Her eyes were the color of an ice storm as she stomped in the room. Her black hair was piled on top of her head in curly ringlets. Outside, thunder cracked through the night.
"She," she snapped accusingly, "is not supposed to be here." She pointed her perfectly manicured finger at the girl, breathing shallowly on the bed before her. Valencia looked up from the book he was reading in the lounge chair next to the bed.
"If dad finds out, he's going to flip." She said, almost happily.
"He's not going to find out, because you're not going to tell him." Valencia stated calmly, not moving from his seat.
"He's not stupid. He's going to find out; she's human and reeks like it." At the word 'human' her lip curled up a little.
"Calm down, Veah. She's here temporarily. It's none of your concern."
"I live here too! You and you're stupid experiments; I don't understand why you want to mess around with these things anymore." Vienna snapped, stomping her blue heeled foot on the finished wooden floor.
Valencia rolled his dark eyes. "She was hurt, nothing more than that. Now go back to the party, have fun, and don't worry about this."
The golden earrings chimed loudly as she turned on her heel and opened the door, before turning back to glare at him. "Get rid of her quickly, or she won't be here next time you look for her." With that, Vienna stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Valencia sighed to himself, before pulling out his cell phone and dialing. A little later that night, Valencia exited the room and headed upstairs. Not long after that, two nondescript men wearing black suits entered.
Upstairs, Valencia made his normal rounds. Shook hands with the businessmen his father had invited, greeted all the young women with a kiss on the cheek, and avoided his sister at all costs. It didn't take long, however, for Vienna to nearly stumble towards Valencia, a drink in her hand.
"How's your little project?" she asked, looking around at the party. She puckered her lips and caught the attention of a guy across the room.
"She's doing better now, thank you for asking." Valencia responded, knowing full well that she didn't care about the health of the girl downstairs.
"Lovely," she winked at the man across the room, "So what's the deal with her? You wanna patch her up and have your way with her? Or is this some sort of community service?"
"There's just something different about her." He answered, putting his hands into his suit pockets.
"There's always something different about them to you," Vienna responded, rolling her eyes. "They're all the same, so just stop trying to fix them." She motioned for the man to come forward, which he did. "Anyway, I'm off, I have a date with that man. Wish me luck." Vienna sauntered off, her blue dress swishing behind her.
Downstairs, one of the men kneeled next to the bed and checked for a pulse, while the other one put the pill bottles on the nightstand into his pockets. Before long, one of them hauled her frail body onto his shoulder and the other one led the way to the underground garage. She didn't move as they carried her through the well-furnished basement and into the adjoining garage. They laid her carefully into the backseat of the shiny, sleek, black Sedan, before taking off into the night.
The two were silent as they strained their eyes to look at the street signs. They drove quietly through what looked like suburbia before turning off onto a gravel road. They came to a small, one-story, house that looked like it needed a few repairs. As the Sedan came closer to the garage, the door rolled upward and allowed the car in. Inside, Valencia was waiting, his back against the wall, and arms crossed. As the car was pulled into park, Valencia opened the back door and picked up the girl. He carried her into the house and carefully laid her on the bed in the only bedroom. He covered her up with the comforter and checked her pulse. It was still beating, and something inside of him relaxed a little when he felt it. The other two men came inside the room cautiously, and Valencia retrieved the pills from one of the men, before dismissing them with more orders.
After they left, Valencia raked his fingers through his black hair before sitting down in the easy chair next to the end of the bed. He picked up his book and began reading, propping his feet on the support under the bed, his peripherals watching the girl for any major signs of life.