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We talked about Naminé last night. I learned what she liked, what she hated, and what her hobbies were. It turns out she is an artist who spends her free time painting, writing beautiful, dark poetry, and playing the flute. She was perfect.

What really disappointed me was the fact that she was crushing on somebody else; Zexion. Zexion was alright; he was mostly a loner and kept to himself. I guess it was that mysterious, dark vibe that he gave off that attracted her to him. He was in my English class, pretty smart guy. Way better than me. God, she is so out of my league.

Roxas began questioning my interest in knowing things about Naminé and I just told him that she seemed very mysterious and quiet and I wanted to know what she was really like. He bought it.

My mother texted me when she got home last night. She said everything seemed normal; the windows were locked as well as the front door. There were no signs of any intrusion so she slept there overnight. I was just glad that she texted me good morning, unless the murderer texted me instead. I began to get very anxious and called her. Sure enough, it was her. I could hear her washing the dishes and I immediately calmed down. She told me to make sure I was ready for school and if I needed anything from home she'd be happy to bring it to me.

I fed Roger and gave him cuddles. I remember the day I received him as a Christmas gift when I was five years old; his floppy ears had blue bows on them. I remember bawling my eyes out because I was so happy. Since then he has been my best friend. He has aged over the years and has trouble getting around sometimes but he is still my cuddle buddy.

My mom ended up stopping by to bring my school clothes and textbooks. She even picked up Roger and brought him home before going into work. She left an hour earlier this morning which was unusual but I was happy that I was able to get ready before school started.

Roxas drove us to school and I could not focus at all. I was worried that whoever was in our house was watching me right now. I wondered if he was listening to my phone conversation yesterday. I wondered if he had installed a tracking system somewhere so he could follow me.

During lunch today, I had a panic attack. I couldn't breathe, my chest felt so tight, and I could not stop shaking. I had no clue what came over me; I just felt like something went terribly wrong and it would not go away. I couldn't wait to get home to see if everything was alright.

The stress caused my brain to feel like it was on fire but I managed to pull through my day. I pushed through because I knew once fourth period came around I would get to see her.

And once it did come around, I was completely relieved. I greeted her and she gave off that adorable, sweet smile. All those thoughts of wanting to get home disappeared completely. She was in my art class and I knew exactly what I was going to say. I had been planning it all day practically. I sat next to her as we began to tear up pieces of magazine to paste into our hand-drawn side portraits of ourselves. I told her that her drawing of herself was amazing and that she was really talented. She just laughed nervously and smiled, thanking me for the compliment.

Most of the class I just stared at her from the corner of my eye, seeing how beautiful she looked in her baby blue summer dress. It complimented her eyes perfectly. When she passed me the pair of scissors, our hands touched and my heart quickened. I wanted that touch to last a lot longer than it did.

Even though we barely had any conversation, it was a beautiful thing to be in her presence. My mind had completely forgotten of the situation at home and I felt peaceful and safe with her. If only I could just stay with her forever.

The phone in the art room had rung and somehow I knew that it was for me. I even began to clean up my mess when Naminé asked where I was going. I paused for a moment and the teacher told me that I was getting dismissed. I took this opportunity to appear mysterious as I knew she was into that type.

"I've got a mission to carry out." I put my portrait away in my art drawer. "See you around." She gave me a smile which I returned and I left the class. The further I got from Naminé the more intense the feelings of paranoia came. I knew something bad happened or was going to happen. I couldn't shake the feeling.

I met my mother in the office. She looked like a mess but composed herself to appear normal. As we left the school building she stayed eerily quiet.

We got into the car and she didn't start it up. Her eyes were shiny in wetness. Her black hair that was usually in a bun was falling out of place.

"Xion," she began with a shaky voice. I was about ready to cry just from seeing her in this state. "I am so sorry."

"What?" I demanded. What happened? What had that intruder done to our house?

That's when she lost it and began to cry, laying her head on the steering wheel. I was desperate.

"Tell me!"

She grabbed some tissues and tried to compose herself. She inhaled deeply, but could not look me in the eye.

"I'm so sorry," she said again, wiping a tear from her eye. "When I left his house this morning-" Her voice cracked and she sniveled. "I brought Roger home and gave him a few treats before I left to check the mail." My heart sank and I prepared myself for the worst. "When I came back-" she began to cry again, unable to keep herself stable.

"No." I wasn't going to believe it. "No, no, no tell me it didn't happen!"

She shook her head.

"I found Roger in the backyard…" her brittle voice cracked again. "Blood everywhere…"

"You what?" I screamed. I punched the dashboard tons of times. I felt no pain.

"This is what I found." Her shaky hands reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone. She showed me something that I'll never, ever forget. I was on the verge of completely losing my mind. The picture was of Roger's tail, nailed to a tree with his collar hanging from the nail. I opened the door and threw up on the pavement. I ran from the car, my mother screaming at me to come back. I didn't look back. I ran down the parking lot, passed all the cars. I didn't know where to go or what to do.

I fell to my knees on the pavement, feeling the burn and throbbing pain. I screamed. Not from the pain in my knees but from the knowledge that my best friend had been murdered. I couldn't breathe; I couldn't hear anything except for my screams. Staff from the school came running towards me as well as resource officers. My mother came running over and held me tightly.

Someone suggested that my mother take me to a mental hospital because I was disturbing everyone in the school. My mother picked me up, bridal style and walked back to the car like the badass she is. She sat down in the back of the car, stroking my hair and crying with me.

We must have been there for hours because the bell rang when school ended and we were still there. She couldn't move and I didn't want her to let go of me. When I slightly calmed down she told me that our house was being thoroughly investigated and that we couldn't enter. She said that we had to go to the police station because our lives were being threatened. She let go of me and drove to the station.

We couldn't go anywhere without a police escort and I spent my time lying on one of the couches, curled up in a blanket beside my mother. I threw up a few more times but I finally fell asleep.

The police told my mother that the FBI was handling the case and that they had found a crawlspace that connected to our basement and the other houses in the development. Apparently these homes were built quickly and the crawlspaces were never properly sealed. The tunnels came from the newer homes that nobody had lived in yet and connected to ours.

To explain it in simpler terms, people were going into these new homes that were not locked, went into the crawl space and fucked with us. They had crossed the line. I was about ready to just walk into that goddamn house and shoot that son of a bitch. He deserves Hell. He doesn't deserve to still be living.

The police also said that the FBI had found satanic crosses drawn on all our windows in blood. There were pictures of our family strung around the porch with our faces cut out of them. They had searched the crawlspace and found that it had streaks of what appeared to be blood, along with puddles of the crimson. However, what they couldn't find was any D.N.A; this fucker was good at what he did. He left behind no shoe prints, no finger prints, hair, blood of his own or anything. It was nearly impossible to track him. The police even said that this was the most bizarre case that they had seen.

My fucking life was a mess. My friends called me a bunch of times and I rejected their calls. Even Naminé sent me a text; apparently she got my number from Roxas. I didn't even reply to her. I was too shocked to function properly. So was my mother. It was suggested that we go to a mental hospital but my mother refused. I too, didn't want to go because I'd feel too useless. Roger's death needed to be avenged and I was going to do it. I was going to torture that son of a bitch. I'd find him and I'd stab his fucking heart. I'd rip his limbs off of his body. That fucker was going to see Hell soon.

My mother decided that we were going to stay at her mother's house which was a few towns away. We were police escorted there. The entire time we were there, an officer was outside, making sure that we were safe. We still weren't allowed to leave without an escort which made me upset because I needed to find this son of a bitch and kill him.

I even wrote out plans to do it in the most sadistic way possible.

Soon, my plans would be taken into action. That fucker wouldn't know what hit him.

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