38
ALEXA KING
-Present-

Shaw's Diner
October 13, 2018
1:00 p.m.

THE DINER'S PARKING LOT is filled with all types of cars, including a police cruiser. Despite its popularity in Levittown, it has never been so full. That's when I know something's wrong.

I lean against the wall that's between the front door and the display window, practicing the breathing techniques that my father has taught me to control my nerves.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

My mind is going a mile a minute, while my heart seems to be on overdrive. I can't shake away this feeling of dread that's settling in my stomach, the notion that something bad has already happened and will continue to happen.

Do they know that I've been withholding information that's crucial to the investigation? Do they know about Melody's paintings? Her letters? Do they know that I know who's the killer? Do they know I'm a liar? Will they hold me accountable for Christopher's actions? Will I be considered an accomplice to a murder for not going to the police as soon as I found out?

I curse myself for not going to the police sooner. It's not fair that I didn't even get the chance to confess, but I guess that's life. Whatever's shaking this small town today, be it because of me or someone else, I have to face it. I can't hide and pretend to be any better than Melody's killers.

That's when it strikes me --- killers, as in plural. Who else helped Christopher?

The ting of the diner's bell and the quick whiff of the cold air conditioner on my face make me realize that I'm actually inside. The place is twice as packed from what's portrayed in the parking lot. Everyone grows quiet and looks at me, their eyes following my every movement as if suddenly aware of my existence.

Detectives Ellis and Jones are on the far end of the diner, talking to a crying Mrs. Shaw in low murmurs. Their gazes stop on me for a moment, a flash of sympathy and pity directed towards me, before they continue to talk to Mrs. Shaw. I've never seen her show any kind of emotion. She's just like her son or, rather, he's just like his mother in that sense. They only show emotion when something is seriously wrong.

"Christopher's on his way," Mrs. Shaw mumbles between sobs, her soft voice sounding louder in the silence.

My body paralyzes in the middle of the diner when I hear those words. He's coming over here. He's going to see me and will want to talk to me about last night. I can't bear the thought of seeing him in this new light. I want him to be my Christopher forever, even if it's all a lie. My heart thumps aggressively against my chest, a mixture of the usual excitement his presence brings and the dread of knowing what he's capable of.

I can't do it. I won't do it. As I turn around to leave, there's a sound that was intended to be soft but is loud in the dead silence that surrounds the diner.

"Alexa, over here," Sebastián whispers, beckoning me over to my friends' table.

My steps are rigid and hesitant as I approach their table. They're all here except for Christopher and Melody, my favorites of them all. Either they're avoiding my gaze or there's something interesting on the table's wooden surface.

"Everyone's here to watch it all come down," Catalina mumbles, the first one who dares to look at me. "I sent you a message more than an hour ago, but I guess you haven't missed much. He's still not here."

I furrow my eyebrows, not exactly knowing what they're all waiting for. My eyes settle on Logan, who's beside Catalina.

"I swear to fuckin' God I'm gonna kill the motherfucker," he says, seething. His body is shaking with what I assume to be rage, veins popping on his neck and balled fists. "It ain't a joke. Imma kill him."

"He's been saying that ever since we heard the news," Micah mumbles, his lips brushing against the brim of his porcelain cup of coffee. "We don't know what else to say to calm him down."

The news. That's all they seem to talk about. The one thing I don't want to know.

"How are you holding up?" Sebastián mumbles, placing a hand on my elbow.

I furrow my eyebrows and pucker my lips. "What are you talk-"

"This is bullshit, can't you see it?" Nari interrupts, slapping the newspaper with the back of her hand. "Christopher isn't--- He wouldn't do something like this."

Did she just say Christopher? What's known about him?

"Your mom wrote the piece, so it must be true," Micah mumbles, sipping from his coffee. "I'm honestly not surprised. He's always been... off."

"I'm sorry," I say, capturing their attention. "What the fuck are you all talking about? What's wrong with Christopher?"

Catalina's eyes grow wide. "Haven't you heard the news? It's all over the country by now. I sent you countless of links to access the newspaper report."

I feel heat on my cheeks as I remember the hundreds of unopened text messages. "I've been ignoring the news."

"That ain't aight."

"Thank God," Sebastián says, puffing out some air. "You should be with your dad right now, Alexa. You're too exposed here... out there."

"Nigga, please," Logan mutters, snatching the newspaper from Nari's grip and handing it to me. "Fuckin' read."

I glare at him, long and hard. Despite Sebastián's constant protests, I look at the newspaper's front page.

The first thing that captures my attention is a large picture that I took of Christopher during Melody's disappearance. It's in black and white, but I can remember its colors --- the dirty blonde of his hair, the white glint of the riverbank behind him, the afternoon sunlight bathing everything golden, the dark green of the grass, the clear celeste blue of the sky, the white of his teeth, the crystal blue of his eyes, the black of his shirt resting on his naked shoulder.

He's smiling so brightly that lines appear beside his eyes, a dimple marking one of his cheeks. Droplets fall from strands of his wet hair, their fall paralyzed as they stand forever still in the photograph. I remember this day as if it was yesterday. It's a series of moving images filled with laughter and chatter and love.

Smile for me.

I smile, passing the pads of my fingers on his printed face. His deep laughter comes to mind, the splash of water after we threw ourselves in the riverbank, the wet sound of our lips pressing together. My heart, along with all my insides, warms at the memory. The nostalgia of it all suffocates me, taking a hold of my throat and depriving me from air.

Below the picture, in tiny letters, it says: Christopher Shaw, eighteen, smiling for the camera while Melody Tryniski was missing. If they're going to use a picture as evidence of his guilt, what does that make me? I was behind that camera, giggling as I repeated 'smile for me' until he finally gave in. I was with him that afternoon, finding an escape from everything that was happening with Melody.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but is it enough to hold someone accountable for something as gruesome as a murder?

LEVITTOWN TODAY

PROGRESS IN THE TRYNISKI CASE: A SUSPECT HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED

October 13, 2018

Written by Ann Lee

LEVITTOWN, Utah. - Five weeks after the body of seventeen-year-old Melody Tryniski was found brutally murdered in her house, a witness to that day comes forward.

During this time, officials leading the investigation were beginning to worry about the possibility of, like many other murder cases, the Tryniski case turning into a cold one. The lack of both evidence and witnesses was leaving them with no other possibility, until this week when a witness decided to break their silence.

This person is speaking out now because, as officially reported, they "were scared for their life." The witness went on to say, "[I] couldn't keep it in much longer. It makes me feel guilty." The witness, who wishes to remain anonymous for security reasons, claims that Christopher Shaw, one of Melody Tryniski's friends, entered the Tryniski residence on September five around five o' clock in the afternoon. It's reported that he left the Tryniski residence an hour later, around six o' clock.

Although Shaw left the residence more than an hour before the actual murder occurred, officials leading the investigation don't discard the possibility of him returning to commit the murder. Shaw was around the area when it happened, so it will play as a piece of evidence for the reconstruction of the events of that gruesome night.

In addition to these new details, the suspect doesn't have an alibi for his whereabouts during the hours of seven and eight o' clock of September five. Officials leading the investigation will also take into account the fact that Shaw didn't mention seeing Tryniski that day during his multiple interrogations.

A crisis of identity

Since there are reasons to believe that Christopher Shaw is the killer who has kept Levittown in fear for the past couple of weeks, an anonymous person decided to provide some crucial information to LEVITTOWN TODAY exclusively. This person, who claims to know Shaw in an intimate level, claims that the suspect is not who he says he is. What they reveal to us is shocking.

Christopher Shaw, whose real identity is Milo Schäfer, is none other than the youngest son of American serial killer W.S. (William Schäfer). The name should resonate to citizens of Levittown. In 2008, W.S. raped and murdered twenty-five African American women in the span of two months. During this time, his eldest son, Wilhelm Schäfer, was twelve years old, while Milo Schäfer was eight years old.

It is reported that Christopher Shaw (Milo Schäfer) suffers from depression and anxiety. There is also suspicion that he may suffer from sociopathy or, like his father, psychopathy. Shaw is being treated by Levittown's only psychologist, Dr. Edgar King.

This piece of information may bring confusion, since W.S. killed King's wife during his 2008 killing spree. Their only daughter, Alexa King, who is also friends with Christopher Shaw and is the person who found Melody Tryniski's body, found her mother's murdered body.

Investigators are looking closely at how this new piece of information relates to Melody's case. If Shaw/Schäfer is the killer we've been looking for, it may be part of a possible motive.

Life for the Schäfer family after the arrest

The-

"This can't... This isn't true," I whisper, looking up at my friends with a nervous smile. "Christopher can't --- isn't W.S.'s son."

"Finally!" Nari says, her voice thunderous in the endless silence. "Someone with some sense."

"It looks pretty legit to me," Logan mutters.

Ask him about the summer he disappeared and his daddy dearest. I have no doubt he's going to lie.

My friends become blurry dots of colors --- pink, black, orange, blue, green --- an amalgam of them. The ground is moving, shaking, collapsing below my feet, while the walls begin to close in on me.

Breathe.

I can't, I can't, I can't.

You have to breathe.

I don't want to.

Breathe, damn it.

I gasp for air, my lungs burning with Levittown's toxic air. Black dots begin to appear all around me, my head pounding, pounding, pounding, never stopping. The world moves around me, faster and faster, until I'm in the middle of a tornado of my own making. The pounding in my head turns to dizziness, a feeling that starts in my brain and ends in my stomach. I gulp down the bile that wants to rise to my throat, feeling its constant descend and rising.

My eyes flutter shut as my body falls forward, but I grip the edge of the table to keep myself steady. The newspaper is still in my hand, so I tighten my grip on it.

"Alexa, you shouldn't be here." A voice far away, an echo existing in another dimension. Is it Sebastián or Micah? "Let me take you home."

He grabs my elbow gently, but I flinch away from him. "Don't touch me," I whisper, my voice breaking.

Where are my tears? Where is my source of liberation? Everything's accumulating inside of me, so close to exploding, and there's no release.

The ting of the diner's bell awakens me from my living nightmare. I know it's him, despite giving him my back. It's in the smell of vodka and nicotine, the faint scent of the spicy cologne I love so much.

My grip tightens on the edge of the table, the newspaper crinkling even more. My hairs stand on end, while my heart beats frantically. I want to rip it out, to not feel anything forever.

I turn around, my eyes now wide open, and find him standing in front of the diner's door. There's a communal gasp, a more suspenseful silence. Christopher's eyes roam around the room, until they find me. He always notices me.

His split lips are twitching to form a smile, but he decides against it once he notices my intense glare. The bruise on his eye looks darker against the sunlight, a lump that's slowly coming down. He's in all black today --- black, long-sleeve shirt, black jeans, black shoes. A stroke of black against all the white.

And, damn it, he's still so beautiful. My heart gives a strange leap, a beat I know so well, but I stand my ground. He doesn't deserve my love.

With some hesitation, he walks toward our table. People are scurrying away from him, as if his touch could transmit the disease that was genetically transmitted by his fucked-up father. They form a path for him to come straight to me, waiting with expectant eyes for what's about to happen. Even the investigators stand perplexed on the other end of the diner. What are they waiting for?

"I was hoping we could talk," he whispers, unaware of the strange atmosphere around the diner; unaware that everyone considers him a killer. "There was a huge misunderstanding last night and-"

"You've got some nerve comin' here, you sick fuck!" Logan spits out, aiming to stand from his seat to fight. From my peripheral vision, I see Nari and Catalina holding him back.

Christopher furrows his eyebrows. "What the fuck are you talking about? My mom owns the place."

"Oh, so now we playin' dumb," Logan says, laughing. "We know you a killer. Take off that nice, white boy mask 'cause it ain't no longer workin'."

Christopher looks at me now, betrayal and hurt swirling in his beautiful blue eyes. He thinks I told them about last night. "Can we talk somewhere else? Please?"

He walks closer to me, but takes a few steps back when he sees me backing away, the small of my back painfully pressed against the table's edge. "Alexa, please. It's all a stupid misunderstanding-"

"Misunderstanding?" I whisper, the rage evident in my voice.

I slap the newspaper on his chest, the sound of my hand connecting with his chest loud in the room. He flinches, the aftereffect of the slap burning on his already bruised chest, and takes the newspaper from me. Our fingers brush for a second, giving me a shock of electricity.

"Fucking read."

He does as he's told, his frown deepening when he sees his picture and remembers the day I took it. A sigh comes out of his lips, long and tired. "Yes, I went to Melody's place, but I didn't kill her. There's an explanation for everything, just let me speak for one second."

"I believe you, Chris," Nari mumbles behind me.

"Shut up!" I say without looking at her. "I don't fucking care if you went to see her. Keep reading."

A flash of pain passes through his eyes, but he keeps reading. When he finally gets to the part about his identity, his eyes grow wide with horror.

"Fuck," he mutters and continues to curse under his breath. His eyes find me again, wide and open and deceivingly honest. "Alexa, I'm... I don't know... I'm sorry."

So, it's true. I can feel my heart breaking, a crease carving itself on its middle, splitting it in two, draining it from its blood.

"What am I to you?" I mumble, my throat burning and aching and pounding. "An experiment? Am I some kind of kink for your daddy issues? Did you ever really like me or was I just a guilty pleasure? Tell me, was your purpose to kill me too?"

He's shaking his head now, some tears running down his cheeks. "No, of course not. I love-" He stops himself, his bottom lip quivering.

"I think that's enough," Sebastián says when Christopher attempts to get closer to me.

Christopher ignores all of them: Sebastián's warnings, Logan's threats, Nari's pleas. He ignores them all except for me. "You said we weren't our parents. You said-"

"I don't care what I said!" I glare at him, my nails digging deeper into the flesh of the palms of my hands. "It doesn't count when you're the son of a fucking serial killer. A serial killer who raped and murdered girls who looked like me. It doesn't count when your fucking father killed my mother. My mother."

"But I'm not him," he whispers, finally close enough to me to place a hand on my hip. "I was fucking eight years old."

My body reacts to him, still --- a sharp intake of air, a tremble of the body, a fluttering in the stomach. I make myself sick.

Sebastián stands up and separates him from me. My body goes numb, no longer strong enough to fight with him. Christopher and Sebastián begin to argue about something I can't understand. One thing leads to the other and, out of nowhere, Christopher punches him on the face. There's a spray of blood in the air, the sight making me squirm away. I shout as Sebastián falls unconscious to the floor.

My eyes turn to Christopher, wide with horror and wild with rage. "What are you doing?" The words come out of my mouth, but I can't hear myself saying them. There's a loud heartbeat in my ears, silencing everything and everyone.

Christopher is crying now, red staining his hands, pooling from the cracks of his fingers. "Don't look at me like that, please." His voice pierces through the heartbeat, broken and scared. "Don't look at me like they all do, Alexa."

Detectives Ellis and Jones finally decide to intervene. While detective Jones recites his rights, detective Ellis attempts to cuff Christopher's hands behind his back. He flinches away from Mr. Ellis, though. It doesn't work because detective Ellis is bigger and stronger than him.

"It's okay, baby," Mrs. Shaw says, placing her purse on her shoulder. "I'll be waiting for you in the station with a lawyer to clear this mess up."

There are flashes all around us --- where did the media come from? --- and questions being thrown without acquiring any answers.

"I didn't kill Melody," Christopher shouts to me, while he tries to wriggle away from detective Ellis' tight grasp. "I didn't kill her."

"What's your name?" I mutter, walking closer to him.

He pleads with me with his eyes, those crystal blue eyes that have been driving me crazy since fourteen. "I didn't kill Melody."

"What's your name?" I bluster, balling my hands into tight fists.

"I didn't kill Melody," he says, crying louder now. His head hangs low, strands of his hair pointing to the floor.

"What's your fucking name?" I shout, my whole body trembling with rage.

"Milo Schäfer," he screams in my face, his eyes wild and disoriented and lost. He's no longer crying. Instead, there's a look of pure hatred on his face. "And I'm not my fucking father."

I back away and stumble with Sebastián's body. My butt hits the floor hard, the shock of the impact paralyzing my body. Christopher no longer resists as they take him away, his body all limp and weak. They're practically dragging him out of the diner.

It's hard to be a pretty girl like you.

In this cruel, cruel world --- in this cruel, cruel world.

They don't understand the beauty of your skin,

The complexity in your curly hair,

The struggle of existing.

Everything turns dark and mommy appears in my dreams like she always does. Mommy, take me with you.

•Word count: 3,458•

Surprise! I was going to update this chapter tomorrow, but I took some time today to edit it, so why make you wait? To be fair, I should be writing chapter 39 right now (I'm going to get into that later today).

Peep the GORGEOUS cover made by my good friend Eastwards on top! ♡ Isn't it absolutely perfect for this book?!?! You'll be seeing it as Levittown's main cover soon, but until then, appreciate its beauty.

(If someone wants to make a cover or fan art or something creative for Levittown, you can send it to the email that appears in my bio).

Questions: what the heck is going through your mind right now? What the heck is happening in Levittown? I know some of you were both puzzled and curious about Christopher's past, and made some theories about him. What do you think of him now?

What do you think about their conversation? How are you feeling by this point? What are your theories now that you have this crucial information? Why did Christopher visit Melody on the day of her murder? What are your theories? What will happen next?

Feel free to correct any grammatical errors, but be kind about it. Tell me what you think of this chapter.

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