Nyctophilia

Chapter 1: "Way down we go."

Paris, July 12th, 2003. 

"Today, a 46-year-old man by the name of John West has been arrested for the murder of his wife.  According to an autopsy that has recently been released, she was strangled to death with a pair of earphones. Bruises were covering the majority of her body possibly suggesting she was in an abusive relationship.  The couple had two children and we will not be releasing any photos or last names of the victims to protect their futures."

London, November 5th, 2017.

I took the house keys that I left on the counter earlier and grabbed my black coat. My hair was still tied up in its usual messy ponytail while my make-up has most likely somehow disappeared off my face. Walking towards the back door of the restaurant, I yell goodbye to my co-workers and leave my shift. 

I look through my car window and see my younger sister texting someone instead of doing her homework. I roll my eyes and gently knock on the window to alert her. Rose's eyes widen and she quickly grabs her homework from out of her school bag and starts reading what looks like an extract from a Shakespeare book.  

I open my door and jump into the front seat. My sister, still mumbling the words to herself as she reads, gives me a thumbs up before I could ask her how she was. I start the engine and get ready to change gear. My hands grip the driver's wheel and we're off.  We move slowly and I turn right onto the main road.

"Traffic, as usual..." I mumble. 

Rose quietly laughs and places her extract on her lap. 

"Hey, at least you don't have to write an essay on how Shakespeare introduces Romeo's father to the plot?" She replies with a bored sigh.

I smile and ask when it's due. Her head turns to me and a frown appears on her face. 

"Thursday..." She answered. "I know it's Tuesday... I just haven't had time. You know, with all my Tennis tournaments, exams, etcetera."

"And dad's birthday?" I babble.

Her eyes stare into mine for what feels like a solid minute and I immediately regret what I just said. 

"Yeah... and that." Her voice is shaky. I could see her eyes start to fill with her soon to be tears. As I was about to wipe the tear forming in her light brown eyes, A loud car honk came from behind us. I jumped in my seat and realised all the cars in front of me had started to move forward. Rolling down my window, I shove my head out of my window, surprising the figure behind me with my middle finger in the air.

"Moment émotionnel voilá espéce de con!" I yell.

{TRANSLATION} "Having a sentimental moment here you dick head!"  

As soon as I start to roll my window up, I hear a distant "Fuck you!". 

I laugh and start driving forward. 

"Perhaps I can ask your teacher for some extra time. I mean if it was just a paragraph, I'd make you do it, but since this is a whole essay... I'll ask. What's your English teacher's name?"

She stuffs the extract into her school bag.

"Mr Hunt, but you'd most likely call him Dylan Hunt." She replied.  "Wasn't he your English teacher?"