Scream

Reyna Copulas

I sob on Mom's coffin, apologizing over and over for my dad's behaviour and the way I treated her before she died. I confess to telling Makai about our relation. I tell her that I might even be in love. I sit in the silence of the church, hunched over the shiny coffin that contains whatever bits of my mother they could find. We almost had hercremated, but my dad would've probably thrown her ashes in the garbage. I can't get overhow he can just disrespect her so easily. Yes, she was cheating on him. I admit that's disgusting. But if he really hated her that much, why not file for a divorce? He must haveloved her to some extent, I'd have assumed. But after today...it's like he despised her veryexistence.

 I run my hand along the casket, fingertips skimming the flowers on the edges. It's alleven until I feel something thick and sharp under the floral. I pinch it and pull it out. My heart drops to my stomach as I see what it is. A thank you note. 

 Shaking, I look around the church for a watcher. There are stained windows and twodoors – that's it. No one can be watching me. Opening the note, I read what it says. 

Looking great, Reyna.

I stand stock-still, feeling the unsettling chill of a watcher. Trepid, I continue to theback of the stage, where there are dressing rooms, restrooms, and instrument sets. Thelights are yellowed as if they're aged paper and don't give off much light. I tip-toe around past the restroom. If there's someone in here, I'm going to find them and end them. 

 They're just a person. Sure, they don't function like one, but they can die like one. All that makes them different is that they wear a mask and oversized cloak. In my opinion,they just have bad taste in clothing and a screwed up head. 

 Silently, I creep through the halls, entering the controls for curtains and lights andsounds. They're operated by ropes, levers, switches, and buttons. It's entirely intricate andI wonder how anyone knows how it all works. 

 I take a step and kick a cymbal that was lazily thrown on the ground, the crash echoing backstage. "Crap," I hiss, covering my mouth and looking behind me. The area is vacant, but that doesn't mean that the killer isn't hiding and watching my everymove. The back gets dark, and I round a curved corner that transfers me to the other sideof the backstage. 

 More aware of my surroundings after my clumsy cymbal mistake, I operate around some string instruments and step over a spotlight. The entrance to the stage is hidden by a curtain. I run my hand along with rough material until my fingers clutch around the end of the sheet.

 I pull it back and look over the church before stepping out. Although there isn't much to look over.

Not when the lights suddenly go out..........