A/N: I'm obliged to finish this, don't know why. Thanks for reading!
It was a month after the alleged accident, and the house was rather shaken about it. Her father, named Logan Jones and who was a senator, was concerned how this would affect the upcoming election. He didn't want this to cause him to not be reelected. His wife was busy comforting their daughter, even if she showed no suffering.
Logan had a close business friend, one named Jean. He was a Frenchman who had a thing for smoking a lot. Nire quite hated all his smoking. It gave her a headache.
Jean happened to have stopped by around a month after Melissa's unfortunate accident to inform Logan that he was having a hard time keeping the press off of his case, but was successful nonetheless.
As Logan left Jean alone in the living room to go sort something or other out, Nire poked her head into the doorway, though without any of the curiosity that would befit a child of her age.
"Ah, Nire! Let me have a look at you!" She blinked and walked into the room, doing her best not to show any reaction on her face as her world turned red. "My, you've grown since I last saw you!" In reality, she hadn't.
Without a word, she walked over to the shelves behind him, pretending to look for something on them. In truth, her eyes were focused on Jean's lighter, sitting on the table next to him. The instant he looked away, her hand darted forward and snatched it silently, then slipped it into her glove before going back to what she was doing.
"Huh? Where'd my lighter go? Nire, did you see it?" She only blinked at him with her marble-like eyes, acting as though she was clueless on what he was talking about. "Agh, guess I'll have to use the stove…"
The gas stove. The plan her true father had arranged for her became clear in an instant. Silently, she walked away into one of the connecting hallways, one that she knew circled back around into the kitchen. Hiding behind the doorway, she watched carefully as Jean fiddled with the stove, to make the flame light his cigarette. Her eyes alighted over the stove, searching for what would work best to her advantage, and then saw the black tube that was the gas line. After Jean went back to the living room, she glanced around for any witnesses. Seeing none, she slipped off her mary janes, knowing that they would clack on the tile, before slipping into the kitchen. One unscrewed gas line later, she was back in the living room with Jean, casually throwing a beach ball into the air and catching it.
It was only a matter of time before Jean's cigarette ran out, and he had to go to the stove once more to light his new one. He didn't notice any difference, until the flames leaped up far too high, scorching his face. He screamed bloody murder as he stumbled about the room, frantically trying to beat the fire out, but all in vain. As he finally collapsed, the last thing he saw was Nire standing in the doorway, staring at him with the same dead, uncaring eyes as before.
"I don't know what to tell you, Mr. Jones. This is a very unfortunate accident. This is one of the worst cases of professional neglect I've ever seen; the gas line was unscrewed. We'll need to have a word with your handyman about it."
Detective Richard Adams frowned deeply at the couple in front of him. Mr. Jones had a frown that mirrored his, with one arm wrapped around the shoulders of his crying wife. Their 6-year-old daughter sat on the chair behind them, idly flicking a lighter on and off. He felt for the poor thing, he really did; she'd been the first to see the body, and she might have even seen him die. Someone that young should never have to go through that. As though she could feel his gaze, the girl looked up and stared back, and it was then he noticed just how…unnatural this girl looked. Her face had no expression at all, and neither did her eyes; in fact, they were the kind of eyes that would look more appropriate on a fish. Blank, uncaring, unforgiving; it just wasn't right. He forced himself to look away.
"Are you sure your daughter will be alright, after seeing that? She seems very distant…" Mrs. Jones' sobs stopped in an instant, and she looked up at him with a look like he'd just personally insulted her.
"Nire is just fine as she is. She can't help that she can't talk! She can't help that her face is paralyzed!" He'd had no idea that it was not a choice for the girl, so he quickly apologized. However, he didn't dare mention that no amount of paralysis can make eyes look like that.
Geez, sorry for how long this took. I'm just lazy. Special thanks to RoseTurquoise for motivating me to continue!