Chapter 6

Murder

I was lying down on my bed just staring at the picture for about five minutes. I felt so alone that my tears didn't even want to cry anymore. I can't stand to be alone, especially with nothing else to do. I remembered Friday night pizza with my grandparents. We'd sit in front of the plasma T.V. watching reruns of the three stooges. I knew when grandpa actually thought something was funny was whenever he would laugh and he couldn't hold in his snorts and grandma would think that was funny so she would join him in unison. We would stay up until two of the morning, sometimes it would just be me and my grandpa breaking curfew.

I remembered when grandma would go have tea with Mrs. Hendricks and she would want to bring me along, but I would cause a fuss and grandpa would come and rescue me. He would tell grandma that he had to help me study for a test so that the money they were saving up for me will actually be of use for my university tuition, but instead grandpa and I were making root beer floats and having stupid contests. Like for example, one day grandpa had this flashback of when he was a freshman in high school with his buddies; they would all join together in this tree house grandpa had built with his father in this massive tree they had in the backyard, and they would do ice-cream shots where each person had four shots of ice-cream and whoever took more shots in thirty seconds won. Grandpa had challenged me knowing I wouldn't resist. Unfortunately, the old man still had game, he had won by two, but then again I was only twelve and my teeth at that time were really sensitive.

I remembered the last time I hung out with my grandma, and it was the first time we spent time together alone. I was in her studio three luminous stormy nights before their death. She had Beethoven's moonlight sonata playing in the background. Her fragile right hand made light strokes on this rare, almost cardboard, white paper. Her left hand, where her golden wedding ring that had one small radiant diamond sealed tight in a petite crater still wrapped around her bony light skinned finger, held a light brown wooden pallet with warm colors spread in miniature circles. I sat on a wooden stool adjacent from her. She didn't speak a word for the first hour, then for the next half an hour she hummed. It wasn't until I got off the stool because my right ass cheek had fallen asleep and I felt my left ass cheek heading the same direction that she had spoken to me. I was standing behind her grasping the image before us. I was surprised to see my mother's flawless face lying against the paper, and no picture of her was located in the room.

"I remember your mother so well. I had her memorized ever since she fled with your father," grandma spoke. She stopped moving her right hand.

"What happened?" I whispered. Grandma sighed, her light brown eyes focused on my mother's face.

"I didn't approve of your father."

"Well, why not?" I asked hesitantly.

"A mother knows best," was all she said for a while. I strolled around the room to keep myself distracted from pushing her to speak more. Most of her murals were of forests in the night with blazing eyes hiding in the dark. Others were of sunset beaches falling into night time. There were some murals covered with stained sheets painters use to cover the floor. When I proceeded to lift it up just a bit, grandma had put her wrinkled hand that she used to paint to stop me.

"There's a reason they're covered child," she spoke in monotone.

"Why is that grandma?"

"You wouldn't understand." She made her way to clean the brushes in this silver sink she had near a far corner next to a grand window that embraced the image of our backyard.

"What was wrong with the man my mother fled with?"

"You mean your father?"

"Yes."

"He became our worst nightmare." I stood still hoping she would continue.

"It shouldn't matter to you child. He's gone. All he ever did was take my baby girl away, my baby boy." I saw her eyes glisten with tears.

"Baby boy?" Grandma had gently walked me out of the studio and closed the door behind me. That was the last I had heard from her.

I shook my head to make the memories fade away as if they were only smoke. These memories burned me alive. I wanted to leave the dorm, but I had promised Lexie I wouldn't wonder off alone, so I called her.

"Alexa?"

"Hey Lexie, umm, I just called to let you know I'm on my way to the rec. room. Being in this room alone is quite depressing. I don't know how you managed it." There was pause for a couple of seconds.

"Alright, do you remember the way?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it. Remember, I'm a good observer."

"Ha-ha, alright than, we'll be waiting at the air hockey tables."

"Alright, thanks. See you soon."

"Alright, lates."

When I walked into the room, Kayla had run towards me and pulled me into a hug. For a petite girl she was pretty strong.

"Kayla, can't breathe," I gasped.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just glad you're okay. You took quite the fall when you ran away."

"Don't worry about it. Your brother said I was lucky enough to have only gotten bruises." Kayla was staring into my eyes.

"What?" I asked her.

"Have you been crying?"

"What?"

"Your eyes are red." I had forgotten that tears had escaped every now and then through the flashbacks.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I'm okay."

"Is it because of your grandparent's death?" Lexie asked.

"Your grandparents passed away?" Kayla asked.

"Yeah, recently."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's okay." Kayla pulled me to the air hockey table and handed me the handle thing.

"Let's play a game. Maybe, that will get your head out of the clouds." I nodded. After five minutes of the game, Kayla won by one point. Vlad later challenged her and Lexie and Malik went to go get drinks. That left me and Mason sitting on the red couch alone. I tried ignoring his presence, to my luck my mind wouldn't drift away like it normally did, and if it did, it would only drift to my grandparents. I hadn't noticed how deep the memory had cut until Mason spoke to me.

"Is it your grandparents?"

"Huh?"

"You're crying." He wasn't looking at me though.

"Yeah."

"You want to go for a walk?" My eyes blinked a couple of times to realize he was serious.

"I guess a walk would be nice." He got up without saying another word. I guessed he figured I would follow, and I did.

The sun had set behind the mountains, and the lamppost lights blazed onto the concrete streets. Mason was walking with his hands in his dark straight jeans. His black hood was over his head, and his walk seemed to try to move slowly. After four minutes I was able to catch up to him and we walked for a while until we made it to the big circle with the little circle. Mason made his way down the small steps and sat down on the rigid bench. I stopped adjacent from him and stared at him. I guess I stared so that he could reassure me that he wanted me to sit down next to him.

"You're not going to sit down? " Bingo.

"I don't bite, unless you want me to?" He looked straight ahead and then up to the purple sky. I took a hesitant step and sat down next to him making sure that I didn't brush against him.

"How did your grandparents pass away?" He was very candid.

"Like you said, no offense but it's personal and none of your business," I replied abruptly. He chuckled.

"I think it would be of great help if you talked about it. Get it out of your system." I sighed. I suddenly had this urge of wanting to spill my guts out to him, but I became guarded as well.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I just want to help."

"Why?"

"Can't you just appreciate what I'm trying to do?"

"What are you trying to do?" he leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and rested his heads into his palms.

"I'm trying to be a friend. I'm trying to make up for those moments in which I seemed like a douche." I remained still for a minute.

"It was a rare death," I finally said. His head flinched my way. I took a deep breath.

"They were found in the living room. Their bodies were still and cold, almost pale. They're not sure of the cause of death." I began to have flashbacks of that endless night. Grandpa and I were in the billiard room. We heard commotion coming from my grandma's studio and grandpa went running to see what was going on. He then ran back into the room and told me to drop the stick and to run to our secret basement. We went running past the living room, but my grandpa stopped me and hid me in this old wooden closet like the one in my room. He told me to not make a sound, to stay there until the coast was clear. He took off his golden locket and placed it shut in my palms. The last thing he told me was that he loved me.

After that, a dark figure showed up in front of my grandpa. They were screaming but I couldn't understand the words they were saying. I tried to stay calm when the figure lifted him and threw him next to my grandma's body that appeared near the coffee table. I tried closing my eyes so I wouldn't burst out of that closet. The figure stood over them as their souls screeched for mercy. I covered my mouth to keep from making any noise, and I succeeded to close my eyes. After that, the room became distant, no one seemed to be around. I stepped out of the closet to find my grandparent's bodies lying next to each other. Their hands intertwined with each other's, as if to say they were going to die together. Then, I remembered something very odd.

"Their bodies were hollow," I said.

"What do you mean?" Mason got closer to me, his right arm resting on the head bench behind me.

"It looked like they could have had a heart attack, but their bodies weren't wounded, punctured," I panted.

"They didn't look dead but they were! They even had some blood loss, but how!?" I stood up with a sudden speed and began to pace back and forth.

"Alexa, calm down," Mason placed his hands on my shoulder. I received that same shock from the first time we met, and I pulled back.

"Sorry," he said.

"My grandparent's death wasn't accidental," I continued.

"But you just said it didn't look like they were killed."

"Think about it. Their bodies hardly had any blood on them, but they weren't wounded! That dark figure did something to them!"

"What's your assumption?" Mason began to get uncomfortable.

"The figure was quite strong and very fast. I remembered its voice was melodic, yet deep. It was a male's voice. He kept asking my grandpa for something, or someone. Yes, someone, because he kept asking, where is she?" I began to pace again.

"But how would he have killed them?" Mason asked.

"I don't know, but he was hovered over their chest and up."

"What was he doing?" Mason became impatient.

"I don't know!" I said agitated.

"After that, I couldn't see well. I didn't have such a good angle."

"Then, maybe it's not what it looks like in your head."

"I'm not crazy, if that's what you're trying to insinuate." I burrowed my eyes at him.

"Don't put words in my mouth. I'm just trying to understand where you're coming from." I looked away from him. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and looked up at the first star I could find.

"I don't think you can. Not even my Aunt Maggie can understand. Just forget about it. I'll figure this out on my own."

"How?"

"I'm a good observer and I have a good memory. I'll use it to my advantage." I felt Mason standing right behind me. His lips near my ear.

"If I could be of any help, don't be hesitant to ask." I turned around to face him. He was inches away from me just that he had to bend his neck down to have eye contact with mine.

"Thanks," I whispered. Then, I walked past him towards my dorm. He was right on my heel.

We walked through the hallway and he stayed close to me, even when I was opening the door with my keys. I walked into the room and he followed. I didn't know what to think of it. He looked around and sat down on Lexie's bed. I took a seat on the corner of my bed.

"Are those your grandparents?" he pointed at the picture frame of me and them sitting on the swinging bench. The only one I had.

"Yeah," I said in a low voice.

"You look very happy."

"I was." I pulled my legs up on my bed and sat criss crossed apple sauce.

"Was?" I got a hold of the frame.

"I just have this hole in my heart that I can't seem to fulfill."

"Don't they have a place in your heart?"

"Of course they do. I just feel like something is missing." I put the frame back on my desk. I turned to face Mason and he had that look of awe in his eyes. He then got up and headed towards the door.

Before he closed the door behind him he asked, "So, what's your final hypothesis?"

"Murder," I replied.