“We received a call from the house of 3A Psalters Ave. We arrived t the house, but there was only one elderly woman. Now we know that there is also a Miss Lyric Wolfe living at that residence. Now if you happen to see her, send her to us. We are putting her up as kidnapped. Investigations of the murder scene at 3A Psalters Ave. would go so much smoother if we didn’t have to worry about a missing victim. You have our business card, but we must be on our way. Farewell, Mr. Jamison”
I couldn’t breathe. I tried, but I couldn’t. My grandmother, the only person left alive in my family, was dead. Murdered, gone. What could I possibly have done to deserve all of this? First my parents, then my sister, now this. Just then, Christophe disturbed my thoughts.
“Hey Lyric? Are you okay? I’m so sorry for this, not---“
“JUST SHUT UP! SHUT UP! YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING, SO HOW CAN YOU ASK ME IF I’M OKAY?! MY FAMILY IS DEAD, CHRIS, DEAD! THEY ARE NEVER CMING BACK! “
I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I didn’t want to yell, but now my entire family was gone. All murdered by some insensitive jerk that couldn’t control themselves. I had to go see her. My grandmother was always there for me, and now it was my turn to return the favor. I got up, Nami in hand, and ran out the door. I didn’t care if I was barefoot, or if my lungs gasped for a breath of oxygen. I just wanted to see her. To see all of what remained. I ran faster, tears stinging my cheeks.
When I arrived at my grandmother’s townhouse, I was bombarded with camera-people, FBI agents, CSI agents, everyone. They all asked the same thing: am I okay. There was no way in Hell that I would be okay. Not when I was broken, broken beyond repair, but none of these people would realize that. Not a single one. I ignored all of the people, cameras, flashes, everything, and slammed my way into the house.
It was so horrid. There was blood everywhere. Small, grotesque blotches of it everywhere. Even the ceiling was covered. Each blotch having a piece of a gruesome story to tell. I traveled down the hallway, avoiding all contact with the wall and large blood stains.
As I turned, I could see the police tape going around my grandmother’s bed. On the bed was a body bag, as full as life, but as empty as loneliness itself. At that point I realized that she was truly gone, and I couldn’t lie to myself. I was numb, and didn’t know what to do, so I sat, right in the doorway. People nudged by me, and occasionally tried to talk to me. They all got the same, non-responsive Lyric. All I could do then was cry. I didn’t want to be alive. Just the thought of being alone for all of eternity was upsetting. I had Christophe, but he was a friend, nothing more. Nami was a dog, and even dogs don’t live forever.
After what seemed like ages, I got up and walked over to my dead grandmother’s bedside. The people in charge of the investigation had long since taken away the body but I just had to look. There had to be some clue, some link to the attack, the attacker, anything. I looked around the window, the closet, the bedside table, and finally, the bed. I looked at everything on the bed, but found nothing. I knelt down on my knees, and just then something caught my eye. It had looked like a dust bunny, but it moved, and there was no drift. I slowly lifted up the bed sheet and staring back at me were two menacing yellow eyes.