A Killer's Countdown

1

Mercedes Brown came home from work. She knew she was going to be home alone the entire evening: her husband David had some kind of gathering and wasn't going to be home until late that night. When Mercedes opened the door, she noticed a white envelope on the doormat. It didn't have an address, stamp or name, so it must have been delivered to her personally. When she opened it, there was a folded piece of paper in it. She unfolded it and the only thing on it was a big 1. She thought it had to be some kind of joke from the neighborhood kids and didn't pay any more attention to it. She had a calm night: she made some dinner, watched TV, read for a bit and went to bed around 11 P.M. She was woken up around midnight by some random noises. 'David?' she called 'Are you there?' No response. She heard footsteps on the stairs and at that point she knew it wasn't David: The footsteps sounded different, a bit heavier and slower. She got up and peeked around her door. There she saw a black figure with a hood pulled over their head, so she couldn't see the face. What she could see was the knife, shimmering in their hand. She went back into the bedroom, the only direction she could go. She was driven into a corner and the last thing she saw was the knife being pointed at her chest. Around 2 A.M., David came home. He tried to do everything as quietly as possible, to not wake up Mercedes. When he walked into the bedroom, he turned on the lights. He knew that wouldn't wake her up. Then he saw her, lying in a pool of blood, the knife sticking from her chest. He managed to stay calm and call the police. They directly found two clues: the piece of paper with a 1 on it and a black pen next to Mercedes' body.

Laura

My alarm goes off and I slowly get up to turn it off. Another not nice school day. You wouldn't expect to hear that from a nerd, and I didn't use to be like this. But ever since I've had Mr. Trix for math, all days I have math are ruined. For some reason he just really doesn't like me, and he treats me like I'm some kind of stupid creature. I go downstairs for breakfast, already mentally preparing for math. I sit down at the table and start making breakfast. Then my mom says: 'Did you hear those sirens last night?' I nod, I woke up from some sirens around 2:30 or something. 'Yeah,' my dad answers 'I looked up if I could find what was up and there's been a murder a few blocks away, at Chatsworth Avenue!' 'That's very close!' I respond and I put down the book I was reading: I want to hear this. 'There isn't a lot out there yet,' my dad continues 'But they did say in this morning's newspaper that...' 'Stop!' my mom interrupts 'If you want to tell Laura all those gruesome details, at least wait until me and Stephanie & Melanie are gone.' 'Well, go away then.' I say, 'I want to hear this.' Unfortunately, my mom and twin little sisters don't go. 'I'll tell you tonight.' my dad says. Then we all continue eating and I pick up my book again. After breakfast I go to school. At the gate, my best friend Stacey is already waiting for me. She's always at school before me. Even if I go to school extra early to work on a project or something, she's already there. 'Have you heard about that murder already?' I directly ask. It's been on my mind ever since breakfast. 'I have, but I think you haven't really, because of your softie family.' I laugh and agree. 'Well,' Stacey says 'I guess you can call that true crime podcast you always listen to, because Mount-Green is going to live in such a story.' She tells me about all the details. About the mysterious paper found, the pen left behind, how that woman was murdered, everything. By the time she's done, it's time to go to math class. When we get to the class, we're almost late and everyone is inside already. Mr. Trix kindly greets Stacey, but he ignores me. I don't really care anymore; I've gotten used to it by now. He's nice to everyone but me. He came here at the start of the school year and after only a few weeks he became this legendary person. Everyone was jealous of me for having Mr. Trix, but I'm kind of jealous of them. When I ask a question, Mr. Trix calls me stupid and doesn't answer it, but when anyone else asks the exact same question, he's willing to explain it a million times until they understand. The math lessons have just turned into reading time for me. I can better study this at home. Today Mr. Trix seems to have decided to ignore me the whole lesson, so time flies by. I'm abruptly pulled out of my reading bubble by the bell ringing. I've got English now, so that's nice. It's not only the subject I like, but also the teacher. Mrs. Jones, we can sometimes call her Betty, is kind of a like a grandma for me. All of my grandparents died when I was still young, so I don't really remember them. When I had my first English class with Betty, it was almost as if she read my mind, because she was so kind to me. By the time I'm 5 minutes into English, all my frustrations about math are gone. The rest of my day is normal: I go to my classes, go home, do homework, normal things. At dinner I tell my dad he doesn't have to tell me about the murder anymore, because Stacey already told me. But by the time I go to bed, it's already far from my mind.