Exhausted, I turned the TV off and sluggishly walked upstairs to my bedroom. Fully armoured with pots and pans and still holding my bat, I flopped onto the softness of my bed with the lights on. A bad idea. The metallic edges dug into my flesh. I sprang up on my feet and check myself for the reassurance that there wasn't any cut down to my bone. There wasn't. Phew! I'll never be doing that again! I carefully I equipped the double-edged armour and tidily stored it away inside the cupboard. I closed my eyes and listened to the silence. I felt safe. Then there were sounds of the taps running and a faint hum of a song. Someone was downstairs. My heart started beating. I swallowed and listened. But that can't be! I was there just a minute ago! Carefully I stepped out of bed and tiptoed across the corridor. I treaded cautiously, making as little noise as possible. The kitchen was full of smoke and in the middle of the room a tall, slender figure stood with a frying pan.
"Hello? Who is it?" I asked while slightly covering my nose and mouth with my hands to stop myself from breathing in the smoke.
"Oh, is that you Chloe?" an unmistakably familiar voice spoke. It was Ms Cackle, our landlord. After the smoke cleared, I saw her blonde hair was tied up in a bun and her skin looked as pale as it usually did. Her black dress clung to her like leeches and her fang-like purple nails made her look like she was going to a funeral.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips, " I'm so glad it's you, Mrs Cackle!"
We each drank a cup of strong coffee and chatted for a while. I found out that she came to check up on me because of all the recent murders happening around the area. And I was glad that she did. The victims were all young females who were alone at home. They were tortured and brutally killed. The only way the police knew all the murders were committed by the same murderer was by the crescent mark he burned on the victims' body. That was all everyone was talking about nowadays. Some sick people even tattooed the mark on themselves 'cause it's cool. Bunch of insensitive morons.
Mrs Cackle got up from her seat and looked at me with her emerald coloured eyes. "I'll prepare some soup for you so go up and rest. You'll need it," she said calmly. Confused, I obediently went upstairs and crouched down near the corner of my bed. What did she mean by "I'll need it"? Maybe she thought I had baseball practice today? Convinced that that was the reason, I closed my eyes and cleared my mind of any unnecessary thoughts and just sat there quietly. Something was nagging me; something that I should have known, but couldn't put my finger on it.
