The Wallflower Effect

Chapter 19: We're Off To Catch A Killer.

Coming home, I saw my parents weren't home. Honey was though, and I played with her for a few minutes before she wore herself out. I made my way to the fridge, but nothing in it held any appeal. Not having anything better to do, I went up to my room to kill some time. It didn't work very well for me. Nothing seemed... fun, anymore. 

I tried to do something. Anything. I got out some old supplies my parents had got for me a few Christmases ago, despite me never showing artistic ability or even interest. Nevertheless, I made a feeble attempted to paint, which resulted in a mockery of a watercolor landscape, a now ruined canvas, and charcoal all over my shirt. I tried to listen to music. 80's. Classical. Punk. Rock. Katy Perry's latest hit. I even tried to play some smooth jazz. None of it calmed my mind. 

I picked up Mansfield Park, one of my favorite novels ever, but not even books could distract me. I ended up staring at the ceiling, picturing each and every person I trusted secretly committing gruesome murders. It just didn't fit. I knew them too well, trusted them too much. Before I knew it, it was noon and huger began to gnaw at my stomach. I wasn't one to skip meals, but I just couldn't bring myself to sit up. Questions and memories whirled around my head, tormenting me. I checked the alarm clock at the side of my bed. It was already two eighteen in the afternoon. Not all that much time till eight, when we were due at Morgan Steel's house.

I wondered what would happen once we were there. Would Gage and Eathan get in a fistfight over my heart? No, probably not. Would there be bickering at least? Most likely.Would Morgan Steel actually get killed tonight because of someone's fixation on me? I wasn't religious, but I sincerely prayed she would not.

Deciding torturing myself wasn't going to do much good, I productively stared at the wall instead. 

Finally, the hunger got to me and I forced myself to get up and wander down to the kitchen. My parents had apparently opted to go enjoy their new-found freedom without me, as they still hadn't turned up. That was probably for the best. On my way to the kitchen I found Honey lazily napping in her  dog bed. My lips quirked in spite of my dark mood. I picked up a pack of grapes and set to munching on them, while I grabbed the Wii remote and put Once Upon A Time on the screen. Clearly, I wasn't going to solving any great mysteries any time within the next hour or two so I may as while enjoy Captain Hook in all his tall-dark-and-Irish glory.

As I mindlessly popped the seedless red grapes into my mouth, I thought about how they never showed this to you on TV or books. The in between time. The unbearable waiting you suffered through while your world fell apart around you as you watched it burn helplessly. Or something slightly less dramatic. They showed you non-stop action and perfect endings. Just the action, just the trials heroes went through before everything worked out for them. If only that was how it really worked.

I waited. After a while the clock read three. Played a few more episodes. Felt some more guilt. Honey woke up and attempted to console me before giving up and going back to nap in her bed. Threw away the grape stems. Five thirteen. Played a few more episodes. Took a bathroom break. Six. More brain-rotting Netflix marathon. Seven twenty three. I went upstairs and changed into black combat boots, red leggings, and a black knit sweater. Seven thirty.

I gave my self a once over in the mirror, deciding I looked good. I looked at the clock. Seven forty. I picked up the keys to the my prized, yet rarely used, motorcycle. It was time.

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I drove to the address Morgan had texted me, hesitantly knocking on the door and praying it was the right house. Morgan answered and ushered me inside to her living room, looking like she had never had so much fun in all her life. She excused herself to 'make lemon-aide and fix her makeup.' I said she was fine and sat down, looking at who had showed up.

I saw Eathan first, and I stopped and shot him a tender smile. He returned it, looking relieved. We gazed at each other a few seconds too long before I broke eye contact.

I was surprised that when I gazed around the rest of the spacious living room, I saw that no one had opted not to come. Four Officers I didn't recognize stood by the windows. Their holsters weren't buckled, I noted. I don't know if others observed it, but tensions seemed to be high anyways. Doubtful that cops were to blame for it. Wary looks were exchanged all around, but no one argued. It appeared a fragile truce had been called for. I was glad. Since I was one traumatic experience away from a mental breakdown, this came as a welcome surprise to me. The only two people who didn't seem to very inclined to join the happy friendship circle were Morgan Steel's parents.

Morgan's mother was a curvy pale-skinned blonde with a severe expression. She strode in confidently, with her husband, presumably, trailing behind her. Morgan's father was a African American man with bright green eyes, and the twinkle in them told me he was more amiable than his wife. Morgan's mother looked ready to strangle me and her father looked ready to hold her back.

Morgan skipped in perkily behind them, carrying a tray of lemon-aide and freshly baked cookies. Maybe I was crazy, but it seemed to me she wasn't very put out by, you know, the unknown person making death threats. I envied whatever allowed her to not care about what had been tormenting me for weeks.

"You're that Castro girl, aren't you?" Mrs. Steel asked venomously. 

"Uh, no?" I lied convincingly. I heard Jessica snort indelicately.

"Would it have killed you to host your shenanigans elsewhere?" Morgan's mother hissed.

Well, now that I thought about it, I could have had everyone meet at my house. It would have been an awful lot of explaining to my parents, but it could have been done.

"Ma'am, your daughter was threatened explicitly, by name. I doubt location would have made a significant difference to this person hurting girls." Derek pointed out sensibly, saving me from aking a blubbering fool of myself.  

"I trust you have security in place then, Detective?" Morgan's father asked calmly. His accent wasn't southern, but a clipped British one.

"Indeed, we have around twenty officers patrolling ar-" Officer Coleman's reassurances were cut off by the abrupt flickering of the lights.

A second later, the power went off, and we were bathed in darkness. It was only a bit past eight but at this time of year that meant it was fully dark outside, and there was little moonlight. We couldn't see more than five feet in front of us. I heard a shout, then there was gunfire. I couldn't tell where it was from. I grabbed Morgan, who had been sitting on the couch next to me while her mother lectured me. We ran.

"This way!" She yelled, and pulled us up a flight of stairs. I didn't think it was paranoia that made me here footsteps behind us. 

We climbed one more flight of stairs before Morgan pulled us out. She made for solid looking dark wooden doors that could barely be made out in what little light there was see by. The ice that trailed down my spine told me the steps we heard behind us weren't made by someone who had good intentions. 

We burst through the doors, and I saw it was a library with tall, wooden shelves stuffed with older looking volumes. There was three windows with heavy golden drapes. Moonlight streamed through them. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or the terrorizing circumstances we were in, or Morgan's accusatory screaming of "YOU?" but as I turned around, it all fell to place in my head.

Little things I ignored or didn't see at the time aligned to form one clear picture. It all made sense. As I did a controlled about-face, I wasn't surprised by the face I was met with. I was surprised, however, to see the hands grasping a gun.

"So. We're finally doing this, are we?" I ventured, coming to stand protectively in front of Morgan, who was shaking violently.

"Yes. It appears we are." Jessica's moonlit face answered in a sing-song voice. She pulled put the gun of safety with a small but audible click. Her expression hardened.

"Now, my sweetest Zoey, would you mind getting out of my way?"

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If you saw this coming, I applaud you. If not, I applaud myself. Don't worry, I'm working on the next chapter soon, so I shan't keep you waiting too long. Put your thoughts in the comments if you'd like.

~Mage