ALORA JONES ✔️

CHAPTER 1

{QUINCY}

Angry.

Confused.

Nervous.

Conflicted.

Numb.

That's what I kept feeling as I watched Theresa, my therapist, adjust a digital camera on a tripod right in front of a regal wooden chair which I believe was polished since it looked as new as a shiny penny.

My head started to fill with irregular and aimless thoughts when I heard Theresa call my name and acquire me to escape the trance that absorbed me. She had called me to sit on the chair and I did as she said and let my feet guide me to the chair and once I sat down I stared at the rounded lens that looked as if someone was examining me with a magnifying glass.

I took a deep breath once she started recording and emptied my head and focused on two things only; May 17th, 2019, and October 31st, 2020

"My name is Quincy McCoy, I am 17 years old, and I'm here to tell everyone the real events of May 17th, 2019, and October 31st, 2020," I gulped once all the memories came rushing in and it felt as if a car just hit my brain, "it all started when my brother Mason announced that he was going to a frat party on the night of Halloween," and just as I thought, my mind immediately went back to that day as if it was yesterday.

{ALORA 1998-2019}

~ The Night of Halloween ~

October 31st, the night of Halloween.

While everyone was enjoying the bitter and crisp air of the spine-chilling and daunting October night, the McCoys decided to stay in for dinner instead of going out and engaging in the tradition of trick or treating.

I could make out how poor mother McCoy is scrambling to get the dinner table ready in time from the sight of her rushing around and almost breaking one of her favorite plates.

We wouldn't want that now, would we?

A few minutes go by and I catch a glimpse of Mr. McCoy settled down on a brown leather couch that was positioned in front of a fireplace that looked like a brick oven, I studied him for a little and noticed his shoes were tossed before the carpet since they have a strict no-shoes on the carpet policy as well as a no-phones on the dinner table which could be the reason why Mrs. McCoy is taking a long time to persuade her kids to sit down at the dinner table.

It makes me cringe every time they act all merry and modest while hiding the mysteries and troubles that have been caused by their source, but why should they worry, they are capable enough to get themselves out of trouble so hiding family secrets is like taking candy from a baby to them.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs distracts me from my corrupted conceptions and when I focus on the events before me, my ghostly eyes zoom in and capture my target but I notice someone new.

Is that a brother I see?, A smirk appears on my face as I think of an advantageous piece of information to add to my atrocious plan. My attention goes back to my poor victim; Mason McCoy.

How can he possibly act as if nothing happened?