Another chapter because I have 50 chapters of this damn thing
Trigger warning: death, mentions of suicide
June 12th was the worst day of my life. My dad called me from work, asking that I come to his office immediately. His office was only a few blocks away from school, so I jogged toward it, begging him to tell me what was going on. That’s when I noticed the man with the black cloak. He looked out of place on the streets of Devil’s Lake, but no one else seemed to notice him except for me. His gaze followed me as I walked down the street. I shivered, uneasy. There was something off about the way the citizens walked right past him, not bothering to spare him a second glance.
I was relieved when I finally made it to my father’s office and walked inside, away from the man’s unsettling stare.
Dad wrung his hands as I walked into the room. He seemed more anxious than I'd ever seen him. He gestured for me to sit and rubbed his eyes, as if he was trying to figure out how to start. I wiped my sweaty hands on the sleeves of my coat, growing more and more nervous with every second. Finally, he spoke.
“When was the last time you heard from Madelyn?”
I frowned. That was not what I had expected him to ask. “Two days ago,” I answered hesitantly. “She told me that she was sick, strep throat or something similar. Why?”
Dad ran his hands through his hair. “She disappeared late Thursday night.”
“What? When I talked to her on Wednesday, she seemed fine. Well, besides the coughing." I took a deep breath, feeling my pulse start to quicken. "It can't be true."
“Really? She didn’t say anything strange? Anything suspicious?”
“No. Dad, where are you going with this?” My pulse was racing. We might've been a bit more distant than usual for the past few months, but Madelyn was my best and only friend. I didn't know if I could bear it if something had happened to her.
Suddenly, I remembered something she had said to me during our last conversation. She had tried to sound nonchalant, although I had heard the tinge of fear in her voice when she said it.
“I think someone is following me.”
“Her parents called the police when they noticed she was missing the next morning,” Dad continued. “It didn’t seem like she had made any effort to cover her tracks. The police followed her trail until they found blood near the stream. They didn’t find a body, but the police have come to the conclusion of suicide.”
The room was spinning as my heart dropped out of my body. I didn’t notice I was falling until I felt Dad’s strong arms catch my shoulders. “It can’t be true,” I muttered over and over.
“Hey,” Dad said, waiting until I looked at him before I continued. “I’m sorry I had to break this to you like this. I know you and Madelyn were very close. The police just wanted to know if she’d said anything to you. Why don’t you go home and get some rest.”
I forced myself to nod. I walked numbly out of the room, Madelyn’s last words replaying in my head.
“I think someone is following me.”
Based on these words, I didn’t think Madelyn had killed herself. Someone must’ve murdered her.
As I walked through the lobby, I heard commotion coming from above. Someone screamed, then the crack of a gunshot. I froze. Dad.
I sprinted back the way I came and found my dad’s receptionist laying outside of the door to his office, a bullet wound in her chest. Cautiously, I opened the door. The man who had been watching me on the street, the man with the black cloak, stood behind Dad’s desk, as if he had been waiting for me. He held Dad in a headlock, a gun to his skull.
The man smiled, exposing sharp, white teeth.
“Tell me where it is, girl,” he said, “and I’ll let your dear daddy go.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered.
“I know you do,” he hissed. “I can see your aura. You’re one of them.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” I cried, my heart pounding. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to throw up, break down and cry, or throttle the man who was holding my father hostage. “Please," I said after a moment. "Just let my dad go.”
“Stop toying with me, girl!” he roared, moving to pull the trigger of his gun. I curled my hands into fists, my palms tingling. I wouldn’t let this wicked man harm my father. I lunged forward, determined to stop the pistol from firing.
An explosion rocked the building. I was thrown backward, slamming into something hard. It felt like years before I opened my eyes, dizzy and disoriented. My ears were ringing, but otherwise, I couldn’t hear a thing. Through my blurry vision, all I could see was the flames overwhelming the building.
I knelt, bringing my hands to my ears. The ringing was growing louder and louder, soon so deafening I felt like my skull was vibrating.
Suddenly, I felt a cold hand on my neck, the reek of blood penetrating the smoke.
“You’ve caused all of this, Icena,” a voice whispered in my ear. “All of these deaths aren’t my fault. They’re yours.”
