Laura

She's dead... She's actually dead.

I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to. I kept thinking that it was all merely a bad dream; a nightmare. One that I would wake up from any minute now and find myself in the comfort of my own bed. Except, it wasn't just some figment of my overactive imagination, it actually happened, and I was living every second of it. It wasn't crimson paint that was caked all over the mauve colored walls of the master bedroom—it was blood, the blood of my dead mother.

As much as I wanted to forget all of it, I couldn't unsee what I saw in my mother's bedroom. It was permanently burned into my memory by the very flames of fright. Once I gazed into her room, I shrieked in absolute terror, like any horrified character in a horror movie would upon discovering the maimed corpse of their loved one.

The corpse of my mother was sprawled out on top of her bed, her glossy eyes wide open as her soulless irises gazed in my direction. Mass amounts of her blood were splattered all over the room, staining the majority of the bed sheets, carpet, and the once spotless walls. It wasn't even the worst of it; what made me really sick to my stomach was the condition of Mom's lifeless cadaver.

Gashes and slashes of all shapes and sizes blanketed the surface of her pallid skin, the most apparent lacerations were located on the anterior side of her bony wrists. The entirety of her outfit was practically saturated in her own blood, giving off a somewhat metallic scent in the room. Her mouth was left agape, droplets of blood trickled from her cracked lips onto her chin and down her neck. Worst of all, in her right hand she was holding the very culprit responsible for her injuries: a blood-soaked kitchen knife.

Whoever had ruthlessly taken the life of adoptive mother was no ordinary killer, the murderer was experienced, as adept as Beethoven was in the art of music. Be that as it may, the murder made one simple mistake on their part: they left the bedroom door unlocked. Parts of the door frame were chipped around the strike plate, an indication that someone had busted the door open from the outside. If Mom had actually committed suicide, she wouldn't have left her bedroom door unlocked or purposely tried to break its locking mechanism entirely, not unless she wanted to me to find her in such a mangled state. The officers thought otherwise, they couldn't find any other signs of forced entry within the apartment and the little evidence they were able to scrounge up suggesting it was a homicide wouldn't be enough for them to legally organize a manhunt for the alleged murder.

This wasn't his—or her—first rodeo, and it wouldn't most likely be their last either. The killer was still out there, somewhere, possibly waiting to strike once again as soon as it had its eyes set on their next victim.

I watched silently from the living room as two coroners carried a body bag from the master bedroom all the way to the hallway outside the apartment; containing the bloody corpse of my adoptive mother. I guess it didn't take me until that very moment to realize the gravity of my current situation. My mother—the woman I once looked up to for her outgoing spirit and lively vigor—was gone, leaving behind only an empty shell that had been heavily afflicted by her alcoholism. Things may have been rocky between the two of us for the past year or so, but she was still my mother. She wasn't the best one in the entire world but at least I knew she wasn't suffering anymore.

My eyes never left the obsidian bag, not once. I couldn't bring myself to look away, my eyes were practically glued to the bag. I was stuck in a trance, one that could be defined only by angst. The two men set the body bag down on top of the stretcher waiting by the doorway, nodding to the paramedic as she began wheeling it away down the hallway.

I sat quietly on the living room couch, twiddling my thumbs together as officers were conducting a large-scale investigation within the apartment. My home had become an official crime scene, the nexus of a brutal homicide, and I was stuck in the middle of it all. My mind was all over the place, my thoughts had been nothing but incoherent, and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry my eyeballs out. My electric blue eyes were brimmed with tears, dribbling incessantly down my reddened cheeks. Not a single sound left my lips, not a whimper, sob, or wail. I silently cried.

A number of investigators and officers directed the majority of their authorized probe in master bedroom, inspecting my mother's blood-soaked deathbed and everything else within its vicinity for any and all pieces of evidence that were waiting to be found. That wasn't the only place that they were thoroughly examined; they searched everywhere. When I meant everywhere, I meant everywhere. From the living room, kitchen, and dining room, to the pantry, bathrooms, and closets. Not a single room was left untouched nor left out of their investigation. Heck, they even were going through the bottle filled trash bag I had forgotten to take out this morning before they moved on to my bedroom.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind that they would've even been able to find anything useful in my room—of all places in the apartment—it was located up above on the second floor, quite a ways away from the primary crime scene. The least they would find was the assorted posters that decorated my walls, my Devil May Cry and Metal Gear Solid games, and the rest of my miscellaneous books, trinkets, and other necessities people would find in a teenage girl's bedroom.

I pulled my knees close to my chest, blinking away the numerous tears that had swelled up in my eyes and rested my forehead on top of my kneecaps. She's gone. I can't believe she's really gone... I'm alone, all alone. The very thought of being forsaken made my breath hitch in my throat. What's gonna happen to me now that I've been orphaned? More importantly, what will Child Protective Services do as soon as they find out about my current predicament? Will they—

"Laura Rose?" A benign voice spoke up, followed by the sounds of numerous footsteps and thus putting an end to the swirling thoughts that raced through my mind.

I lifted my head up off my knees, my tear filled eyes meeting the male cop's baby blue ones. "I'm Lieutenant Walker, this is Officer Jenkins," He gestured toward the female cop standing next to him. "Is it okay that we ask you some questions about—" The lieutenant suddenly fell silent the moment he noticed how emotionally distressed I was. My eyes were swollen and inflamed, my once pale cheeks were evidently flushed, and the numerous tears that cascaded like raindrops down my cheeks only made it more obvious how much of a sobbing mess I was.

The lieutenant glanced over to his left at his partner, "Jenkins, will you give us a minute?"

She nodded her head at him, turning around and heading down the hallway towards the master bedroom, leaving me alone with Lieutenant Walker.

The caucasian appeared to be around his early thirties, if not older. His short, cappuccino blonde hair was neatly combed to sides of his cheeks, the longer tendrils partially covering his right eye. His uniform was slightly different from his fellow officers attire. Not only was he sporting a black tie around his neck, the color of his long sleeve polo shirt matched his admiral blue pants. His biceps and hamstrings were bulging from beneath the surface of his uniform, proudly displaying his muscular physique.

Unlike all the other stone-faced cops, his expression was much more sympathetic, the corners of his mouth were quirked down forming a frown. It wasn't the kind of frown that conveyed disappointment or dissatisfaction, it was one that signified condolence. He knew that that my outburst wasn't some act to pretend to be hysterical over my adoptive mother's death, I was in fact devastated.

He kneeled down on one knee in front of me. "How are you holding up?"

Really? I just stumbled upon my mother dead in her bed and you're asking me how I'm holding it up right now? Yet again, he's the only cop here who has taken the time to acknowledge my presence as well as ask how I'm currently feeling, despite how obvious how distraught I really am. Cut him some slack, Laura.

"To be honest, I feel like I just fell down a rabbit hole and stepped into a world that isn't my own. Into a place that could only be described as a real life nightmare." I wiped away the tears that cascaded down my cheeks, using the tips of my fingers to do so.

Leaning his back towards the end table to the left of him, Lieutenant Walker grasped ahold of a box of Kleenex, holding it out to me. I glanced down at the tissue box, before directing my gaze back up at him. "Thanks." I plucked a tissue from the mini cardboard container, using it to gently mop up the remaining tears as he had set the tissue box back down on the end table.

"Better?"

I took a deep, extensive breath of much needed air, repeating it a couple more times until I was no longer breathing irregularly. "Better."

A genuine smile decorated the lieutenant's lips. "I'm aware this isn't exactly the best time right now for you, but would you be willing to answer a couple of questions?"

No matter how overcame with grief I was, I was more than willing to comply with the questioning. It was gonna happen at some point, and I was just as eager as them to find out who murdered my mother in cold blood. I may not have known exactly who it was that had committed such a heinous crime, still, I hoped that whatever information that I was about to share with the lieutenant would help him and his unit track down the bastard down and bring him or her to justice.

I maintained full eye contact with Lieutenant Walker, crumbling the tissue in the palm of my hand. "Yes, I'm more than willing to."

Lieutenant Walker pulled out a notepad and pen from his pocket, clicking the end of his writing utensil and opening the mini notebook to the first blank page. "If I ever make you feel uncomfortable, or ask you something that's too personal for you to answer, don't hesitate to let me know. Okay?"

I nodded my head at him, crumbling the tissue in the palm of my hand.

"Miss Rose—"

"There's no need to be formal, lieutenant," I interrupted him. "Laura is just fine."

"Alright then, Laura. Can you tell me what happened?"

I clenched my fist even tighter, digging my nails into my hand. "I found my mother dead in bed not long after I got home, and I called 911 soon after that."

He jotted it down in his notes. "Where were you before this happened?"

"I was at school all day," I replied. "I go to Roosevelt High School. You can check with my teachers there to confirm my alibi."

Lieutenant Walker continued writing in his notepad. When he glanced up, his eyes briefly lingered on my nose. "Did you have a nosebleed recently?"

"Yeah, I got into a fight with a guy at school today." I wiped off the dried blood from within my nostril using the tissue I was holding onto. Once I was done, I shoved it into my pocket. "You can ask the principal about it while you're there. He'll gladly tell you what happened."

Lieutenant Walker made a note of in his notepad. "Is there anything else you want to tell me that I should be aware of?"

I nodded my head and lowered my voice. "I don't think this was a suicide."

He paused for a moment, immediately looking back up at me. "What makes you say that?"

I bit my lip nervously, thinking about how much I should share before answering. "The door was unlocked when I found her like that. That along with the fresh blood on the door handle. She normally keeps her door locked most of the time. Those were the second and third indications that something was wrong."

Concern glowed in his eyes "What was the first indication?"

I lowered my head a bit, the corners of my mouth quirking down. "The moment the smell of something rotten filled my nostrils when I came home from school. To be more specific, when I was lingering over by the front door."

Lieutenant Walker's eyes widened ever so slightly, "Are you sure you were over by the front entrance when you first caught a whiff of it?"

"As surreal as it sounds, it's the truth," I answered, shifting my gaze towards him, "I don't know why, but I've always had a strong sense of smell ever since I was a kid. It's practically a blessing as well as a curse—"

"Out of my way losers!" A defiantly feminine tone of voice demanded, raising her voice a bit. The sounds of scuffling footsteps echoed throughout the hallway outside the apartment, increasing in intensity with each passing second alongside her labored panting.

Emilie?

"Not so fast, Emilie!" Another familiar voice spoke up, "I can't understand how you can be so motivated to run that fast when you can't stand running the mile during gym class!" Another pair of footsteps pounded another the polished floor board, much more coordinated than the first pair. I stood up from the couch, taking a couple steps in the direction of the entryway.

Tyler?

Directing my gaze towards the hallway, Tyler and Em bolted through the open doorway, with two officers following not far behind them. By the time Em had reached me, she had her arms wrapped her tightly around my waist, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Thank god...thank god you're okay!" Em glanced up at me, gradually letting go of me.

"How'd you two get here so fast?" I inquired.

"His parents drove us here," she gestured her thumb in Tyler's direction. "We rushed our asses over here as fast as we could. We heard what happened. Word of your mom's death has traveled fast around town, and it's being blown way out of proportion. It's making a lot of people paranoid."

"And now, the story is being broadcasted on news stations across the city. The whole town is up at arms, Laura, and we're not the only that are freaking out about this," Tyler said, his tone laced with a hint of apprehension.

"We thought that you could've been hurt or possibly even worse, dead! DEAD for crying out loud—" Emilie didn't finish her sentence as her hands were abruptly pinned behind her back, secured in a pair of shiny handcuffs by one of the officers. His partner quickly followed suit and handcuffed Tyler's wrists behind his back.

"Wait! Don't arrest them!" I rushed forward, clutching the officer's wrist while he was maintaining his grip on the collar of Em's shirt, "They're my friends! They haven't done anything wrong!"

"I would beg to differ Miss Rose," The officer affirmed, "Your friends are trespassing and have entered an official crime scene without proper authorization. With all do respect, they're gonna escorted to the station and jailed for the time being until their parents decide to show up to settle this matter and bail them out."

They were about to drag them out of the room when Lieutenant Walker spoke up, "Santiago, Duncan." The two officers shifted their gaze towards their superior as he had approached them. "Uncuff them and head back to the station. I'll deal with you two later."

"But sir," Officer Santiago interjected, "They're—"

"Did they assault an officer or any of the other on duty personnel?" Lieutenant Walker inquired.

Officer Santiago shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows, "No sir."

"Did either of them tamper with any of the evidence?"

"No sir."

"Did they ask either of you guys first if they could visit their friend before they decided to sneak past you two while you were stationed in front of the building's main entryway?"

"Yes sir," Officer Duncan answered, lowering his head a bit.

"Then there's no need to incarcerate them, they haven't done anything wrong," Lieutenant Walker stated, glaring in their direction.

"But sir—"

"Now." The lieutenant suddenly cut them off, his tone sounding more intimidating.

Both of the officers silently gulped, removing the handcuffs around their wrists before making their way out of the apartment. I glanced over at Lieutenant Walker, my electric blue eyes meeting his baby blue ones.

"Thank you, for what you did back there." An appreciative smile decorated my lips.

"No problem, Miss Rose," he responded, before looking over at Emilie and Tyler. "This is your only warning you two. The next time either of you pull something like this, there will be consequences. Criminal trespass is a serious offense. I understand you two were worried about your friend here, but you could've messed with potential evidence. Neither of you did though, and that's the only reason I let you guys off the hook. Have I made myself clear?"

Tyler nodded his head. "Yes sir."

Lieutenant Walker directed his gaze in Em's direction. She gulped. "Yes sir."

He shifted his attention back to me. "We better get going here soon."

I raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"Laura, it would be best that we head on over to the station to continue this conversation. Away from the growing crowd outside." He gestured his head towards the windows.

I strolled over towards the closest window, pulling the certain back only to notice the massive horde that had gathered near the apartment complex's entryway. Police officers were stationed beside the main doorway and all around the closed street, standing guard and forming a barrier in order to keep the immense mob at bay. Citizens gaped curiously from behind the man made barricade, conversing among themselves in a series of hushed whispers. A multitude of reporters from their respective news stations had already set up shop outside the horde of individuals, broadcasting the latest news on a number of channels for their viewers at home to watch.

"I see..." I peered over at my friends then redirected my gaze back at the lieutenant. "Can I at least take some time to pack what I need before we leave?"

Lieutenant Walker grasped ahold of his chin with his callused fingertips for a brief moment, pondering over my question before answering, "It isn't safe for you stay here anymore, now that the situation has taken a turn for the worse. We've already searched your room and ruled it out as another potential crime scene. So...go ahead. Pack whatever you may need. I'll be waiting down here for the time being."

"Alright," I glanced over at my friends. "Tyler, Em, you mind helping me real quick?"

Emilie nodded her head, "Sure thing, Lari. Let's go, Tyler."

The three of us raced up the staircase and made a beeline for my bedroom. Upon reentering the room, I pulled out a colossal scarlet suitcase from underneath my bed, setting on top of the mattress and unzipping it all the way open.

I shifted my gaze over towards the ravenette. "Emilie, go grab my toiletries from the upstairs bathroom," my eyes then met Tyler's as Em left to gather my personal hygiene products. "Tyler, help me cram my suitcase with some of my clothes. I don't have any specific preference at this point, just toss me whatever you find in my closet."

Once Tyler had opened the closet, he began taking random articles of clothing off their hangers and hurling them in my direction. I caught each clothing item with ease, neatly folding them and placing them inside my suitcase before catching the next one thrown to me. As soon as we had finished packing my travel bag with enough clothes for me, I hurriedly grabbed some of my undergarments, my laptop, my textbooks, my Dean and Dante plushies, my hardback copy of the "Red Queen," and a few other of my cherished possessions and stuffed them inside the suitcase. A few minutes later, Emilie reentered my bedroom, dumping the handful of hygiene products she was holding into my travel bag.

"Okay, that should be everything," I zipped up my suitcase all the way, setting on the ground.

"Here, let me get that for you." Tyler stepped forward, gently grabbing the movable suitcase by its handle.

Despite how much I wanted to tell him that I could carry it myself, not a single word left my lips. I couldn't form an audible sentence nor syllable. I was more than aware of the reason why I couldn't will myself to speak my mind yet I didn't want to admit it: I didn't want to because he was only trying to be helpful. Why else would Em and him have came over here for? Today had been a long day, especially for me. A lot had happened in such a short period of time, leaving me immensely worn out, careworn, and ready to hit the hay for the night. Still, there were a couple things I needed to do before I could sleep my troubles away.

A smile curled onto my lips, "Thanks Tyler," I looked over at Em, "You too, Emilie. I don't know what I would do without you guys."

"If anything, you would have locked yourself up in your room and jam out to Evanescence, Linkin Park, Fall Out Boy, and other 2000s bands while doing what nerds like you do," Emilie remarked, her lips forming into a partial grin.

I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head at her, "Chienne (Bitch)."

"Imbécile (Jerk)," Em replied back as the three of us made our way back down stairs.

* * *

"Finally," I sighed out, setting my school bag down on the ground in the guest bedroom.

After spending the last three hours of being cross-questioned by Lieutenant Walker, I was finally allowed to leave the station. Before heading out to meet up with my friends and the Nivans waiting their vehicle outside in the parking lot, the lieutenant offered to help find me more appropriate accommodations. I was still a fifteen-year-old minor, and my previous home was an official crime, and therefore, no longer a suitable residence to reside in. I kindly declined his offer, telling him that I already had lodging preparations made beforehand. I led him to believe that I was gonna stay with my father's sister and her family up north in the Pinehurst district of Seattle. Except, Dad didn't have a sister—he was the only child in his family—it was a complete lie I had carefully sculpted from the ground up like fresh clay to keep my actual arrangements a secret.

I was well aware of what would happen if Lieutenant Walker ever found out that I lied straight to his face about my living arrangements, no matter what my justifications were. If I ever had to cross that bridge, I would argue that I did it in order to keep a low profile. It was a plausible reason after all, knowing that numerous reporters and journalists would come flying to Emilie's doorstep as soon as they found out where I was staying. And yet, it wasn't them I was worried about. Did someone really kill my mother? If so, is he or she really still out there? Will they come after me next? Or will they simply let the memory of her mutilated corpse haunt me for the rest of my life? I really was scared to find out.

Tyler wheeled in my suitcase into the spare bedroom in Em's lavish apartment. "Lari, where do you want it placed?"

The only reason Mr. and Mrs. Nivans agreed to let me stay with Emilie without any complaints was only if Tyler was able to crash at her place as well. Being the nervous Nelly she was, it was her idea for the three of us to spend the weekend together, more or less like a sleepover. It was better to be safe than sorry.

I looked over at him, my eyes landing to his sinewy, broad shoulders, observing them as they flexed underneath his shirt. My cheeks became flushed at the sudden realization of what I was doing. "Um, just put it over by the bed for now."

Once Tyler had set my suitcase by the bed, he strolled over in my direction. Approaching me, he wrapped his lean arms around my skinny waist, pulling me into a hug.

"Good night, Laura."

I peered up at him. "Good night, Tyler. Try to get some sleep, will you?"

Tyler released his hold on me, "Only if you do,"

A smile decorated my lips, "Trust me, I definitely plan to."

He exited the guest bedroom as Emilie entered, leaning her back against the doorway. "Is there anything else that you need, Lari? Are you hungry? Do you need something to drink?"

I shook my head, my electric blue eyes meeting her mocha ones. "I'm good, Em. Thanks for asking though," I unzipped my boots, taking them off and setting next to my travel bag, "Where are your parents though? Shouldn't they be on their way home from work soon?"

"Nope, they're currently in Honolulu. They're attending their company's annual conference, they left last Wednesday and won't get back next this Thursday...thank god." Emilie strolled forward, pulling out something from within her jacket. A manila envelope with my name and mailing address on it.

My eyes went round, "Emilie...? Is that what I think it is?"

Em nodded her head at me. "If you mean your copy of the printed contract that legally entitles you to contact your birth mother on your birthday, yes then," she held out the envelope to me.

"How were you able to get it?" I asked, taking the enclosed documents from her.

"You dropped your mail key at school earlier," Emilie dug out the said key out of her jean pocket, tossing it back to me as I caught it with ease. "I know that this is totally random, but I thought to myself upon finding your mail key in the gymnasium: Oh no, Laura dropped her key. I better return this to her ASAP so she'll be able to unlock her mailbox," she shoved her hands inside her pockets as she continued. "When Tyler and I initially entered the apartment complex, I decided to check your mailbox for you. Even though it was all out of curiosity. When I unlocked, there it was. Volià!"

"Thanks Em, I owe you big time," I went over and hugged her.

"No problem." I let go of her, turning around walking back to my suitcase and pulling out a clean pair of pajamas and my hairbrush, "Good night, Lari. See you in the morning," Emilie turned around, ambling towards the doorway and halting beside it to face me one last time.

"Good night, Em," She closed the door behind her as she left, making her over towards her own bedroom.

I changed out of my attire into my admiral blue tank top and matching shorts, neatly folding all of my dirty clothes and setting them beside my travel bag on the ground. Placing my phone down on top of the end table, I pulled off the hair tie that kept my hair up and out of the way, letting my long, blonde, wavy tendrils of hair fall loose upon my shoulders. With my brush in hand, I quickly brushed out my hair, letting the plastic bristles comb through all of the silky strands and unravel each and every one of the bundles of knots. Now that I was wearing more comfortable apparel and my hair had been neatly combed out, I was ready to open up the manila envelope and find out the name of my birth mother.

With my heart set on my desired goal, I sat down on the edge of the bed, opening up the envelope and taking out the enclosed documents out of it. I began to skim through each page, turning one page after another to find the section where my birth mother had signed her name. My grip on the edges of the packet tightened, slightly crinkling some of the papers. The anticipation was practically killing me, I've been waiting all these years to finally know the identity of my birth mother, and I was literally pages away from finding out. The moment I reached the very last page of the packet, my eyes landed on printed name of my biological mother, written elegantly in cursive.

Claire Kennedy

"Claire Kennedy," I said her name aloud, letting it roll off my tongue.

If I were to be honest, it sounded like a popular teenage girl's name, and a pretty one at that. I placed the documents back inside the envelope along with my mail key, setting it on the end table to my left before crawling into bed and getting comfortable underneath the bed covers.

Now it was only a matter of time before I get to actually see her in person. My eyelids steadily became heavier by the second, closing them and letting my last bit of conscious slip away as I drifted off to sleep.