The room dimly lit by a computer monitor and a desk lamp gave off charm only a certain person could admire. Maybe that charm was more desired these days considering the industrial boom of modern-age technology. Myfanwy circled her index finger round and round on her desk. She stared at the monitor as if waiting for it to grow legs and start dancing. Her gaze was equally fixed and lost in some far off land all at once. On her desk was a prescription of some sertraline pills, some framed aged photos and a bag of opened, semi-stale potato chips. The only thing that was breaking the monotony yet adding to the cliche was the hum of her computer’s cooling fans: who’s name she dubbed ‘Moses’, since it was kind of aged compared to it’s news counterparts.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“--all passengers missing. The train appeared to have been full when it left the station earlier in the morning, only one of the twelve cars was affected by the--”</span><br/><br/>“Your pretzel melt panini, no caramelized onions? And a white chocolate mocha, hot with a shot of espresso...at 11:16pm.” remarked an aged husky voice with a medium-fade peppering grey hair and full beard from behind Myfanwy’s position at her desk. In an unenthusiastic swivel in her chair, she got up muttering ‘thank you’ and began rolling her shoulders. “How much do I owe you, Jewels?” “Your soul. This is the fifth run this week.” scoffed Julius. To a stranger it was rude but it was endearing to Myfanwy. “<span style="font-style: italic">Joo-lee-usss</span>” she stretched.<br/><br/>“No.”<br/><br/>Myfanwy sat at her cheap circle table and began taking mouthfuls of the panini. Julius leaned against the door frame with a disappointed sigh as he eyed the state of Myfanwy’s hide-out.  “You think you can actually clean this place for once,<span style="font-style: italic">Ms. Lara Croft?</span>” The munching stopped and a sharp look came from the young woman, “Then go put on the maid outfit I picked out for you.” Julius gave out a quick chuckle in reply to the nerve he poked, knowingly. Myfanwy<span style="font-style: italic">hated</span>the “Lara Croft” comments, even though it wasn’t far from the truth. During her childhood, she grew up in a wealthy middle-class religious family. Being an only child, her mother, father and surviving grandmother adored her. Her mother was as sweet as a white lilies, being a devoted loving wife and church woman. Until Myfanwy got a dark character arch.<br/><br/>During the night of her mother’s bible study, Myfanwy sat in the pew with her. She remembers the air feeling hollow, but it smelled<span style="font-style: italic">so</span>devilishly sweet. Like fresh crepes of all things. As the voices of the women became whispers then falling to silence. She looked to her mother who had such a pleasant smile on her face. But it was a smile of pity and relief, yet her eyes wide with a sort of fearful excitement. The strange act of the congregation led to the disappearance of seven women that night. The only reason why Myfanwy made it out was because she tugged away from her mother’s grip, finding herself in the parking lot for hours waiting for someone to come by. As a child she believed they were still in there, but after police arrived there was no evidence of a single body being in there at all. It was ruled as a bizarre religious extremist act and it pioneered her father to make it a national best-selling book of the trauma. Long story short, she hated churches, the blood-money it brought, and herself for not being there with her mother. She could have gone without the “cultist” tabloids, too.<br/><br/>“Myfi...” Julius finally spoke up. “Kid, your dad is getting old. He’s trying to make peace with you and he funds all your half-completed ideas. And your treatments. The least you could do is--``''This speech? Again?” she stood up grabbing her coffee and slinging her backpack over her shoulders. Her thick pin-straight auburn hair was in a very messy bun, as she added a few more bobby pins to it before standing in front of the door. There was a long pause, she even debated on saying what she wanted. A thousand times over and the paradox persists.  “Mom would be flipping in her empty casket we buried if she knew what they said for the attention and money.” Julius remained silent, and let her talk. “I don’t care… you can come or you can wait for me. Besides, dad would be thrilled if we found evidence for his next novel. Isn’t that what dad hired you for anyway? You get to babysit, and I get to not be written out of the will.” Julius licked his teeth and fixed his gaze on Myfanwy. Opening the door, she walked out and began to close it but it was stopped by a black boot.<br/><br/>“You with your never ending melancholia...” he grunted.<br/><br/>“Glad you made acquaintance with the left side of your cerebrum, Jewels.”