Psychotic Disaster

Chapter 12

The morning air was crisp as I stepped out of my apartment, it smelled like a symphony of scents delicately interwoven to create a fragrance that was both familiar and elusive. 

I'm wearing a slim-cut navy-blue pantsuit, tailored to just the right length to drape elegantly over my black stiletto heels, my top suit has notched lapels and single buttons accentuating my shoulders, underneath, I wore a soft white blouse, its delicate ruffles peeking out subtly from beneath the suit that matched perfectly in my slender frame. Around my neck, I wear my simple silver pendant on a fine chain to complete my classy look.

 I roamed my eyes around taking a moment to appreciate the morning view of the city, the sun was setting up and the road was still empty. I checked my wristwatch it was still 5:45 AM but I have to arrive early at their place since their city is a two-hour ride from my place. 

"Good morning, dear, have a nice day ahead!" A message from Shawn popped up in my phone. 

I smiled. 

"Morning, you too." I replied and started the car's engine. 

Purchasing this car seemed worth it at all, I never really thought of getting one but- yeah thanks to my psychotic mission. 

It was about an hour of driving, winding down the country road was therapeutic too. Suddenly, my attention was caught by a sign for a small café. A cup of coffee sounded perfect. I signaled and stopped by, I parked my car and stepped out, feeling the gravel crunch under my shoes as I walked toward the entrance. 

The café is nestled among tall, swaying trees, the rustic charm of the place was inviting, with its wooden beams and hanging flower baskets. The scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted me as I pushed open the door, mingling with the subtle aroma of baked goods. 

The barista behind the counter greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good morning! What can I get for you today?"

"Good morning," I replied, smiling back. "I'll have a medium latte and one large croissant please."

"Coming right up," she said, turning to prepare my order. As I waited, I glanced around the café. The wooden tables and mismatched chairs gave it a homey feel. A few early risers were scattered about, sipping their coffees and reading newspapers or chatting softly.

The barista handed me my latte and a paper bag with croissant in it, the latte's foam artfully swirled into a delicate heart shape on top. I thanked her as I handed her my payment.

 I found a seat by the window, where I could enjoy the view of the trees and the sunlight filtering through their leaves. I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the rich, smooth flavor. It was moments like these that I cherished—the calm before the storm of a busy day. 

I took a photo of the view and put it in my Instagram story before getting off the cafe.

The route took me away from the towering skyscrapers and into a quieter, suburban neighborhood. The houses were modest but well-kept, each with its own unique charm. Flowerbeds lined the sidewalks, and children played in front yards.

I pulled up to a small, two-story house, it was a typical middle-class home, with a neatly trimmed lawn and a cozy front porch adorned with a swing and a couple of potted plants. The house exuded warmth and love, yet I knew that within its walls, a family was grappling with profound loss.

As I approached the front door, I took a deep breath, hoping to bring a sense of calm and assurance to the family. I knocked gently, and a moment later, the door was opened by Jax's mother, Mrs. Collins. She was a kind-looking woman in her late forties, her eyes weary but hopeful.