My name is Scarlett Amory; I'm not really sure why I'm writing this, but somehow it feels important for there to be a written account of what's been happening. Not to be narcissistic or anything, but I don't think that what I've seen or done recently should just fade away and be forgotten in the case of my death. Which, as of late, has actually been a more pressing issue than one would think it would be for a 19-year-old girl from Elm Creek, Nebraska, and yes, it is as rural and empty as it sounds.

Now, I realize I've been very vague so far so I should probably start getting to the point. The fact of the matter is that if you are reading this, I'm dead. You might have known me or maybe you just found this accidently. If so, congratulations on not getting bored yet and also, I humbly ask you to keep reading. After all, I am dead. Show some respect. Anyway, I guess the beginning is a good place to start.
I was sitting in the back row of an empty bus heading back home to Elm Creek for the summer. My first year at The University of Chicago had been good, if a little uneventful. Of course, it was better than the hellhole that was Elm Creek, but even there, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was just missing. Before I could dwell any further on the lack of purpose in my life, my phone rang, saving me from the existential crisis I would have inevitably worked myself into.

"Hey mom," I answered.

"Hey! You almost home?" She sounded so excited to see me. I felt a pang of quilt for being so miserable at the prospect of coming home. I knew it must be hard for her living alone after I had left.

"Yeah, I'll be there in about ten minutes," I responded, trying to put at least a semblance of pep in my voice.

"Great," she paused, sounding nervous all of a sudden, "by the way, I have a surprise when you get here!"

"Okay, can't wait!" I said, and then hung up. I had no clue what this surprise could be. Surely, it couldn't be too bad. I looked out the window as we passed the

"Welcome to Elm Creek" sign and then the memorial with get well wishes for Ms. Hastings. She had been attacked a week ago. The attacker hadn't been caught yet and apparently everyone was still reeling. I hadn't known her well, but my mom was shaken. She used to go over for drinks at her house all the time. I knew that I was being selfish and probably a bad person, but I had hoped that she wouldn't want to talk about it. Emotions were not my strongpoint, and when I tried to comfort people, it was uncomfortable for everyone involved. From what my mom did tell me though, Ms. Hastings' attack was the strangest thing to happen in Elm Creek ever. Apparently they had found her lying on the floor of her house, almost completely drained of blood, struggling for life. The weirder part was that she had just lain there, still alive, but unmoving, just staring at nothing. They got her to the hospital in time but she remained completely unresponsive. Her body still functioned but it seemed no one was home anymore. Nobody knew what to make of it. The only "lead" the police had was that Ms. Hastings had been reporting objects flying and crashing around her house on their own. Not what I would call a legitimate clue.
When the bus rolled to a stop, I stood and braced myself for my mother's onslaught of affection. Look on the bright side, I told myself, now that you're home, you'll be able to read, binge-watch Netflix and generally avoid the outside world. When my mom saw me, she barreled toward me, wrapping me in a bear hug. She basically looked like an older version of me; 5"5, freckles, dark brown hair, average in most ways. Although, she got cascading curls while I was stuck with flat and straight. Lucky bitch. On the way home, she of course talked my ear off, letting me know all the riveting details of Elm Creek that I had missed. I nodded, smiled and replied with "No way!" or "I can't believe it!" at all the right intervals. When we got home, a car I didn't recognize was parked in the driveway. My mom looked over at me expectantly.

"Okay, surprise time. Promise to try and keep an open mind," she said.

"I promise," I said suspiciously. We walked in the house and my mom shouted,

"Robert, we're home!" Who the hell is Robert? I thought. A man walked into the hallway. Honestly, he was attractive, which had just made me more nervous. He was tall, lean, had gorgeous raven colored hair and wore a prim button down shirt and black dress pants.

"Scarlett, this is Robert Keres, my boyfriend," my mom said. Okay that I hadn't been expecting. It was good though; she needed someone to be there for her.

"Hello, It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard nothing but good things," he said cordially. He looked down at me with his sharp, elegant features, and stuck out his hand. I shook it awkwardly, held on too long or maybe not long enough. I could never tell. Then it was time for me to not make an ass out of myself, which I usually couldn't accomplish when meeting new people.

"Um, hi…yeah, nice to meet you too," I said.

"Why don't you go put your stuff upstairs, and then we can go to dinner somewhere," my mom said.

"Yeah, sure, good. I'll uh, be right back." Robert smiled and said,

"Take all the time you need." I turned around and headed for the stairs, as I passed the door, the doorbell rang. Damn, what had happened to avoiding the outside world? I opened it, and tried to contain my alarm. Two men stood on the porch. One of them was, well not to be rude but gargantuan, with hair he really should cut sometime. But hey, who was I to judge? Maybe he dressed up as Bigfoot on the weekends. The other man was shorter, but still tall, with a reasonable hair length. Both of them however, were very muscular and very attractive. Damn, I really was going to make an ass out of myself.

"Hi," the Bigfoot-like one said, "I'm agent Hamill and this is agent Ford, we're from the FBI. Can we ask you a few questions?"