carpeted floor, Dan's heart jumped rapidly. Red smudges stained the pale coloured floors. He halted and tilted his head while his eyes followed the trail. The substance was sticky and wet despite the carpet having absorbed the majority of the dampness. Dan had his fair share of breaking up bar room brawls, most of which ended with a series of injuries and a bloody mess to clean up. He quickly came to the conclusion it was blood he'd come across. Throwing his eyes back over his shoulder, the man focussed on Izzy. Had someone hurt her the previous night? Had <i>he </i>hurt her?<br/>
<br/>
As he stepped out into the living area, his stomach dropped. His blood ran cold and the impending urge to vomit tickled deep in his core. There denied his suspicions that he'd potentially hurt Izzy, but confirmed the fact that someone was indeed hurt.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Katie.</i><br/>
<br/>
Her limp body was sprawled across the floor, facing him with her arms outstretched. Lips that were once pink and plump had an unsettling blue tinge, darkened by dried blood. Her eyes were open, but unseeing, frozen in a deathly stare that was directed straight at him. Even from a distance, he could see the rope burn marks around her wrist and the way her neck had been sliced. Brunette locks were matted with blood as she lay there in a patch of red.<br/>
<br/>
All colour drained from Dan's face upon realisation.<br/>
<br/>
She was dead.</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>