The clock read four AM. The numbers were blinking, however, meaning that the time could be anything. The storm outside her window had knocked out the power, at least four hours ago. She was laying awake in her bed. Her blankets had fallen to the floor, and her eyes were glued to her ceiling, making patterns out of the indented areas. Closing her eyes and sitting up, she pushed back her bangs and let out a reluctant sigh. She spun off the mattress and stood, turning right to the window, watching as the rain slammed the now muddy ground, and the lighting struck in the distance. She then wandered forwards to her desk and picked up her cell phone. She opened it up to read it was 5:34. An hour and a half long black out, she thought, looking outside once again. “No point in going back to sleep now,” she said allowed.

She made her way to the light switch- tripping over a pile of dishes on the way- and flipped it on. She turned around again and faced her bed. What she saw made the hairs on her neck stand up. Her eyes widened and her teeth took a strong grip on the inside of her lip.

On her bed was sitting a young boy, with blonde hair, in an old fashioned plaid flannel shirt and overalls. He was watching his feet as they swung forwards and back. She stepped closer towards him slowly, and reached out a hand, about to place it on his shoulder. Before she could, he lifted up his head. A grin splattered across his face, with blood trickling down his cheeks as if they were tears, his eyes were mere sockets. He opened his mouth and spoke.

“...Would you like to play?”

-  -  -

“There’s no sign of a break-in,” the officer said, scratching the back of his head.

Jacqueline watched as a few dandruff flakes fell from his fingers. She closed her eyes as she saw the black body bag being carried from the front door, choking back her tears. The grass was still wet from the night before. It was still early morning. The sky was a gloomy grey, and the moisture hung in the air, making standing outside uncomfortable. When she heard the sirens grow quiet, she reopened her eyes. “So you’re telling me that my best friend, my room-mate, my practical sister was killed by someone who let himself in with the spare key?” Her voice rose without her realizing. Her eyes wandered to the side. She felt bad for taking her feelings out on this perfect stranger, who was trying to help her.

“I understand this is hard for you, ma’am... but we’re doing all we can do in this situation. Every window is intact, you’ve assured me every door was locked.” He pulled up his belt and turned to the two storey high house.

“I know... I’m sorry, sir... I didn’t mean to get upset. I just don’t understand who could have killed her.” Jacqueline pulled back her brunette bangs, tapping her foot.

“As hard as it is to think about, often in cases like this, the first suspect, often proven guilty, is the victim’s husband or boyfriend,” he flipped open his pocket book, preparing to write down Jacqueline’s reaction.

“No, no, no. That’s not possible. Derek would never. He treats--” She pulled back before biting her lip and correcting herself. “He treated her like a goddess...”

The officer held his hands up and shrugged, curling his wrists in an unsure rejection. “Actually, statistics show that a lot of men who treat their girlfriends like that in front of others are a lot different behind closed doors.”

Jacqueline stayed silent. She went over the idea and accepted that it was possible. She shook her head and bit her lip. “Alright. I’ll give you his address.”