If Not for One More Day

Chapter 1: A Taste of Oblivion

Cynthia Velasquez had a bad night.

Unable to find any parties that night, she wandered alone into the South Ashfield Station subway. She had gone there countless times, taking it for granted. But that night, there was something different about it. She felt like she was in a dream.

Soon, she would meet a sort of cute guy on the subway. He seemed confused, misplaced, and awkward. She promised him a "special favor" in return for helping her find a way out. She wasn't sure if he understood what she'd meant, but he was nice enough to try to help her. He even waited for her to come back while she tried to cope with a sudden bout of nausea in the restroom.

But she wouldn't come back.

Something happened and they got separated, but she didn't stay alone for very long. A mysterious man began to stalk her. She recognized him as a young homeless man whom she rejected years ago. They had met on the subway, and although she was nice to him at first, once he revealed that he had known of her for a decade without actually talking to her, she thought him a stalker, and derided him as "disgusting" before quickly leaving the subway.

She attempted to escape the man, but he cornered and killed her in one of the subway cars. He penetrated her flesh over and over again with a knife until he was apparently satisfied. Then, he took special care to etch a five digit number into her left breast: "16121".

The slightly cute, awkward guy arrived too late to stop the assailant. There was blood all over her and the car, but he still cradled her in his arms and attempted to comfort her by telling her it was all a dream.

All a dream...

Unbeknownst to them, she was the first in a series of victims in the "Walter Sullivan Case Round Two", where ritualistic murders in the style of a criminal who killed himself years before were committed. Unbeknownst to them, there would be three more victims.

Unbeknownst to them, there were supposed to be two more.

Cynthia Velasquez had a bad night once, and it killed her.

Her final thoughts would be mixed between two men: one who was nice enough to try to help a complete stranger like her, and another who stalked and murdered her with an inscrutable expression on his face. It was like he was separated from reality, floating above it but not really connected to it.

If that even was reality...

Reality. Right. No matter what the nice man told her, there was no denying the fact that that was her last fragment of reality, and she would never have another again.

Or would she?