Two Years

3.) Back Home

Present day:

Maya discovering the murder was a mere coincidence. In fact, the curious redhead had practically stumbled upon the scene. It was less than a day before that she made the decision to drive home from college. She had hoped that the note she discovered taped to the wall inside of her dorm was a distasteful prank, an imbecilic joke created by someone with a twisted sense of humor. After plenty of interrogation, Maya came to the conclusion that her roommate couldn't have been responsible, nor was she convinced that her roommate would do something that insensitive. She paced rapidly, trying to rationalize the situation.

"Someone has to be screwing with me," she whispered harshly, "this can't be happening. FUCK!"

Still however, thoughts of uncertainty raced through her mind despite her best attempts to keep a cool head and remain rational. These thoughts got the better of her and she soon found herself impulsively making the two hour trek to Northville.

"Fuck rationality," she thought to herself, "better safe than sorry. He obviously knows where I am. I'm no safer at school than I am here."

When questioned by her parents, Maya claimed that she simply wanted to surprise them for Christmas. She wondered how they'd react to the real reason for her sudden visit.

"The serial killer that harassed my friends and me two years ago and also killed several of our classmates before inexplicably disappearing is back in action and sending me threatening letters. Merry Christmas!"

"If only." She snorted.

After surprising her family and dropping off her things, Maya began to drive aimlessly through the familiar streets of her hometown. When the loud wails of police sirens blared and several vehicles with flashing lights zipped past her, she could feel her stomach churn.

Something had been triggered in Maya's mind that inexplicably resulted in a risky U-turn in order follow the police cruisers. It only took about three minutes before she stumbled upon the site: her former high school. After parking a couple of blocks away, Maya exited her vehicle, sauntered casually to the front of the school, and stood as close as she could without being caught or crossing the yellow police tape. There were several conversations going on at one time and Maya listened closely, trying to pick up on details of the crime.

"Only twenty years old, poor kid. No one should have to go out like that," a dark haired police officer said solemnly to a taller blonde man in uniform Maya couldn't identify.

"Isn't he one of John Robbins boys?" the man asked.

"Yep, Evan Robbins," the police officer nodded, "he was one of the only surviving victims of those high school attacks I was tellin' you about. Worked at his dad's store. Good kid."

A rush of several different emotions began to course through Maya's body.

"Oh God, not Evan. That's not fair." she thought, "Poor Jade. Even though they broke up I know she'll be crushed."

Everything after that was a blur. A very discombobulated Maya slunk back into the front seat of her sedan and let her right hand ball up into a tight fist. She slowly raised that fist up near her face and slammed repeatedly against the glovebox.

"Breathe." she whispered harshly under her breath trying to compose herself.

She knew where she needed to go, or rather who she needed to go see, but something was holding her back.

"Will he even want to see me? Will any of them?" she muttered nervously, "worth a shot."