Chapter 4.
You wake up to a screech.
One of your housemates is awake at 7 in the morning, screaming. You groan, hiding your head under the pillows, yesterday completely forgotten for now.
You grudgingly remove your head from under the pillow, sitting up and rubbing your bleary tired eyes. Since you're up already, might as well get up and at em. You grab your shower things, quickly debating on what to wear, before deciding on something more comfortable, the clouds quite dark and heavy. It was sure to rain today.
As you head for the open door of the bathroom you hear your housemate, who you now can identify as Rachel, talking and mumbling to herself about stupid cats and something. The smell of blood instantly assaults your senses, and still having a sensitive morning nose your stomach turnes almost instantly.
"Everything ok Rach?" you ask, trying not to throw up on the spot and congratulating yourself at thefeat of keeping your tone neutral. You're not friends either, none of your housemates are, but you barely see her anyways so you never actually bothered getting to know her too well.
Her head shoots up at you, eyes narrowed in annoyance as she nods.
"Yeah, I think Dusty caught a bird this morning and tore it up to pieces in front of the door step. Almost stepped on it too." she sighed, sniffing then gagging slightly as the scent of blood reached her nose. Dusty, your resident cat, did not usually bring home presents, but you don't put it past him, or Jaques your tabby cat, to bring you a dead rat every once in a while. "Spoiled little brats", you mumble, heading to the bathroom, towel in hand.
It's two hours after, freshly showered and breakfast eaten, that you arrive at work, Cath already waving you over with some papers in hand.
"Morning [Name]." She says, and it's then you notice that the office is very quiet for a Friday. There's a heavy sort of atmosphere lingering, no music blaring, even Rebecca Black stays mysteriously missing from her almost ritualistic fridarian concert over Youtube, courtesy of one of your colleagues. You turn towards Cath, accepting the papers with questioning eyes.
Seemingly understanding the question Cath shakes her head sadly.
"There's... been an accident of some sort. We lost one of our colleagues today." Your eyes widen, yet you manage to inquire about their identity with a hushed voice.
"Roberts, he... we don't really know what happened yet, but it seems he was found this morning, dead so..." she trails of and you nod in understanding, squeezing her shoulder for comfort before taking your seat. Not that you knew Roberts well, since you'd only seen him around the office a couple of times, but still, he was a fellow colleague and any loss, no matter if known or not, was something to be respected and adopt a somber mood (or at least appear as such even if just to not aggravate the friends of the deceased).
The day went past you like a blur, people mourning, some people oblivious, but all you could think about was the mystery from yesterday. You'd woken up this morning feeling tired, but unafraid but now, the previous day rushing back to the forefront of your mind, you wondered what if... what if the figure you'd seen was, indeed, guilty of this murder?
You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts. No, Roberts had had an accident, that was it, Cath had said so, and that figure, you were sure, was nothing to worry about. Least of all, one thing had nothing to do with the other. The figure had given no signs of intent, you knew nothing of it and probably would never see it again. Maybe you'd watched a few too many detective movies at this point and needed to take a break. You eye the book in your bag as if it was to blame before returning to the current document in front of you. Best stop thinking about it before you get paranoid again.
As you finally pack up alongside your peers, Cath having left a bit early today and thus being off duty on time, your eyes drift outside. It's pouring, a welcome change from the ice that had caused so many problems yesterday, and you sigh satisfied. You wouldn't dare walk home in this weather and something in your belly uncoils and relaxes.
You follow the mass outside, sharing "Good weekends" hugs, "Goodbyes" and "See you laters" as you go, bag slung over your shoulder. Someone asks if you'll go to Roseparks tonight, but your eyes droop and your back aches at just the thought. You decline with a smile, informing the guy that you might pop by on Saturday. Your tired muscles almost groan in relief. Finally outside the building you keep up with the mass, not wanting to be left behind or alone. Even the hairs on your neck stand on end, even as you try to engross yourself in a conversation with your desk colleague. You keep getting distracted and she soon gives up, as you shift your eyes nervously along the forest line. You feel like you're being watched, but again, you tell yourself, that can't be right.
As the majority of the people disperse into cars, the opposite way or into their own bus stations you take your usual spot at the bus stop, happy to be early for once, meaning you can retire early and have a head start tomorrow. You sigh in relief as the bus shows and you step in, giving the driver a small wave which he returns with a nod. As you sit, you let your eyes wonder around the forest from behind the relative safety of the glass and surrounded by people. Then you stop and stare. Is that-?
There, standing in between the dark trees as if it belonged is a tall figure you can barely recognize as male, a hoody pulled over his head, a blue, yes, definitely blue, mask or something covering his face. You still can't see his eyes, he's too far away and the street lamp is not bright enough to reach into the pools of ink that the trees cast on the ground, but you can definitely tell that this was the same guy from yesterday, just by his posture and slightly lanky build. You shiver, quickly diverting your eyes to see if anyone else had noticed him and upon finding that no, you were the only one you return your eyes to the same spot only to find that, indeed, he's gone. You rub your eyes, knowing that they're not playing tricks on you, and lean back in the seat, eyes roaming the front of the forest.
You were scared.
Little did you know this was only the beginning.