not-so-bad

[not-so-bad]

"Abbey...?"

Abbey has been sitting at her desk staring at the table for about 15 minutes — the bell went 10 minutes ago. She hasn't said a word and she's barely moving; her teacher has gotten worried.

"Abbey, are you okay?" He slowly moves closer, crouching down beside the small table, just beside Abbey.

Abbey puts her head on the table. "Hurts," she mumbles.

The teacher blinks, eyebrows raising his eyebrows slightly. "What hurts, kiddo?"

"Head."

Her teacher looks slightly more concerned than before. "A headache?"

Abbey hums quietly, a very slight shake of her head. "Fell back."

The teacher takes a moment to look at the back of her head, eyes widening at what he sees. "Oh God–"

————————

It's been 3 hours since Anatoliy was called to pick Abbey up from school — she had to get stitches; how did nobody notice an injury that big in the back of her head?

He swears he's not upset with her teacher, so long as he doesn't think about it too much.

He's managed to get her to settle down now that they're home, making her favourite small meal for dinner.

"Abbey, liten stjerne... How's your head doing?" he asks softly, never very loud when he talks to her.

"'S better," she responds, swaying from side to side in her chair.

Anatoliy smiles, though he's still worried about one particular detail. "That's good." It seems like that'll be the only thing he says. "Abbey, why didn't you tell anyone that you fell?"

"Didn't hurt at the time."

[not-so-bad]

26/06/2024, 11:24

It's always a source of panic when Anatoliy gets a call from Abbey's school; it's always because she's hurt in some way.

Abbey's key worker meets him in the office, where Abbey is sitting in completely silence holding her inhaler. "We're sorry to call you here on such short notice but–"

Anatoliy cuts him off. "Is she okay?" he asks.

"She's fine now, sir; we managed to give her her inhaler just in time," he explains quickly. "But she'd like to go home — the only thing she's said since her breath came back is that she wants you."

"Of course." Anatoliy sighs quietly, crouching down in front of Abbey with a soft smile, laced with concern. "Well, I'm here now, okay, Kiddo?"

Abbey looks at him with tired eyes. "jeg vil hjem," she mumbles tearfully.

"I know, liten stjerne.."

[not-so-bad]

12/07/2024, 13:24

"Mr P., you know a pacemaker would solve all your problems, right?"

Anatoliy's youngest regular patient, Enzo, who has been refusing to accept the offer of a free appointment to get a pacemaker in his chest, remains stubborn. However, Anatoliy has a bet that he'd like to win — $1028 and a 7% pay raise is a lot of money and he needs that.

Enzo shakes his head. "One EMP and it'll stop working; wouldn't that be more dangerous than not having one on the first place?"

Anatoliy sighs. "It's fairly rare that an EMP would actually happen anywhere near you, given that you're a lawyer."

"Yeah, but–"

"And wouldn't it be nice to have a guarantee that you'll see your daughter graduate one day?"

Enzo goes quiet and Anatoliy's eyebrows raise. "... Yeah. Yeah, it would be."

"I'll check with the surgeon."

"Thank you."

[not-so-bad]

27/06/2024, 21:38

Anatoliy is at Allan's doorstep again, holding Abbey's hand, the sleeves of an oversized cardigan covering his arms as he knocks lightly on the door. He has sunglasses on but it makes sense in this weather. He looks tired regardless.

Allan opens the door, clearly concerned. "What's up?"

"I need a favour," Anatoliy responds quietly, gently ushering Abbey into the house; he doesn't want her to hear this.

"Anything," Allan responds once Abbey is no longer within earshot.

Anatoliy sighs softly, scratching at his arm for a moment. "Could you take Abbey for a while? Please?" His voice is quiet, laced with an understandable amount of guilt.

Allan nods slowly. "'Course I can... You okay?' He's always saw Anatoliy as a younger brother, so seeing him this clearly upset is worrying to him.

"Yeah, I'm fine it's just–" He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sniffles lightly. "I've gone full-circle. 'M sorry; I really was trying not to–"

"Anatoliy. It isn't your fault, you're under a lot of stress."

"I know, I know, but–" He sighs, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "Can I... stay here for a while? I just can't stay in that house right now.." he asks softly, clearly not proud of himself for having to do this.

Allan simply ushers him inside. "Stay as long as you need."

[not-so-bad]

27/12/2000, 17:23

"Anatoliy, kom hit." An older man with dirty blonde hair, clearly Anatoliy's father, calls him over, though he's not sure where the child is.

Anatoliy quietly walks into the room, picking at the scratches on his arms as he nervously looks at his father. "Hm?"

"Slutt å klø, dumme gutt," he hisses, standing up and walking closer to the little boy. "Hvorfor er du våken?"

[not-so-bad]

23/06/2024, 02:31

Anatoliy has been crying on his bathroom floor for the last 22 minutes, blood running down his forearms. The same blood that's on the razor.

He'd been doing so well.

He hadn't even realised he'd done it until the sting of the cuts actually started to manifest properly. He doesn't even know what triggered it; he'd just woken up and gone to the bathroom and he's so sorry.

Worthless, incompetent, disappointing–

On top of that, he's hearing things again, whispers —mostly in the voice of his ex-wife, a few in his dad's — the things they used to say to him.

"I-I'm– 'M sorry..." he sobs out quietly, curling in on himself as he covers his ears.

[not-so-bad]

20/03/2024, 17:24

"Uncle Allan?" Abbey has been silently staring out the window of Allan's car for about 30 minutes now, clearly thinking about something

Allan is glad to hear her speak. "Yeah, kiddo?"

"Papa's sad," she mumbles, looking forward so that Allan can see her face in the rear-view mirror. She looks concerned.

"Sad?" Allan, aware of Anatoliy's past, seems concerned as well; sad is never good.

"Heard him crying."

Allan pulls the car to the side of the road. "When, kiddo?" he asks, turning to look at her properly.

"Last night. Wha' do the coins mean?"

He sighs softly, a a slight frown on his face. "Well, little princess... This week is very difficult for your papa," he begins to explain, trying to soften it as much as possible. "He had a.. a problem before you were born. He's getting better but he has bad days sometimes which is where the crying comes from — Papa's just having a really hard time at the moment."

Abbey is quiet for a moment, looking at her hands as she processes the information. Then she asks one simple question: "Why?"

The question stumps Allan — how does he answer that? "Well, um... I'm not too sure, Kiddo," he responds, calm and careful.

"Oh... Can I help him?"

"Sure you can, Abbey.. You just keep being you, okay?"

Abbey thinks for a moment. She can keep being herself; she always has been. "Okay."

He continues to drive Abbey home in silence, the only noise being the song on the radio.

He'd have to ask how she knew about the coins later.

[not-so-bad]

19/03/2024, 23:04

Anatoliy has been struggling recently.

He's been having, as his therapist used to call them, cravings all month — really, he knows he's on the brink of a relapse if he doesn't find a way to curb it. Maybe he should take a break from work, ease some of the stress in his life.

It's been 5 years. He's been sober for 5 years; he's been clean for 2 — he knows he can work through this, it's just difficult sometimes.

He fidgets with the AA coin hanging from his neck, looking at the scars along his right arm.

You're stronger than your habits, Anatoliy.

[not-so-bad]

22/06/2024, 13:08

Anatoliy is at Allan's doorstep — this is never a good sign, especially on a Saturday; Abbey goes to her grandmother's house on Saturdays.

Allan opens the door, slow and hesitant, only to be met with a surprisingly sturdy punch to the face. He's pretty sure his nose is broken. "Shit–"

"I am going to fucking kill you, Allan; what the fuck were you thinking?!" Anatoliy yelling is new and terrifying.

"I was driving; I didn't know she was reading the file–" Allan attempts to defend himself, stepping back.

"You could've taken it from her, Allan, you stupid cunt!"

"I know but it's the first time I've ever seen her so interested in anything and she even solved the case, Ana'; I think this could be good for everyone–"

Anatoliy goes quiet, gritting his teeth and trying to take a deep breath. "I know she's interested but it isn't the crime, it's the psychological aspect, Allan."

"How d'you know that?" Allan asks, grabbing a tissue to hold to his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"She doesn't actively seek out crime files — she gets bored, she reads whatever she can get her hands on, but she enjoys studying people." Anatoliy is sure of this; Abbey always picks out psychology books, specifically clinical psychology, over forensic psychology when they go to the library. "Sit down, I'll get you some ice for your nose, alright?"

Allan slowly sits down on the sofa, tissue gradually becoming soaked with blood. "Right... So you're saying that Abbey wants to be psychiatrist?"

"Yeah," he says as he leaves the room to get some ice for Allan's nose. "She also likes coding."

"...Ana', I think you should have Abbey do an IQ test," Allan suggests.

"I know."

[not-so-bad]

21/06/2024, 16:24

Allan has picked Abbey up from school today, at Anatoliy's hesitant request — it seems Abbey always learns a new curse word when Allan's driving.

She's sitting in her carseat in the back, a box of files on the seat next to her. She's been reading each one, made easier by the recent learning of most of the vocabulary. There's one word she can't figure out means though.

"Uncle Allan?" she says quietly in hopes of getting his attention.

It works and he pulls over to the side of the road to pay attention to her better. "Yeah, kiddo?"

"Wha's UnSub mean?"

The question makes Allan confused. "Uhmm... Unknown Subject, it's the word we use for a criminal we haven't caught yet.. Why d'you ask, little princess?"

Abbey hums quietly. "Teacher."

"Huh?" Abbey's way of speaking has always bothered Allan slightly; she never truly explains herself nowadays.

"'S a teacher," she reiterates, reading over the profile again.

"How d'you know that?"

Abbey doesn't respond for a moment, chewing lightly on the side of her tongue. "'Round kids all the time, kills after 4:30–" It sounds as if she's reading off the profile but the file is closed and on top of the box at an angle he knows Abbey can't read from with her poor eyesight.

"Abbey, are you sure?" he asks, turning around to look at her.

"Mhm. Mr. Albner."

"Abbey, who's Mr. Albner," Allan asks, concerned and slightly panicked.

"Maths teacher. Mr. Cameron Albner. Think he did it." she explains, putting the file exactly where it was in the box.

"I hope you're right, kiddo," Allan mutters as he dials the analyst's number.

Abbey does end up being right. Cameron Albner is arrested the next morning.

[not-so-bad]

Allan has been asked to babysit Abbey again.

"So, Abbey... What d'you wanna do?" He is, as always, hopeful that Abbey will have a conversation with him this time.

She only responds with a quiet hum, neutral. But then she walks into a different room, leaving a confused and disappointed Allan.

But then she comes back with a pile of 100 piece puzzles, stacked in order of box size. "Puzzles."

"You wanna do a puzzle, kiddo?" he asks with a smile — now they're getting somewhere.

Abbey shakes her head. "Puzzles." She emphasises the 's'.

"Right... Which one do you wanna start with?"

She puts a Lion King puzzle on the coffee table.

"Alright," Allan says, opening the box. "Let's get started."

"Mhm. 30 minutes," Abbey says as she begins to work on the puzzle.

"Hm?"

"30 minutes until dinner," she somewhat explains, quiet and focused on the puzzle.

"Okay." Allan sets a timer on his phone.

If he remembers correctly, Abbey doesn't like when things are late or off-schedule.

[not-so-bad]

02/02/2024

"Allan, no."

"But she's really interested in this case and she's already read the files–" Allan, a dark-haired man who looks to be roughly in his early thirties, hurriedly attempts to explain, only to cut himself off. He shouldn't have said that.

"What?" Anatoliy stops dead in his tracks, turning to Allan with a very specific rage in his eyes. "Allan, what did you show her?"

Allan backs up a little bit. "Nothing bad, I swear–"

"Allan–"

"She asked to read some of the file, but there weren't any pictures; it's just an explanation." He really is trying to be comforting, but it's difficult with what Anatoliy knows about his job.

"You work in forensics; most of your job is bad!"

"Anatoliy–"

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What was the case?"

"Murder."

"What. Kind." Anatoliy says through gritted teeth.

"...Promise not to be mad?"

"Allan Jones, I swear to God–"

"Torture. Hasn't been solved yet but we think it was either murder-suicide or a long-term hostage situation."

"And you showed Abbey that?"

"No, she read it on her own," Allan says calmly, completely truthfully.

This makes Anatoliy pause. "All by herself?" he asks, clearly surprised.

"Yeah, asked for a dictionary, too. Thought she was reading one of the psychology books."

"She did."

"Come again?"

"She's been spouting little psychology facts all week since she came home from your place," Anatoliy explains,

"Oh my God... I mean, I knew she was smart but my God."

"I know."

[not-so-bad]

Abbey has had a good day today.

She tried a new food at school, found a new favourite puzzle, and she's moved up from crayons to pencils.

Her teacher says she's improving and Papa is very proud.

"Pomegranates, huh? Didn't think you'd like those." Anatoliy looks at Abbey through the rearview mirror, a smile on his face.

"Taste good," Abbey mumbles in response, looking out of the window at the trees that get blurry as they drive past, despite Anatoliy driving at the exact speed limit.

"And the texture wasn't a problem? I know you don't like things with multiple textures."

"Small helps." She's never been a very wordy child; she only ever speaks in short sentences. She's doing well in terms of vocabulary, oddly enough.

Anatoliy nods in understanding, thinking of other foods he can ease his daughter into trying. "Small foods are easier?"

"Mhm."

"Good to know." He'll buy smaller fruits from now on — he hasn't tested out grapes yet.

[not-so-bad]

"Mr. Lee, please keep your arm still."

Anatoliy has been trying to get an adequate amount of blood from the elderly man's arm for the better part of half an hour. Arthur Lee's veins are thin and are making Anatoliy's job highly difficult — his shift is supposed to be finishing in 15 minutes.

"But the needle hurts," Mr. Lee complains, moving his arm away. "Can't you use somethin' else for the tests?"

"Sorry, Mr. Lee; this is the only way to get an accurate result," Anatoliy complains, calm and factual. "You've been I'll for months; we need to know what's going on to let your doctor know."

"I thought you were my new doctor," Arthur asks questioningly.

"No, I'm the nurse." He says, though he seems distracted — he's finally found a visible vein and the conversation seems to keep Mr. Lee relaxed.

"Oh. So is my doctor still– uhm..."

Anatoliy chimes in. "Dr. Alnes?"

"Yes, her! She's delightful, where is she?"

"She doesn't do bloods, sir," he says, slowly inserting the needle into Arthur's arm, watching his reactions to see if he notices.

He doesn't. "Ain't that a doctor's job though?"

"Nope — healthcare assistants and nurses," he explains. "Most of my job is bloods."

"Oh, okay. You ain't very good at this, are you?"

"Well, I've just taken yours." Anatoliy shows him the syringe filled with blood. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Lee. You'll get your results next week." He empties the jar into a small jar before taking off his gloves and beginning to pack his things away.

"Wait–" Arthur looks at the jar before looking over at Anatoliy as he speed-walks around the room. "Where are you rushin' off to?"

"Picking up my daughter from school," he mutters, picking up his bag. "If you need to contact me, ask Allison at the front desk for my work number. Goodbye, Mr. Lee." It's the last thing he says before jogging out of the room.

He's clearly a little stressed.

[not-so-bad]

"I'll be with you in a sec."

A tired man jogs off to go stop presumably his daughter from running off too far, taking her hand and walking her over to a bench. "Alright, Abbey, just sit here for a sec, okay?"

"Sorry, what was it that you wanted?"

————————————————————————

Name: Anatoliy James Hansen-Onassis

DoB: 28/12/1997

Age: 26

PoB: Narvik, Norway

Height: 6'1" ————————————————————————

Name: Abbey Natalia Hansen

DoB: 17/08/2019

Age: 4

PoB: Newburgh, New York, USA

Height: 3'2"

Faceclaim

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