Can You Keep A Secret?

2. Iris: 30th Of August

"Iris, my dear, can you please come down to help me?" My mother's voice cuts through the blaring music in my headphones, jolting me out of my creative trance. With a sigh, I reluctantly pause my drawing and make my way downstairs. What could she possibly need now?

As I descend the stairs, I can't help but think about how unfair it is that out of five people in this house, my mother always seems to call on me when I'm in the middle of something important. But I push those thoughts aside as I reach the kitchen, only to be met with a bewildering sight... My mother baking?

The woman who can barely toast a slice of bread without burning it, is standing in front of the oven with a tray of freshly baked cookies. I stop in my tracks, my eyebrow raised in disbelief. Since when does she bake? I question myself. We usually have our several house maids do these kinds of things. Our favorite, or rather mine, was Alexia, who kinda helps us with everything we need: cooking, groceries, cleaning, babysitting. She was a multi-tasker and a woman that could basically work off miracles.

"What are you doing?" I ask suspiciously. "And what are those?" I point to the tray, thinking that surely Alexia must have made them. There was no chance in hell that the odor filling my sense with chocolate was coming from the cookies chilling on the counter. Noticing my expression, she smiles sheepishly. "Well, we actually have new neighbors moving in, and I wanted to welcome them with some homemade treats," she explains, gesturing towards the plate of cookies. I can't help but be surprised. My mom has never shown an interest in our neighbors before, let alone bake for them.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I ask, "Why do you suddenly care about our new neighbors? You didn't even do this for Sylvie when she moved in." My mother simply shrugs, taking a sip of her vegetable juice. But I can tell there's more to it than that.

She turns to me with determination in her eyes. "I was thinking about going to check them out. And you, my daughter, are coming along." She sings-songs as the hair on my neck stands as if I had been electrocuted.
"What? But I have summer homework to finish. I can't," I remark, getting agitated. Whenever it is that I go on a little 'visit' with my mom, things in one way or another end up badly. "What do we have to do with them anyway? Good for them that they moved in." Her heels clink against the floor as he walks, oozing power and confidence. She takes off her baking gloves and clothes, revealing underneath a simple black dress that reached her knees and hugged her figure perfectly. Her wrist was never bare: she opted for a gold bracelet and for her fingers golden rings that matched her perfect french manicured nails.

"I'm doing this because they moved into Quinn's house," She hisses. My attention is immediately captured and focused on her. Shocked, dumbfounded and... confused. "What the hell?" I question with a face painted in astonishment.
Sylvie hadn't told me that she was planning on selling the house after her parents were brutally murdered in it. The original plan was for her to remain there until the end of school, and then for her to move in with us and then sell her old house across the street. I would have never thought that she'd broken our agreement. But something MUST have happened. Sylvie was my most loyal friend, she wouldn't do something like this unless there was a reason.

"I just want to know if we are safe here, especially after what happened to her parents, my best friends." She didn't need to remind me. It was all over the news, the newspaper, everyone knew the tragic story of what happened in Quinn's villa. They called it the Murderer of the rich, nicknamed the 'Night Crawler'
And the worst part out of it all, that made everyone bolt with fear to buy guns, weapons, take self defense class, by CCTV cameras and high security installment, was the fact that he or she was on the loose.

The police had always thought that the potential killer was a he, but I know well not to underestimate the cases and follow the mass of people that agree. They claimed that only a man could be strong enough to execute someone in that brutal manner and cause such havoc and chaos. But... I knew well enough how women were not to be played with. I hadn't excluded the potential.