Echoes

72 Hours Left - Afternoon

By the time I pulled myself together it was noon and I found myself sitting on the sofa staring at an empty journal page. I had my elbows on my knees and was learning forward, spinning a pen between my fingers, trying to map out my next move.

"What are you exactly, a grim reaper? Death himself?" I ask the old man; he hadn't left the entire time I was crying. Only standing above me like a sentinel, observing me silently as I broke and then struggled to put together the pieces.

He shrugs. "I do fit the human ideal of both, but I don't have a proper name. I merely pick up the souls who are lost." He answers.

I stared at him and sighed, like that provided an answer. Shaking my head, I let the topic go and move on to another concern plaguing me. "Then, according to this deal we made I have three days, seventy-two hours, to solve what happened to me. Right?" He nods. "What happens if I don't manage to succeed?"

"Then you simply die again and that's it."

"But won't I die anyways, even if I solve it?" I mutter bitterly.

"I don't know, you might be able to save yourself." I snort but he pushes on. "If you have even a one percent chance of living you will fight for it, you humans always do."

I smirk and lean back into the sofa, crossing my arms in the process. "But what if I don't care to fight for such a low chance?"

He suddenly laughs, the sound catching me off guard, and shakes his head. "People like you fight harder for that one percent chance than others."

"People like me?"

His face turns almost mocking. "The ones who have survived by crawling through the mud, the ones who step on others for a chance at something more, the greediest ones of all."

I roll my eyes but stay silent, he was right, even though I didn't want to admit it. The chance at surviving made me feel almost frantic, I needed to get moving, I needed to succeed, I needed to win. I lean forward again and look at the journal, I had gotten it out so I could put my thoughts to paper. When I was under any sort of pressure, I tend to miss things that are right in front of my face. Writing everything down would keep things organized and would hopefully speed up the process. I cringe, at least I hope it would speed it up.

"Based off what I remember of my own crime scene, I was killed by a stab wound to the kidney, yea?" I look up at the man. He nods in agreement. Nodding in return I lean forward to write in the journal. "Therefore, it would be safe to assume my death was connected to the serial killings happening through the city. But I should confirm it before moving forward with that line of investigation."

As I talk millions of questions run through my mind as I struggle to write them down in the journal. By the time I finished I had a full page of information to retrieve, but five questions stood out like red flags:

· Was I the next victim in the serial killings?

· Is there a known MO?

· Any evidence pointing to possible suspects/are there any current suspects?

· How do they choose their victims?

· Why was I chosen?

The last one gave me the most anxiety and I chewed on my lip trying to think about everything I've done in my life. I certainly wasn't a saint, but I've tried my best to keep my head down and live quietly. I would be lying if I said I didn't hurt some people in the process, but I couldn't think of anything that was worth killing me over. Except...- I cut the thought off and shook my head, no it couldn't be connected to that, that was years ago. I viciously run my hands through my hair, ripping a few strands out in the process, trying to clear my head. I needed to focus on the now, not what happened ten years ago, I had to create a plan for my next move.

"Can you give me any information?" I ask, without looking away from the journal. When silenced answered I looked up and found my apartment empty. The grim reaper had left, and I was alone, a thought that almost made me sad. We weren't friends, but having someone that knew the stakes made it seem a little less daunting, like someone was on my side rooting for me. Being alone made the silence heavy, weighing down on me as my mind began to race. My thoughts suddenly an open dam now that I had no one to distract myself with. As if summoned on que the incomplete memories of what happened in the alley come rushing back and my heart starts racing. The broken flashes playing like some thriller movie behind my eyes, teasing me with a jump scare that would never come. I slam my hands onto the table and stand up, rage burning in my chest towards the faceless monster who did this to me. I start gathering my things to leave and I grit my teeth. I will not lose to a coward who hunts in the darkness, I will become the hunter and he will be my prey. The cheesiness of the thought makes me giggle as I shut and lock my apartment door behind me. But it wasn't wrong, I have three days to do this and if only by sheer spite I will make sure I come out on top. Regardless of what I must do, I will get my information and I will survive this. I smiled broadly as I walk down the stairs to the street level, I knew exactly where to go first.

Next release - Sept 1st