A/N: Enjoy this weirdness at your own risk... And there might be something or phrases that don't make sense, I dunno.
LOCATION: Outskirts of Dallas, Texas in the Torelli Mansion TIME: 6:24 A.M.
Day 17 of Outbreak
Banging sounded from the door of her room. Katsumi cracked a small barely considered 'smirk' from her place in the living room. He'd figure it out soon. The loud and repetitious sound came from Dante Torelli's clenched fist. His shoulders slumped. He'd been pounding on his little sister's door for the past three minutes and yet, there were no response from Katsumi. She wasn't sleeping that was for sure. Dante was the second youngest of the Torelli's at the ripe age of twenty, his sister being six years younger. He was definitely a handsome man, claiming hearts of many women who laid their eyes upon him. He was tall, not basketball player tall, but average baseball player tall. His well-defined muscles brought too much trouble with his even bigger ego. Dante occasionally fought in shady boxing fights in the bad parts of Dallas, much to his sister's annoyance. She was never one for doing inexplicable crimes. Dante's shaggy raven hair was as always, unruly. It was almost as if his hair was permanently held that way as he was always seen with that seamless bedhead look. His olive skin brought out his peculiar vivid sky blue eyes-the same odd eyes that separated the Torelli's from the rest of the world. Dante, like his older brother, had his father's chiseled to perfection squared jaw and high cheekbones. He was the perfect Italian man, but far from actually being perfect.
Dante Torelli, the irascible drama queen of the madcap family...
"Katsumi!" He raised his voice, banging once more. He stop after two or three seconds and stood there wondering. Biting his lip hard enough to give a slight sting, he gave into temptation and opened the door. Katsumi's room had not a smallest hint of feminine qualities to it. Her walls lined with thousands of books and odd possessions. There was no bed but a grey divan in the far corner of her room. The aroma of old books and lavender filled his nose-an odd but pleasing smell that fitted. Up on the high ceilings were white fairy lights hanging down giving the room a light glow and mysterious disposition. The black semi-circle desk in the middle of her room held bits of metal objects and all that science-y stuff his nerdy sister liked to toy with. Papers were haphazardly strewn all around, scraps with bits of equations on them were discarded around the floor of the desk. On the corner of the desk there were cluttered candy wrappers and several cans of sodas his sister most likely indulged in. Dante wouldn't say he was stunned at the mess surrounding his sisters table. He was curious at how his sister―who was so meticulous in everything she did―could make such a mess.
Katsumi Furukawa, the precocious brilliant mind of the Torelli family...
Katsumi never allowed him... or anyone really to go into her room. Dante talked to her about it once. He had said it was because he was too amazingly awesome for the room to handle. But sadly Katsumi retorted something along the lines of because he was an 'unhinged boy with no dignity' by then they both were arguing about each other's flaws. Dante would call it one-sided though, since he was the one doing the arguing while she easily quipped back without raising her voice. While Dante wandered around his sister's room in thought he forgot the reason he came in here for. A look around the room and no Katsumi to be seen. Dante huffed. Of course she wouldn't answer the door because she wasn't there.
Dante strode out of her room and down the stairs to the main living room where he found his sister settled on the couch insouciantly watching whatever was on the TV. Dante studied his sister for a second. She was sitting like she always did, one leg bent and the other tucked under the bent leg. She was of Japanese descent, adopted. At her young age, she was developing an hourglass figure and had salient wide lilac eyes-though her body wasn't slim and delicate looking as most teenaged girls were. It was lithe, resilient and swift. Her paleness came from spending too much time in her room in the darkness. She was always in her room rereading books out of sheer boredom. Inky locks cascaded down her neck-barley touching her shoulders in a newly styled choppy bob cut framing her face. Her long bangs were tucked as much as it could behind her right ear but still, one strand was left in her face. She was still in her sleepwear: a red loose graphic tank top of Spiderman, blue short shorts, and black knee-high socks. She usually had on baggie clothes and one would think she was just a thin girl, but being in shorts, Dante could see her toned legs. She had just recently started wear the 'in' clothes of her generation. As much as Dante abhorred to admit, his sister was growing up too fast, and at such a young age. A pang shot through Dante's heart as he looked closely at his sister's skin. Tiny almost nonexistent scars marked her skin.
