Acess Code for Murder

No Person(ality)

I joined the small group of people that included Simone Morrison, Andrew Gulmann, Victoria Finch and Gundham Wert.

Funny how, in the middle of a party, I still felt pretty lonely. I missed Thomas, I missed Stan, god damn it I missed Robert... All those people that I had seen 6 months ago.

We didn't speak ever since. I only visited Robert once, and 5 minutes was more than enough with him. I even missed Hannah, god forbid. To them, I wasn't just a number or a statistic. To these people, I wasn't even considered a number, but a way to pass time: I was there to answer some questions that were inquired by the other guests, but nobody would share. I could sense everyone in that little portion of the street only wanted information, not friends. The worst part was that I could sense they were like me: a mind that little by little gets saturated from dealing with depressed and twisted minds every day, and has no choice but to become twisted as well. It's not like they could even prevent it anyway: their minds became twisted at some time and seeing each other on a daily basis made the whole situation worse.

I tried to disguise it for as long as possible, even from you, the reader. If you can't beat them, join them. Well, I can't just protect society and be a supposed role model for the rest of my life. It's physically impossible for me. So I guess I have to join the killers, cannibals, and psychopaths out there. Maybe it won't be so bad...

My focus came back to the group of people in front of me, chattering on and on, showing off that awful God forsaken characteristic. I moved out, wanting to isolate myself a bit. While heading to the living room, I saw Anne and John coming down the stairs together, and afterward, people started piling up the stairs. Surprised by all the commotion, I followed them into a little room filled with couches and armchairs, while Andrew gave all a little introduction:

- After lunch, if anybody wants to, you can sleep in here. We finished the search for the furniture last week, so this would be the Grand Opening of this room!

- Where did the couches come from? - Sarah asked. - I don't want to be sleeping on a couch filled with bedbugs and stuff like that...

- Well... My parents left the house to me in a will and uh... They died last month. - Guy said. - So the couch comes from there. - I could see in his face the strength those words carried, the effort to remain senseless and not burst into a sea of emotions clear.

- How the hell can someone sleep after eating? They should be like me... - I heard Victoria say. - An active beautiful and young person that just walks it off...

People started going downstairs and to the backyard. Thinking lunch was served, or maybe conscious of my rude actions and trying to be more polite, I followed them, but stopped in the kitchen, where Ivy and Maggie still talked, the dialogue remaining one-sided. Pulling a stool, I sat down next to them and I noticed a book that overwhelmed a stack of magazines. The cover showed: "Who Took Christian Anderson?" The cover was only a tilted chair, and below, the author's name yelled in big bold letters: Erica S. Niegel. Picking it up, I took it to Erica, that chatted in a big group of people.

- I'm sorry to interrupt. - I said, trying to get in between Simone and Tobias. - But I just gotta know about this... You wrote a book?

- Dear God, why do you guys have this? This was so long ago. - She said, turning around to Andrew on the grill.

- We're practically hoarders, Erica. Name something that we don't have in this house.

- Guns, daggers, poisons... Should I stop?

- Actually... - Andrew started. - We do have a gun, but you won't find it. Only me and Ivy know where it is.

- I know where it is too... - Guy Finch said. - I was the one that helped on the construction of their safe room. The gun was there, no doubt. I just don't know the code.