There were plenty of weapons hidden without her house for dangerous scenarios. She never knew when something would arise where she needed to protect herself. She grabs the gun from the drawer, checking if ammunition was loaded in the clip. Once she confirms, she clicks the clip back in place. Then slowly walking towards the direction of the sound: Her living room.
Her condo was entirely silent, a pin could be heard dropping in the cutting silence. Only little creeks under her wet feet as she stepped closer and closer into the living room. Gun pointed in front of her, stepping carefully. Home invasions were something she was able to handle, she had handled much worse.
Walking into the living room, Amelia scans the area with her gun. No person was in sight, however a window was broken through. Glass shattered onto the floor in pieces, the wind blowing through the now busted frame. She sighs at the sight, before going around the couch to check the full extent of the damage. Being in front of the shattered glass, sits a package.
Amelia's eyebrows raise, pulling her gun down to her side. She kneels down to look at the box, noticing the oddity of it. There was no forwarding address, no shipping address. A simple box, with her name scribbled and sprawled over every corner of the box. The letters were written in dark ink, sloppy and sporadic. Covered with basic tape, to keep it sealed shut.
She pulls the box towards her, hands gripping onto it. "It's not labeled to any address, yet they knew I lived here.." Breaking a window to just leave a simple package? There had to be some sort of catch to this picture.
What type of person would only break a window to leave a box with no identification? Surely the person wished to take some credit for their stunt, yet there was nothing. Amelia contemplates for a moment, hands holding onto the sides of the box.
She was going to open it.
The tape was weak, her hand grips onto the middle part of the folds: Pulling the left side to split the tape. With a swift motion, she pulls onto the other side opening the box. Immediately a rancid aroma hits her nose. Her nostrils scrunch up in disgust at the sudden smell, placing her hand over her nose. Had the smell not suddenly hit her senses, she would have been amused. It was a normal package, with a very dangerous way of delivering.
Amelia leans over to look into the box.
[MENTION OF GORE BELOW.]
Emerald hues immediately widen at the sight within the cardboard walls. Sat in the middle of the box, was a human eyeball. Severed from the eye stem, dry blood around the cornea. Newspaper laid underneath the severed body part, covered in shades of dark dried fluids. Its hue dark brown, the eye angled as if it was staring directly at her. The horrid sight causes Amelia to fall back, scooting until her back hits the couch.
Her entire body was shaking, hands held up against her mouth. "Oh my God.." She whimpers to herself, tears threatening to escape her eyes. Amelia shakes her head repeatedly, hands moving to grip her hair.
"A-A human eye. They gave me a human eye." Her tears fall down her cheeks, not even bothering to hold them in anymore. She had handled bodies her entire career, but never had she been mailed a person's body part.
That was someone's child, parent, friend, lover: She had a piece of them. The image made her sick, the situation had her stomach turning as she rocked back and forth. Amelia couldn't compose herself, she could not stop the tears flooding her eyes. Amelia fumbles to rise from her place, stumbling to run back to her bedroom.
Once there, her hands shakingly grab her phone. Dialing the one person she knew would listen to her, placing the phone to her ear. Her entire body shaking, choking back sobs as the phone rang. The ringing in her ear, felt like an eternity before the phone clicked.
[END OF MENTIONED GORE.]
"Amelia, is everything alright?" Dallas answers, Amelia sniffling to keep her tears at bay.
"D-dallas, we have a problem." Swallowing down her fear, she tries to keep a confident tone. She knew that it didn't sound that way at all, but she would try nonetheless.
"Problem? Did something happen?" He questions, Amelia rubs the tears off of her cheeks.
"I just need you to come home..Somebody broke a window in our house. They left a package, and the package–" Amelia hiccups, placing her hand over her mouth to hold back her cries. She squeezes her eyes shut tight.
"Someone broke into our home to give you a package? What about the package? Amelia, you need to speak, talk to me. What happened, did you see anyone?" His voice was filled with urgency, she could hear the shuffling on his end of the call.
"--The package had a human eye in it." She croaks, "I didn't see anyone, I-I checked. I need you to come home, I need you."
"Stay where you are, I'm leaving now. Don't go near the box. Make sure to keep your gun on you." She can hear the slamming of a door on Dallas' end of the conversation.
"I will, I will. Please get here soon." She pleads, before hanging up the phone. Placing the phone down, her head turns in the direction of the living room.
How could someone be so sick and twisted to do such a thing. The world was cruel, unkind to innocence. An innocent person was killed no doubt for this display. Not only was Amelia afraid for her safety, she was afraid for the citizens of Los Angeles. A tyrant was roaming the streets freely, taking the lives of people for their own entertainment. Their own personal gain, as if the common person was one single card in a deck. Her stomach turned, Amelia wanted to vomit.
She had only just seen the image, and now she couldn't get it out of her mind. If she had thought it was a simple package, she would have reached her hand into it. How would she have felt not only seeing a severed eye, but holding it in her hands. Someone's eye, soaking her small palms in crimson red. The thought alone would live within the nightmares she had every night.
The minutes felt like years, she needed Dallas to arrive faster than time would allow him. Being independent was always something she prided herself in, but this was different. She wanted him here, she needed him here. To simply hold her, to cry to him. How could she be brazen and confident when something so unexpected had happened? Somewhere she felt safe, somewhere that was her comfort.
Whoever had done this, had messed with the wrong woman. Although she was startled now, soon she would be back to her element. Out for blood, not wanting to cease her search to find who was responsible. Not only for her sanity, but the victim's family. The family would be able to have their loved one whole again, she would make sure of it. A sick individual using body parts like toys, stripping the human body of its personification.
The eye was simply an eye, no matter where the person had gotten it. Sociopaths, psychopaths, they only thought of themselves. Seeing others as mere objects, play things to get to their ending goal. Amelia knew this was not an ending goal. She didn't know where this moment would lead, but it was not at its end here.
The agent knew things had just begun, Amelia would go head first into the deep sea of danger.
Creaking of hinges hit her ears, slamming followed behind it. Amelia quickly runs out of the room, peering into the hallway to see Dallas. His eyes widened, looking at Amelia with deep worry.
She takes no time to run to him, colliding into his chest as she quietly sobs. Gripping onto the fabric of his shirt, while his arms wrapped around her small frame.
"It's okay Amelia, it's okay. I'm here, I'm here." He shushes her, running his fingers through her hair. Softly, yet holding her with a grip tighter than anything before.
"I could have held it, I could have—" Amelia chokes back her sobs, burying her face into the man's chest.
"I know, I know Amelia. I need you to calm down, okay?" Dallas gently pulls his arms back, placing his hands on her cheeks instead. "Sit down, I'm going to have a look okay? I'll call your team, get them over here." She sniffles, nodding at his requests.
Lovingly, he guides her over to a seat in the kitchen. Leaving her to sit by herself, eyes watching his movements. Dallas looks into the box just as she had done, but his reaction was the opposite to hers. He had no reaction at all: Stone faced, completely void of fear or shock. With ease he picks the box up from the floor, putting on the living room counter.
Her gaze pulls away from him, unable to stand looking at the opened box in the same direction. The sight of bodies held no shock value as the years went on, however to have been given such a thing inside her home. People could easily find out her address for purposes of their own design: This one was perhaps the worst.