You Are Being Watched

Chapter Two

I can hardly remember the events of that night. It had all happened so fast it had become a blur and of the memories I had, some I just forgot entirely no matter how hard I tried to remember them. My grief and trauma psychologist says its because my subconscious is blocking out what my conscious can yet to handle. I can't say that I disagree but then again my life was flipped upside down and shaken for whatever happiness I had left, so I would understand why I would want to forget. After all of my winter break, through the entire month of January and pushing into the start of February spent in that office, on that deep leather couch, the endless chatting and the silence between us; I think I would believe anything my psychologist told me.

The events I do remember, even though minor, where the ones I wished I would forget because when everything came to light, I knew the craziness that happened was only the beginning.

"Hello?" the other line of the phone had asked as my shaking hands held it close to my ear.

"Molly," I said, my voice shaking and falling apart as I shrank further down into the corner I was sitting in, "It's Luca, I-I-I need help. I don't know whats going on-"

"Luke, Where are you? Is Sammy there?" Molly asked sounding serious and concerned.

"She's-" that was all the words I could utter as I looked over at Sam's cold body which crushed whatever small amount of steadiness I had mustered before letting out another painful cry.

"Luca, listen to me," she said sternly, "Do not move from where you are. Don't call the police, I will have agents there right now, they will take care of everything."

"Agents?" I asked sniffling and shaking, "I don't under-"

"I'll explain everything, I promise," Molly replied quickly, "just stay where you are."

The phone call had ended directly after she finished speaking. About fifteen minutes after that there were people dressed in black and bulletproof vests, armed with several guns and weapons, swarming my house that was now a crime scene. I suppose it was better than being a scene from a slaughter film. The "agents" were assisted with people in white hazmat suits, cameras with bright flashes, people chatting on radios and others bagging any possible evidence. One would think they were the police, putting aside what Molly had said, but looking at them closer and watching their movements, I knew they weren't. I hypothesized that they weren't even apart of any government organization known to civilians, the amount of whispering and lack of flashing lights in the driveway seemed to give it away. With each flash of the camera, I was reliving the horror that night held in its dark hands. There were flashes of memories that synced with the flashes of the camera but the soundtrack of that night had already been playing in my ears on repeat.

The wind, the blood, the shot. I felt as if I was drowning at the sight of them.

I remember seeing lots of faces but none of whom I knew. I don't remember speaking to anyone, but I remember people trying to speak to me, ask me questions. I'm sorry to say I wasn't much help. I think the shock was taking hold because when they spoke no sound would reach my ears that would be louder than the noise that was already there except for one voice:

Molly's. 

I don't know how long I was sitting there in that little corner by the entry of the kitchen next to the wall of the stairs but I know I had gotten up and left with Molly. I don't remember her arriving but I remember us leaving, her opening the car door and closing it behind me. Seeing her with her blonde hair that fell just at the top of her shoulders, lightly tanned skin and hard eyes made me think of Sam and just like that I felt like I was reliving her death and the death of my parents all over again.