Death is your only guarantee in life. It's inevitable. However, death should only be sentenced after a full and well-lived life. No parent should have to say goodbye to their child - especially before they'd even had a chance to live. The town had dealt with more loss in a few months than most would in a lifetime. Whoever is behind these mass murders has declared war. The town is out for retribution.
The townspeople gather inside the home of the dead around the open grave. The casket lowers into its eternal home. The entire atmosphere is plagued with anguish as gut-wrenching sobs pierce the typical silence.
Friends and family gather as they watch another cherished member of the community lowered into their final resting place. Amelia watches from afar as Tiffany's mother collapses to the ground as the perpetual tears not only emotionally, but physically, exhaust her.
She leans against the mature willow tree. It's not that she didn't care Tiffany had suffered an ill fate, she just thought it to be selfish to show up to honor someone she never knew. The closest to pleasantries they'd shared was when Tiffany once, impolitely, asked her to move out of a seat she'd wanted.
It doesn't mean she deserved to die this way. Amelia thinks.
Her eyes glance over the large expanse of land littered with hundreds of dearly departed. A distant figure hidden behind another willow tree captures her attention. She straightens her posture and squints her eyes.
A cloaked figure.
Her breath hitches in her throat at the sight. Her legs take over her mind and she hastily marches towards the mystery person. By the time she'd gotten to the tree the figure had already taken off - and she realized how far away she'd been lured from witnesses.
"Amelia." She jumps at the voice and her heart feels as if it's about to yank itself from her chest.
"Officer Nichols." She sighs at the friendly sight of the youthful officer. "You scared me."
"Sorry." He raises his hands in the air.
She takes a moment to regain her composure before glancing over his shoulder. She could barely see the funeral attendees from the distance.
"You shouldn't be out here all alone." He speaks. "There's a killer out there, Amelia." He states as if she hadn't already witnessed the bloodshed.
"I know." She clutches her chest. "I'm sorry."
She sullenly follows him back to the sorrowful crowd. Her head lowered like a scolded child's. However, she couldn't risk one more glance over her shoulder. The cloaked figure is nowhere in sight.
Abigail scopes the pictures on the wall of the Evans' living room. From baby pictures - until recent pictures of Homecoming. She winces at the image of her smiling best friend holding a bouquet with the crown regally placed on her head. How morbid that unbeknownst to everyone at that moment, it would be their last happy memory of her.
The cup of tea Mrs. Evans freshly brewed for her has gone cold. She'd been too distracted by the images
"Sorry that it took so long." She apologizes as she'd left twenty minutes ago to answer a phone call.
It was important.
"It's no problem." She awkwardly places her hands behind her back.
She'd never been here without Tiffany.
"I was wondering if I could go up to Tiffany's room. There are a few things I'd like to keep."
"Of course." Mrs. Evans attempts to hold back a frown as her eyes become glossy. "Whatever you want."
With a tense smile, Abigail brushes past her and hurries upstairs.
She wastes no time locking the door behind her and rushing for the closet. She opens the hidden crevice and it feels as if the wind has gotten knocked out of her as she finds it void.
Where are the phone and laptop? She wonders in panic.
She anxiously runs her hands through her hair as she gazes around the closet in hopes she had gotten the location wrong. There is no sign of it.
How could someone have gotten it? Did Tiffany's mom happen to find it?
The panic rises in her throat like bile as she attempts to gather her thoughts. How is this possible?
She searches every inch of the room in hopes of Tiffany having moved it.
Her phone buzzes in her coat pocket and she hastily reads the text.
Finders Keepers. It's mine now xX
Her eyes feel as if they had grown double the size and are on the verge of falling out. Someone else has the damaging evidence and it's only a matter of time until she finds out what they are going to do with it.
A part of her is desperately seeking the evidence to protect her best friend, even in death, but the other is for more selfish reasons.
Tiffany isn't the only one that has something to hide.
The town has been in a severe state of paranoia. All these murders and no one is close enough to find out the truth.
Amelia has been under her father's constant scrutinizing gaze ever since Homecoming. She's been spending more time at the police station than in her own home as of late. She's currently sitting in her father's office attempting to complete her Geometry homework - but the huge case files on his desk are an immense distraction, especially the one right on top.
Ethan Crawford.
She'd been having a moral battle with herself on whether she should look into it or not, but her natural curiosity got the best of her. She glances out her dad's window to make sure no one is approaching before hastily skimming through Ethan's records.
He is currently in a foster home. She thinks as she reads through his documents. He's been transferred from foster home to foster home since he was eleven. She continues to read through his confidential information despite the agonizing guilt seeping through her. Her attention is grabbed by something. He has a criminal record. For assault.
Amelia reads through the words explaining how he had assaulted his stepfather two years ago. She wanted to read more but she could see her father approaching his office through the window and she hurriedly placed the file back in its rightful place.
She remains stoic as her dad enters with a bag of takeout.
"Are you okay?" He questions as her face is slightly pale.
"I'm just a bit tired." She fibs.
Their impromptu dinner is exceptionally awkward as Amelia's thoughts keep drifting back to Ethan. He'd always had a habit of seeking trouble, but she never the extent of it until now. She'd always found his mysterious persona attractive - and uncovering his secrets is killing it. She'd known Ethan is dangerous, but her mind keeps swaying to the idea of how dangerous. As much as she tried to prevent the paranoid thoughts, they kept pushing through the surface. What if he's dangerous enough to be capable of murder?
Lillian felt as if she could finally breathe once she was in the confines of her bedroom. The gruesome day is finally behind her and the weekend has finally arrived. She rubs her tense muscles - a consequence of the grueling week of stress and overworking, however, it's been increasingly burdensome to focus on school when a serial killer is running rampant. She's tried her best to not let the situation affect her, but she can't help allowing the paranoia to infect her. The unconscious glances over her shoulder have become a vexing habit. She can't help but feel as if she were the next target - the most fragile and vulnerable.
She wraps her cotton sheets around her quivering form and happily welcomes the warmth. She no longer feels safe outside - trouble follows when one ventures too far from home. Her memory foam pillow sucks her in as her heavy head becomes too much for her frail shoulders to support. She closes her eyes with a deep sigh. It feels as if she hasn't slept in weeks. The exhaustion begins to smother her.
Ding!
Her eyes spring open at the chime and she blindly reaches around the covers for her phone. Her fingers make contact with the screen and she drags it toward her. It hovers above her face as she opens the text from an unknown sender.
Her brows furrow as a link to a Livestream is attached along with the words: I see you, Lillian.
She knows better than to click on an anonymous link, but the alarming words command her finger to click on it. It's a video of a girl laying in bed scrolling through her phone. However, her interest is piqued as the girl seems to mimic her movements. She sits straight and investigates the video further. It's me. She thinks as she recognizes the indigo cotton sheets and her tattered baby pink sweater. She drops her phone and glances around her bedroom with her hands firmly clenched beside her. The back of her eyes began to prickle with tears. Someone is watching her. Someone has been watching her. The thought sends shivers down her spine. She places her hands over her mouth as her eyes restlessly search for a sign of foul play. Her eyes land on her desk, more precisely, her open laptop. She apprehensively approaches the device, as if it were a snake ready to strike. She bends down and glances into the webcam and the goosebumps down her arm multiply. It's as if she could sense eyes staring back at her from the other side. She slams the laptop shut at the realization and rubs her hands up and down her folded arms.
Her phone chimes again and she bites the corner of her bottom lip as she reaches for it. Her breath hitches in her throat as her eyes skim through the text.
Our little game is far from over.
Amelia's locker creaks as she yanks it open - the locker is so ancient that the only way to open it is through force. She pushes books aside until she finds her tattered Julius Caesar book. She'd read through it meticulously and repeatedly, hence the broken spine and fading pages.
"Hey," Ethan speaks as he approaches her.
He causally leans his shoulder on the locker next to hers.
"Hey." She states as she attempts to hide her rosy cheeks. "Did you study for Econ?" She knew it was a lame attempt at making conversation, but it was better than her usual stuttering when talking to Ethan.
"I did not." How predictable.
The sound of hundreds of notification chimes ringing synonymously halts all conversation. A multitude of gasps follows after along with hushed whispering. Amelia curiously reaches for her phone to find a notification from Rosemary Lang's blog.
I know you must all be confused. She read. But the what's and how's are not important right now. What is important is that I have something I would like to share with you all. It seems to me that our resident sweetheart, May Hart, was not who she said she was.
Amelia anxiously reads on.
I have diary entries that prove she'd been cheating on our star quarterback since sophomore year, and with a mysterious older guy. Sorry, Seth - it needed to be said. Kisses xx
Amelia blinks rapidly as if this were some messed up dream and she would wake up any second. She glances up to see Ethan's reaction which mimics hers. May had been cheating on Seth. A pang of sympathy pokes her in the heart. From the short time she'd spent with Seth recently, she could tell that he'd truly been in love with her.
It doesn't help he had to find out at the same time as the rest of the student body. She thinks. He must be so humiliated and heartbroken.
However, despite the sorrow and humiliation, she couldn't help but let her curiosity get the best of her. Who is this mystery guy?
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