Lost

Crime Scene

Blair's POV
As I walk down the street, I recognize the true beauty of nature. The birds chirping, the sun shining, Conner following me, wait. I turn around and sure enough, Connor's behind me, whistling, hands in his jean pockets. He sees me looking and turns away, head down. I snicker and turn back. Soon enough, I reach home. My two story home. Where Me, my Mom, a blonde haired, blue eyed, skinny woman, my Dad, a brown eyed, brown haired big kind of guy, and my younger sister and brother, twins, blonde, grey eyed, and the most adorable three year olds in the world. As I walk up to the brown door, I realize it's open a bit. I push the door open and am recieved with a metallic smell. I walk into the kitchen and grab a knife, fear creeping into my heart. "Mom? Dad?" I call, walking slowly into the living room. "Anisha? Dan?" I freeze in my tracks. My Mom lays in a heap, in front of our grey couch. "Mom?" I whisper, bending over here. I turn her over and gag. Her eyes are glass, and her shirt is ripped open. In that space in the middle, her chest is open, her heart ripped out. I stumble backwards, my feet trailing her blood. I trip and fall backwards, my face right next to my dads. The same thing happened. I stand up, and get my phone out. I dial 911.
"Hello? 911 what's your emergency?"
"Please," I choke out. "My parents were murdered. Their hearts were ripped out."
"Oh my! What's your name sweetie?"
"Blaire Lockwood."
"Oh my is your father George Lockwood?"
"Yes."
"Ok a police car and ambulance are on their way. Do you have any siblings? Are they dead too?"
I'm set aback by her question. I drop the phone in a daze, and I run up the stairs into the half finished nursery. The crib in the far corner, and the toy bucket in another. As I apprach the crib, I realize something is wrong. There are no snores, no breathes. I peer into it and all the blankets are twisted, the crib empty except for a note. I bend over, and faintly hear sirens in the distance. I bend over further, to not disturb any crutal evidence. On the note it reads:
Blair,
You may not know me. Or maybe you do. Well, you'll never know. Well anyways, I have your brother and sister. I'm going to kill them. And tear out their hearts. Too bad you and your cops friends won't find me! Anyways, as I write this your crying over your dead parents. Anyways, I've torn out their hearts. And put them in jars. Well, see you tomorrow!
Love,
Your future killer
I stumble back, just as three police officers barge in, guns raised.
"Put your hands where I can see them!" One of them says, pointing their gun at me.
"Wait," I whisper, seeing stars. I reach into my pocket and show them my student ID. The last thing I hear is "Holy shit," before I collaspe.