I sit on those stairs for a long time, and when I manage to get enough of a grip to stand again, I run upstairs to my apartment, lock the door, collapse against the thin wood, and cry some more.
The next morning, my eyes are painfully puffy. Thank God it’s the weekend, so I have some time to properly cope before pulling myself together for work. I turn on the news and my heart plummets at the coverage.
It’s Saturday,September 7th here in Meridian City.MCPD detectives are investigating a triple homicide that occurred last night on the 1700 block of Season Circle.Three men were found shot to death in an alleyway with red duct tape over their mouths,the distinctive calling card of the Meridian City Silencer.The police are asking anyone with information to call the MCPD tip hotline and ask for Lieutenant Martinez,the investigator on the case.
My body shakes as I watch the morning news on my 20-inch TV I found in the dumpster my first week living here. I blink and swallow the bile in my throat.
I think I was in such a state of shock last night that I was desensitized to the fact that I was standing a foot away from a serial killer that shot three men in front of me.
I pull out my phone on instinct to call the hotline. I’m stopped when it’s nowhere to be found, and I realize I dropped my phone, my purse, my wallet, myeverythingin that stupid alleyway and was so preoccupied with staring at my savior that I forgot to gather it all before I ran away from him.
I consider knocking on my neighbor’s door and asking to borrow their phone, but what the hell am I supposed to say?
Oh,hi.I witnessed a triple murder last night and my first instinct was to wrap myself in blankets and cry instead of going to the police.
There’s a one-million-dollar reward sponsored by the MCPD and the local government for any information leading to the arrest of the Silencer. I’m pretty sure he’s on the FBI’s most wanted list. I could use a million dollars, but I don’t think telling them I was almost gang raped but was saved by the resident serial killer is going to do anything except get me locked in a mental institution.
No. I need to keep this to myself. Pretend it didn’t happen. If the police saw me on any cameras or any witnesses saw me running, they would have already come to question me about it. I’m fine. I just need to stay calm and forget this whole thing ever happened.
I go downstairs at midday to my building’s lobby to check my mailbox. There’s a business card and a pink slip indicating I have a package waiting with the receptionist.
I don’t remember ordering anything, but maybe it’s something from my parents or my brother. I bring the slip to the helpful, scrawny blond man at the desk, and he hands me back a medium sized box. He holds onto it for an awkwardly long amount of time, staring at me and flashing me a crooked, unnerving smile. I uncomfortably laugh and tug the box free from his hand and then look down at it.
Plain brown box, addressed to me with no return label or any other indication of where it came from. I don’t think much of it and gather it in my arms before heading back up to my apartment. When I get back, I load my coffee maker with fresh water and let my beloved Keurig work its magic.
I take a look at the business card. It’s not uncommon to get them in the mail, especially from the surrounding businesses. Hell, I have a stack an inch high of business cards from the pizza shop across the street in my junk drawer.
The business card is a shiny, metallic gold, embossed with black lettering.
Hellfire Lounge: Bartenders Wanted! Ask For Frank!
I put the card to the side and keep it in the back of my mind. Bartenders make great money; I would know from experience. Maybe it’s something I could do on the weekends for extra cash, to help me move out of this terrible neighborhood sooner. I’ve never heard of the Hellfire Lounge, but if it’s as luxurious as the business card, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst place for a second job.
My spine tingles as I look at the mystery package on my kitchen counter. I take a sip of my coffee and open the box, praying it's not a bomb.
Though in this city, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised.
I close my eyes when I open the top, only peeking when I’m sure nothing’s going to explode. My jaw drops to the floor when I examine the contents.
My wallet, my phone, and my taser all lay inside. I check my wallet, and my ID is still there, along with all my cards and the same three dollars cash I always keep for the vending machines at work. Everything seems to be accounted for.
My heart squeezes.It had to have been the Silencer, right? No person in Meridian City would have returned my things without at least taking the cash from my wallet.
Aserial killerwent out of his way to return my most important belongings.
The thought alone is unsettling.
When the sun goes down, the rain finally stops. I need to take my garbage out, and I would rather get it done before it inevitably starts raining again. I’m on edge after last night, but I think I can muster up the courage to go outside by myself in the dark.
When I dump my garbage into the vile smelling dumpster, I hear a groan down the alleyway from me. I don't look at first, tensing every muscle in my body. Nothing is worth the trouble. Meridian City is the type of place where you ought to mind your business.
I hear another groan, followed by a thud and a small splash.
I can’t help it. I squeeze my eyes tight and then open them and whip around, taser out in front of me for protection. Just a few feet away, there’s a vaguely human shaped lump in the alley.
“Hello?” I call out, getting no response. I tip-toe two steps closer. “Hello?”
Still no response. I adjust my grip on the taser and step even closer. I gasp when I finally make out the figure.
