by Blue Lightning

Created on: April 29, 2008

Tuesday, September 4th, 1997.
3:06A.M.

That was when it all began.

The screams, the cries, everything.

I was sound asleep and jolted awake when it happened. I was tired as heck, but awake enough not to go to sleep again. I silently assumed that the adrenaline and racing thoughts were the case, so I decided to watch the news for a bit or at least until my eyes could take it no longer.

I recognized the reporter right away, but my mind kept me from caring any. I listened closely, a blank, empty stare painted on my face.

"Welcome back to Channel 7 News, I'm Allison Freeman. We were just recently informed of a tragic murder on the corner of 5th and 6th Street. Officials state that they knew the victim to be Victoria Stether, a 23-year-old hypnotherapist who had just arrived from Indiana to visit her husband and two kids after college. From what we could tell, she was shot six times in the stomach and two more times in the back after arriving home. The husband, Michael Stether, clearly stated that he had been hiding the kids when the incident took place. They were unharmed, but the house shows many signs of damage, which tells us that the suspect had attempted to get inside. We could not tell why the suspect had done this, nor do we know his name. We will continue to investigate, though, and keep everyone updated. Please stay safe, and if you see this suspect, report back immediately."

Yawning, I switched the TV off and laid back, and there was absolutely no waking me.

The next morning, I couldn't help thinking that the name Victoria Stether sounded eerily familiar. Questions raced through my mind like chickens with their heads cut off. I stared blankly at the ceiling, determined to figure this thing out.

'Hmm... Victoria...' I thought. 'It all seems weirdly familiar. Could she be someone I know? No, couldn't be. But her blonde hair reminds me of someone; someone I've met before. But how could she be at home one minute and possibly raped the next? That's it. If I don't find out more about this girl, I'll be going crazy for the rest of my life.'

With that, I slithered out of the covers, got dressed, and headed out.

All I heard on my way to the crime scene was indistinct mumbling about what had happened. Reporters were everywhere; they seemed to be going crazy, just like I could have before drifting off. Though my windows were closed, I could still make out some of the phrases.

"Hey! Did you know a girl was murdered last night?"
"Yeah, I saw the whole thing on the news with no sleep!"
"Victoria, eh?"
"Yup. That hypnotherapist really had it comin'."

Anger spread through me. How could they act so mean? Victoria hadn't even done anything! Did she...?

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