The Split Child

Part III

When she awoke to a nurse pounding on her door, she remembered none of last night’s events. The white-clad nurse told her of her parents murder, how they were found dead together with their throats slit ear to ear, and covered in each other's blood. The police was currently investigating, but they haven’t found any clues yet. There were no witnesses, because as the pathologists had said, the murder happened at around 1 AM. They autopsy was still being done.

That was the time she knew that she needed to get out of here. She knew that it was someone close, but she didn’t know who. It would have to be someone close to her parents, because they had never been close to anyone but a few people. But what if it was a serial killer? She thought. They always kill people on random. She had to get out of here, and find this person. A list of suspects ran through her head. There were the neighbors, any of the shopkeepers, the nurses-- The nurses! they were the only ones with 24 hour access to the building, except for the director, but he was hardly ever here. Besides, they police had evidence of footprints in the mud by the small river outside the building, and apparently one of the basement windows was left cracked open! That had to be it!

She was left alone with a hot tray of porridge, milk, and a bun. Eating the hot breakfast made her feel better, although she was still in despair. She didn’t mourn for too long, she had never really known her parents. The last time she had really gotten to see them was when she was six. They visited for an hour or two every year on her birthday, but that was pretty much it. She was still very offset about their sudden assassination. She instantly knew that she must do something to find the criminal. Her mother always locked the door, especially at night. She was very cautious about her safety, at least since she had almost killed that kid in the yard when she was eight. She had all of her doors and windows locked, and a hidden camera- Wait! The camera! The police must not have found it, or else the criminal would have been known. She knew that she must get the footage and figure out the Killers identity. With all of the distractions of the police investigating the case, it would be hard to slip away, but at least the door would be unlocked. As she made up her mind about leaving, she decided to go right after lunch was brought up to the room. No point investigating a murder on an empty stomach.

As soon as she scarfed down the meager lunch, she slid out of a small crack in the door. Making her way down the back staircase, she got very dizzy after climbing in circles, down, down, down until she reached the basement. As usual, there wasn’t anyone there. She found another window, and grabbed the ledge to hoist herself up. She then jogged towards the creek, constantly looking behind over her shoulder for fear of pursuit. While she was looking behind her, her foot landed in the mud on the banks of the brook. While pulling her foot out, her shoe didn't come with it. It was slowly sinking in the mud, and she was left with one soaking foot.

She continued through the forest. Through the trees she could hear echoes of footsteps, probably looking for her. She picked up her pace and, now sprinting, wove her way in between the dense clumps of trees separating the asylum from the small town. The trees were almost to woven together to be able to find your way through them. Many times, she had to backtrack and find a different way through. She finally found her way to the tiny town and searched for the building. The investigators seem to have left, and probably gathered a lot of evidence. There was still police tape around the building, but she went around to the back and ducked under it. The stairs were unguarded, except for some more tape.

When she reached the apartment, she grabbed the key from underneath the mat, went under even more strips of tape, but the door was already unlocked. As she slipped inside, she wondered where the camera might be, it was somewhere in the kitchen, she remembered.

She searched all around the tiny kitchen, making sure to put everything back in its place. After an hour of scouring everywhere she thought it might be, she found it in the fruit dish, at a perfect angle to be able to see the door, and most of the living room. She opened the back plate of the camera, and retrieved the memory card. She knew that her father’s work laptop would be in his office, her past bedroom.

She found the place to put the minuscule card, and placed it in the slot. A list of options popped up. She wasn’t very good with computers, but view files looked promising. She messed around for a while, not knowing what to do, but eventually found her way to the clips from last night at one in the morning.

As she watched the footage, she suddenly realized why her parents had always been cautious around her. Scared for their safety. Why she was in the asylum. Why she couldn’t remember parts of her life. Why people told her that she had almost killed that young boy years ago. She realized it all as she watched the film, the foggy veil that had covered her entire life lifted.

For the killer on the screen, was her.