𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ

REDACTED disappearances: Suspects have yet to be identified

Today marks two months since Alice and Andrew Sutton disappeared from their home on Dec. 24th in REDACTED, REDACTED. Despite several search parties, no clues as to the whereabouts of the twins have been found.

WHAT HAPPENED ON DECEMBER 24TH?

Police responded to a report of a break-in that they received around 7:30 am on Monday, Dec. 24th. It was there that they found the body of Clark Sutton in the living room of the house and signs of a forced break-in. However, according to police reports, nothing was stolen.

On that Monday night, police said, Anna Sutton was working a late night shift at the local town's hospital and returned home at around 7 am. Upon discovering her husband's body and being unable to find her children, she contacted the police.

Recent autopsy reports that the victim was wide awake when the attack occurred and tried to defend himself, as defensive wounds show. The murder weapon was an axe that Clark kept locked away in the garage, said weapon was missing from the crime scene and has yet to be found.

Two months later, the detectives are still investigating what exactly occurred from 11 pm, December 23rd to 7 am, December 24th. Authorities said that so far they have heard from "multiple sources of information" claiming that they heard screams coming from inside the house at around 3 am, yet nothing has been conclusive.

Several search parties have been organized in the woods surrounding the village to find Alice and Andrew Sutton, ages seventeen. So far only a shoe has been found and proven to belong to Alice.

Authorities have refused to answer whether or not the twins are suspects in the murder of Clark Sutton and have said that they are investigating the possible stalker claims that the youngest twin, Alice, made weeks before her disappearance. Local neighbor August Valentine has corroborated the claims, saying that he saw "odd men in masks" prowling the house two days before the crime.

Now, authorities have-

"Eh, they probably killed him. Bastards." Mary rose an eyebrow at her father, the short man with an ego bigger than his salary. Of course, he'd think that.

"They literally just said that there have been claims of men stalking the house." She stood up from her chair, "Even if the twins did it, where would they go? Did they have some sort of hideout in the woods?"

"Where's that?" Her mother butted in after returning from her smoke break at the window. "It's near your father's home." She said, looking back at her husband.

Not caring about the conversation anymore, Mary headed further into the small apartment. It was a cold afternoon, too cold for her liking. The bags were still on top of her bed, waiting to be filled. Early tomorrow they'd have to go to her grandfather's house to retrieve some things. She sighed as she rubbed her head, fingers intertwined with the uncared-for locks in her hair. She approached the open window to close it, but her hand stopped midway as she saw something - no, someone standing outside.

Behind some cars was a man, the same man whose masked face has been haunting her dreams and waking life for a few months now. He never moved, nor talked, he just stood there - quietly, mocking her from afar. Mary didn't know if it was a hallucination caused by her depressed brain, every time she went to ask her friends or family if they were seeing the same thing the figure would be gone. After a while, she chose to ignore him. It's not like he was doing anything wrong. She never got any threatening calls or strange messages, she has never actually seen him inside her home.

No, he'd just follow her outside, more and more frequently the past weeks. She'd always see the yellow hoodie in the corner of her eyes, only to turn around for it to be gone - yet sometimes it wouldn't, sometimes she'd turn around and there he was, behind some trees, as if it was his way of telling her 'I'm still here, I haven't gone anywhere.'

Mary tried speaking to him a few times - waving, calling out for, even trying to take a few pictures or film (yet her phone would always bug out and refuse to turn on) but none of those attempts ever lead to anything. If he was a fragment of her mind, he was a boring one at that.

Yet in the back of her mind, the part that she refused to listen because the truth would be too much to bear, Mary knew something was off. That he was not a 'imaginary friend' that her mind created once more. She remembers laying half awake, listening to the footsteps echoing through the hallway, the strange silhouette that was tall enough to not be her parents around the house, the misplacement of things that she blamed on her memory loss, and the man she a month ago.

The small local store was always open despite its lack of customers, but Mary appreciated it remaining open. It was quieter and safer for her anxiety, she could always go in and out unnoticed. Especially today, when her anxiety was at its worse and she had to force her mind to autopilot itself to prevent a breakdown or episode. She walked through the halls looking for a so much desired strawberry fruit drink that her mind was fixating on for days. She prayed to have enough money for it.

When she finally found it she realized that to get it, she had to either wait for the man in front of it to move or ask him politely to. Her mind was too tired and dissociated to even realize his familiar outfit despite having seen it so many times before. At this point in time, the yellow hoodie meant nothing ot her, but later it would.

Mary sighed and approached the man, "excuse me," the man moved to the side and she looked up at the shelf, finding the strawberry juice at the very top. She had to stand on her tiptoes to get it.

"Here, you can have mine." She turned her head to look at the man that was now offering his strawberry bottle to her. She gave him an awkward smile, taking in his features. He was rather handsome in an uncared-for way, his beard needed a shave and his eyes needed a good night of sleep. She didn't want to stare at him for too long and make the situation even weirder. In return of her smile, the man sheepishly smiled back, baring his teeth.

"I'm good, thanks." Mary said, determined to tiptoe her way into getting her own bottle of strawberry juice - which she did, and once she looked back at the man, his smile was gone and he merely stared at her. That was enough to drive her away quickly, not wanting to be caught alone in the back of the store with a creep like him. She couldn't forget the way his eyes bore into hers, devoid of any emotion and feeling, like an empty casket.

Of course, her memory loss stored that moment in the depths of her mind, to never be reminded of again.

The next morning, Mary got in the back of the car with the full intent of sleeping most of the journey. For some reason, she couldn't sleep during the night and kept waking up from hour to hour.

She hated the feeling of being watched in her own bedroom and that she had to pretend to not have seen the figure in the corner of her room to spear her mind from further suffering.