Chapter 7: Unusual Things Are Happening

Craig

Craig is lying in bed that Sunday afternoon, feeling very bored. He is still in his pajamas - a dark blue two-piece with small red race cars on both the shirt and pants, having long since done his morning routine, but didn't bother to put on any casual clothes. His amber eyes have been transfixed on his ceiling for at least an hour now, his hands are behind his head of black hair, and his right leg is crossed over his other leg.

"Wish I had a t.v in here," he thinks with a sigh. He turns over on his left side. On top of his nightstand are an animal cage, a lamp, an alarm clock, and the Play-doh figurine him and Tweek made of his pet guinea pig. A squeak comes from within the plastic cage, making Craig smile when he sees a brown and white guinea pig scurry towards him. "Hey, Stripe. I see you're done running on the wheel," he comments mirthfully. Stripe responds by wiggling its little pink nose against the see-through wall. Chuckling, Craig sits up, scoots towards the edge of his bed, and reaches into his best friend's cage. Gently with both hands, he takes Stripe out of it. The little animal starts squeaking as if it's happy to finally be out of its cage. Craig brings Stripe up to his cheek, its whiskers tickling him and making him laugh. He lightly nuzzles against Stripe's soft pelage. "At least you had something to do, leaving me to almost die of boredom," he says with a pout. He lowers Stripe onto his lap and starts caressing its back. The silence that permeates the room is comfortable, sometimes being broken by Stripe's purring, enjoying Craig stroking its back.

Craig's parents bought Stripe for him on his fourth birthday. The cute guinea pig was an amazing gift. Whenever he didn't or couldn't go over a friend's house, Stripe would always be there to keep him company, and as a result, he endowed his pet the title of being his best friend. It wasn't too hard to take care of Stripe, his parents purchased the animal supplies while Craig singlehandedly took the role of looking after it.

The young noirette stares dully across his room, really wishing he had a television in here instead of just a dresser and a few board games. "Oh, maybe I can go over a friend's house." Craig stops petting Stripe and looks down at it. "Whose house do you wanna go over, Clyde's or Tweek's?" Stripe doesn't respond. Craig picks his little best friend up to look it in its beady black eyes. Neither blink nor make a sound, it's as if they suddenly started to communicate by looking into each other's eyes. Craig can't help but begin to notice that there's something...odd about Stripe's eyes, however he can't describe it. What's even weirder is that this isn't the first time he's stared directly into Stripe's eyes, even then, he never acquired this strange feeling before. Abruptly, Stripe squeaks, startling Craig back to his senses. He finally blinks, confused for a moment until he registers what had just happened. "Am...I that bored that I'm starting to see things now?" He questions himself. "Well, whatever," he thinks shrugging off his bewilderment. He lowers Stripe from eye level. "I guess I'll go over to Clyde's house since he lives the closest." He leans and reaches over towards the guinea pig's cage, carefully setting Stripe back down onto a white bedding made of soft paper fiber. "Sorry for spacing out all of sudden," he apologizes to his animal friend. "I'm gonna ask one of my parents to take me over to Clyde's house. You wanna come with me?" Stripe merely twitches its nose and scampers back to its running wheel. Craig playfully rolls his eyes. "I guess that's a no then." He looks into Stripe's cage; since his furry friend loves to occupy itself on the running wheel, he assumes its water and food bowls are empty. However, he's only partially correct. Only Stripe's blue water bowl is empty while its red food bowl appears untouched. He gets out of bed, standing on his tiptoes to grab the blue bowl from out of the cage. "I'll get you some more water."

The little noirette leaves his room and goes downstairs. He sees his mother and 3 year old sister, Tricia, occupying the middle of the sofa in the living room, his mother watching t.v while his baby sister is fast asleep on her lap. He waits until he's in the living room to quietly ask, "Mom, is it okay if I can over Clyde's house?"

The blonde-haired woman averts her midnight blue eyes from the television to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "In your pajamas?" She jokes.

Craig lightly smacks his forehead with his free hand. "No, I meant after I refill Stripe's water bowl and put on some clothes."

His mother giggles at his response, looking back at the television. "Yes, I know. I was only joking. Call his parents first to check if you can go over there."

"Okay." Craig then walks towards the kitchen. He first sets the bowl down on the countertop by the sink, then goes to get a chair from the dining room table to help him reach the faucet. Placing the chair in front of the sink, he climbs up onto its cushion, grabs the bowl with one hand and twists one of the knobs with his other hand, filling the blue plastic container with cold water. He lets the water fill the bowl halfway to its brim, then cuts off the water flow. Gently putting the bowl back on the counter, he hops down from the chair and returns it underneath the dining table. Just when he retrieves Stripe's water bowl, he hears his mother gasp in shock. He stops in his tracks within the living room. "What's wrong?" He asks, but his mother doesn't give him an answer, her gaze focused intently on the television screen.

"We're here today with late-breaking news," a news reporter, Tom Thompson, announces grimly. "Before I go into detail, I must let it be known that the information could be...very disturbing, so if there are any children around, then it's best they go to their rooms until this segment ends."

With haste, Craig's mother carefully lifts her daughter up from her lap, then stands up carrying her child in her arms. She turns to Craig. "You heard the man," she says. Craig frowns, but doesn't object. The three of them ascend the stairs, Craig going to his room while his mother and baby sister go into another room.

"I wonder what happened," Craig murmurs as he closes the door. He goes over to Stripe's cage. "Here ya go, Lil' buddy." Craig puts the water bowl back in its original spot, next to Stripe's food bowl. Craig watches Stripe crawl over to its water bowl, completely ignoring its food. He frowns. "Stripe's been ignoring his food lately. He only drinks water now for some reason." He knows that nothing is wrong with the choice of food, a pet shop employee told his parents which foods and snacks are appropriate to feed guinea pigs. "I hope he's not getting sick." The possibility concerns him even more. He turns away from the cage, walking back to his bedroom door only to come to a stop. "Oh yeah, the news is gonna talk about some stuff kids can't hear, so I can't leave yet to call Clyde's house." Craig groans in disappointment, however he gets an idea. One that can either leave him scarred or into serious trouble.

"Just a peek wouldn't hurt," the boy concludes with a childish grin.

As discreetly as he can, Craig exits his room and tiptoes towards the staircase. He stops a couple of centimeters away from the edge leading down to the first step, gets down on his knees, and peeks his head out from behind the wall. He sees his father sitting next to his mother on the couch, the television's volume had been turned down. "I can't hear..." Craig inches forward a little more, making sure he isn't visible in case his parents happen to look back. Moving up a smidgen proved somewhat beneficial, Craig is now able to only vaguely hear what is being said on the television.

"A man was brutally murdered a few hours ago this morning," Craig hears the brown-haired news reporter inform the viewers. "It occurred at Liane Cartman's house...both her and the victim were naked when the police arrived. Liane was the one who called and reported the incident, but this was twenty minutes ago. When she was asked what happened, she was too distraught by the sudden outcome of...her partner to give an answer. We have Rick Watts with Officer Peterson at the crime scene. We will have them provide further details. To you, Rick."

The scene changes to the black-haired news correspondent and a man with grey hair and brown eyes, both men standing in front of the Cartman's household. Yellow police tape blocked the middle half of the front door - no one but officers and investigators are permitted to enter the house. An ambulance is parked by the sidewalk, four paramedics are seen hauling the deceased victim out of camera shot on a stretcher, a white blanket heavily stained with blood concealing the corpse. Liane is stood by the ambulance covered in a brown blanket with a paramedic by her side, keeping her shaking form steady.

"Thank you, Tom," Rick says with a nod, then he turns to the grey-haired man. "Alright, Officer Peterson, what can you tell us?" He holds the microphone out towards the man, his lips a thin line.

"Well, for starters...the perpetrator must've had a huge grudge against the victim to nearly hack the guy to pieces. The bedroom was a bloody mess. The victim's name was Tony Maywell. We found out that he was a frequent customer of Ms. Cartman, who works in the prostitution industry. A box was in the room containing various toys and other items used for foreplay. Sadly, we haven't found any evidence. Not even the murder weapon. Ms. Cartman has yet to tell us who stormed in and slaughtered the man. I'm under the assumption that the killer could be the victim's girlfriend or ex."

"Oh my goodness..." Laura utters behind her hand while Thomas shakes his head with a grim frown. Craig appears repulsed by the news.

Rick pulls the microphone back to his lips. "I see...but what makes you think it was his girlfriend or ex? Do you have any evidence on that?" He holds out the microphone towards Officer Peterson again, but before he responds, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a ziplock bag containing a black wallet.

"Yes, I do," Officer Peterson answers as he unzips the bag. "Here in this wallet of Mr. Maywell's is a picture containing the possibility that his girlfriend or ex killed him." He takes the wallet out and opens it, extracting a small picture. He turns the photograph towards the camera, and the cameraman zooms in on the photograph. "Her name is unknown, but she looks to be no older than thirty. We'll have the investigators identify who she is to Mr. Maywell later," Officer Peterson explains. The picture shows a pale-skinned woman with long, black hair and light blue eyes - only her top half, which is a black shirt, is visible in the small frame. Her face is lackluster as she faces the camera that took her picture. It's as if she had nothing to smile about in her life.

Rick hovers the microphone back towards himself, and the camera zooms out of the photo. "Okay, so chances are high that she could be the killer in this case. But if so, then how come there's no evidence?" He asks. He faces the microphone back towards Officer Peterson.

The man stiffens at his question, but quickly composes himself, stuffing the photo back into the wallet, then returning the wallet into the ziplock bag afterwards. As he silently beckons for an officer to take the bag away, Rick retracts the microphone away from him, thinking he's not ready to speak yet. There's another few seconds of silence until Officer Peterson practically whispers, "I don't know."

Rick knits his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, what was that?" He hovers the microphone over to the officer.

"I said I don't know. When the investigators examined the doorknobs and other objects the killer could've touched, they found nothing. Like I stated a minute ago, we found no murder weapon, and on top of that, Ms. Cartman's son has gone missing."

Rick frowns as he holds the microphone back towards his lips. "I see...well, that isn't good. Do you think it's possible that the culprit formed this out somehow, even going so far as to abduct Ms. Cartman's son? Perhaps they plan to use him for ransom."

Before Officer Peterson can respond, one of his co-workers, Officer Barbrady, taps his shoulder for his attention. He turns around and they start to whisper to one another. After a minute of conversing in hush, Officer Barbrady nods, then walks away. Officer Peterson faces Rick. "Sorry, but we have to take Ms. Cartman to the hospital, then to the police station for further questioning. Well, after she puts some clothes on first."

Rick nods his head in understanding. "Okay, thank you for your time." Officer Peterson returns the gesture, then walks away. The cameraman focuses on Rick. "Well, that's all we have for today. It seems this case will not be an easy one to crack. We will come back when we have an update on the matter. Back to you, Tom."

Craig blinks when the television shuts off. He stands up at the exact moment his parents get up from the sofa, and he hides himself behind the wall. "I feel so sorry for Liane," his mother says, equally troubled and worried. "You don't think her son was really kidnapped, do you?" She asks her husband.

The redhead sighs. "He most likely could've been. This isn't an ordinary killer we're dealin' with..."

Craig quietly hurries back to his room, closing the door as gently as he can. He goes over to his bed. Unlike what Mr. Thompson said, Craig isn't too disturbed by the news, just disgusted and a bit scared because not only did the murder happen very recently, but the police found no evidence on the killer nor where they could be. Craig crawls onto his bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Slouching forward, he places his elbows on his knees, then his cheeks onto the palms of his hands. "Sucks Eric got taken away..." Even though Craig didn't know the chubby boy all that well, it's very unfortunate that something like that happened to him in the first place. Craig feels greatly sorry for both Eric and the boy's mother. He starts moving his feet, seeing that Stripe is asleep in between its water and food bowls. He chuckles, a small smile on his face.

Throughout the remainder of the day, Craig kept his eavesdropping a secret, not particularly ready for school tomorrow.