Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts.
Warnings: Minor Language, Slight Perverted Themes, Threats, etc.
Author's Note: This is an AU story with characters that could become "out of character" if it contributes to the story. Furthermore, I had formatting issues when I uploaded this from my linux machine.
Letters. It started with letters. And from that begins my story.
It was an unassuming, fall day. I trotted happily down the stairs after completing my homework, the little I was given, seeing as it was a game night. When I came into the kitchen, I saw my mother washing the dishes. After a quick realization that discovery would mean extra work, I slipped into my spy mode and tip-toed slowly away from the kitchen. I was not going to waste my night off doing chores.
"Hello Kairi," my mother's singsong voice pieced my ears. Damn-it. Caught. I turned and approached her casually; letting my shoulders sag and my red hair cover my eyes in a vain attempt at looking tired.
"Hello Mom." I patted her on the shoulder. She was either getting older, or I was getting younger. It wasn't that her red hair had begun to gray, but her hair just seemed to lack the usual shimmer it had when I was younger. At least her voice still had its kick.
"Could you go get the mail, Hon?" Eh, wasn't the worst job I could have received.
"Sure, Mom," I replied with great spirit. After all, one can win a gratuitous amount of brownie points with enthusiasm.
I approached the front door, located to the right of our kitchen, and opened it, finding multiple letters haphazardly left on our doorstep. Damn lazy mailman.
I brought them back to the kitchen table and sat down, sifting the bills from the private mail. Such menial labor for a genius.
At the bottom of the stack, however, I discovered a very peculiar letter. It was addressed to me. I found it odd considering I never received mail.
The letter was inside a small, handmade, yellow envelope, the kind normal girls fold together instead of paying attention in class. There was no "Send-to Address" portion or even a return address. Hell, there wasn't even a stamp.
I toyed with it for a couple minutes. Could it be a scholarship? Or maybe a love letter?
Lack of knowledge about things tends to run our imaginations wild.
"Mom, I sorted the letters for you," I said in a daze. What was in that letter? It almost seemed too unique to open. I continued fiddling with the exterior.
"Thanks, Hon," she replied as she turned to get out the blender.
I slipped the letter into my new, pink dress's pocket and climbed back up stairs into my room. I plopped myself onto the bed in the corner. It was a small room with light blue walls, though I prefer the word "cozy". It had a closet, a bathroom, a computer, and food and water stockpiled in a corner in case of the Apocalypse. My mom thinks it's crazy, but I think you should be prepared for anything.
I pulled the letter out from my dress and did everything I could do to analyze it without opening it. I'm just quirky like that. You would be too if you were a genius. I used a flashlight to find the dimensions of the contents. From what I could tell it was a rectangular piece of paper. I dusted it for prints. Yes, I'm serious. Oddly, I found none other than my own. That piqued my interest further. I took out the magnifying glass which I always kept in my pocket. Don't look at me like that. Do you know how useful these things can be?
By looking through the magnifying glass, I discovered a small blotch of red on the back. Red? I was both puzzled and slightly disturbed. It didn't appear as though it was red ink or anything else innocuous.
I quickly went to my closet, shoving aside some stuffed animals along the way, and opened the small safe I received from an aunt on Christmas a couple years ago. Neither of my parents knew the combination, so instead of storing money in it, I stored the stuff I didn't want them to see. Uncouth literature, powerful oxidizers, reactive metals such as lithium or sodium, thermite, and some other miscellaneous chemicals. I was always a sucker for chemicals, but what girl wasn't? Oh yeah, all of them.
After sifting through the vials and flasks, I came upon my small vial of pre-mixed luminol. It had gathered dust from lack of use. Poor thing.
I returned to my bed anon, picked up the letter, and proceeded to take it to the desk next to my computer. I placed a small drop of my good friend luminol onto the red stain and I flicked the light switch next to my desk into the off position. The small drop of the yellow liquid turned bright blue, signifying the presence of blood. I furrowed my brow and looked nervously around my room.
As the wise sage Sora once put it: Shit just got real. Fast. Now you might think I was overreacting, but be aware: most geniuses have paranoid tendencies. They fear the unknown: the lack of knowledge about death, the risk of others stealing their work, hell even the equation X=X can cause some to tremble in consternation due to the lack of certainty about X. I furrowed my brows quickly, glanced side to side once more, and then returned my attention to the dispatch.
The blue faded after thirty second. My heart was in turmoil; I didn't know whether to be exited or disturbed. I composed my body. "It was just a letter," I told myself.
But while my body was normal, my mind had no problem conjuring up scenarios. What if someone were murdered when holding the letter? What if it were a will? What if there were a murderous ant in the letter after my blood?
See, I'm weird. All this over a simple letter. I need to get out more.
I looked at it again, toying with it in my hand.
I decided to open it.
The yellow paper crinkled and ripped as I carefully attempted to open it. Well, about as carefully as a ten year old kid ripping open presents on Christmas.
I looked at the contents carefully. I had got the size right. I was a small rectangular piece of paper. However, the only thing I found normal about it was it was written on stationary. Letters and words haphazardly cut from various magazines were strewn in a diagonal fashion all across the page.
How odd? I furrowed my brow and read the message.
Dear Kairi
I miss you. I think I'm going to drop by sometime to visit you.
My eyes glanced over the text. Obviously it was prank, but what an unusual prank. It was probably just an old, eccentric friend coming into town to visit. After all, most of my old "smart-kid-camp" friends were pretty eccentric. All smart people are.
I continued reading, finishing the letter. My heart dropped.
It was signed:
Love,
Your Stalker
Shit just got real. Fast.
I glanced over my back instinctively in a paranoid fashion. No one there. Obviously. Did I really expect some rapist would be behind me? Yes. But shut up.
I stood up in a daze. I walked downstairs, not really paying attention to anything. I instinctively went to the front door. I don't know why, the mailman wouldn't have dropped anything off.
But there it was, a second letter. Instead of a yellow envelope, it was a blood red envelope forged in a home made fashion. My heart beat rapidly. A baby could have figured out the connotations of a blood red envelope. Sweat dripped from my forehead. And without saying anything to my mother, I went upstairs.
I checked everything. Call me paranoid. Call me insane. I god-damned made sure there was no one in my room. My closet, shower, under my bed, everywhere I checked. I locked my door and my windows.
I sat down at my desk. I was hoping in my heart that what I was expecting wouldn't be true. I was hoping and praying that the red tint wasn't due to the slippery substance that pumped in out veins: blood. My hands were shaking. I spilled my open vial of luminol onto the envelope. I didn't need to turn off the lights. I saw it. The whole envelope shone a deep blue.
The envelope had been completely soaked in blood. I turned around. No one there.
My heart beats quickened exponentially; sweat was pouring down my body. I grabbed the home phone located next to my desk.
Did I call the police? No.
Did I call my Dad? No.
I called Selphie. I don't know why. I just did. People do strange things when they are frightened.
Ring
Ring
Ring
"God Damn it, Pick up" I shouted into the phone. The phone mocked me by repeating my message back to me.
Ring
"Hello, Selphie speaking," I heard. Thank God
"Yes, it's Kairi," I was panting like I had just run a marathon. "I need your help."
Click.
Aw hell. "Hello?" I shouted nervously, "Selphie, are you there!" Soon, the dial tone rang throughout my ears. Damn it. The phone line had been cut. I grabbed the knife I had always kept behind my computer. I kept it in my right pocket.
Sweat was dripping down my body; I looked nervously around my room. I grabbed my left arm and started scratching it repetitively, like a man pacing a room. Soon, it began to draw blood.
Fear does strange things to people.
After a final look behind me, I focused my attention on opening the letter. It crinkled with dried blood and I opened it. The dried blood rubbed into my palms and my hands looked as if they had just murdered a man. I read the letter
It read:
Look at your window
I didn't want to. I fumbled the knife out of my pocket and opened it. I took a short glance to the window. Nothing would have looked suspicious to a normal person. But I was a person in a state of panic. At that time, every branch, every bird, every flower, looked like a murderer, intent on making me a victim.
I turned around again, and slowly got up, keeping the meager blade clenched in my right hand. I approached the window. I look out of it, checking for anything and I mean ANYTHING that looked suspicious. I found none. I checked behind me again. Nothing. I examined the window.
I found a small paper crunched between the sliding window and the window sill. That location scared me more than anything.
That meant he could open my window. And to retrieve that note, there was no way in hell I was going to open that window. I took what little of the note I could get to from my side of the window and I ripped it from the base. It was part of a Christmas song. What the hell?
Oh, you better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout I'm telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to town. He's making a list. Checking it twice. Gonna find out who's naughty or nice. Santa Claus is coming to town. He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good. So be good for goodness sake.
you better watch out...
That was all I could get from the ripped piece. He knew I wouldn't open the window; he read me like a book.
Shit's getting more and more real.
I started shivering. I took a large piece of construction paper and taped it over my window. In a rush, I returned to my bed in the corner and sat there, leaning up against the wall. My eyes were constantly dashing from object to object, looking for a sign of movement. I was still shivering and had cold sweats.
I remained like that for the rest of the night.
Authors Note: Man, I sure am a bad mystery writer. Oh well, I'll try to update soon.
