Fear Me, Dear

The alleyway has a sort of eerie feel to it. I feel as if the graffiti covered brick walls are warning me to turn around and go back home, yet I don't know why. Maybe it's just my brain being effected by the knowledge of what happened here, that's enough to spook anyone. My footsteps seem five times louder than they were on the pavement, each step echoing and bouncing off of the high walls. I almost feel trapped, that if I continue walk down this path I won't be able to find my way out. A simple alleyway, yet it feels as if I have just stepped into a labyrinth. A labyrinth littered with various crisp packets and god knows what. To be honest, I don't care too much about what lays upon the ground of the alley, but rather about what I expect to find once I reach the black clad police officer standing at where the alley turns left.

After what feels like an age later, I finally stop by the police officer. Only now he acknowledges that I too am in the alley, yet his face stays exactly the same. I wonder if the wind changed and his face ended up like the way it is, expressionless, permanently. If so, poor him and everyone who has to interact with him for more than half a day every week.

"Excuse me sir, but this is a crime scene. I must ask you to turn around and leave."

Oh my fucking god, his voice reflects his face. It is monotonous and it sounds like his soul was ripped out of his butthole many years ago, or someone stole his underwear when he was getting changed after swimming. God help the people who have to deal with him, because if I was them I would probably go insane within two days.

"Can I just ask a question or two, please?" I ask.

Upon further inspection, I conclude that the man is rather tall. Okay, maybe a slight understatement. Despite me being just over six feet tall, this man must be at least six and a half feet tall. He kind of reminds me of a lamp post. Standing up on my toes slightly, I peer over his shoulder at the scene behind him. Through all the bodies of police officers and forensic specialists, I can see the crime scene almost perfectly. To my surprise, it is rather clean. There is no blood dripping down the brick wall, and there is only a small pool of drying blood on the cold cobblestone floor. I can see the chalk outline of Suzie's body, which had been moved to a morgue probably, or wherever they take bodies to do autopsy's. I think it's rather clear how she died though, it said on the news that she got stabbed. There we go. End of story. Go home now, but don't forget your coats. Nope, there are no extras after the credits have rolled. No, the knife was not magical, it wasn't enchanted my fairies, I can assure you it was a normal knife. What is weird though, is the outline itself. The arms and legs aren't splayed out like you would usually expect a murder victim's body to be left. Instead, there are no outline of the arms. It looks as if the body was left as if Suzie were sleeping. Weird, oh wait I made up a better word earlier, why am I not using it?

"Sir, please leave." Oh my gosh I am going to go on a killing spree myself if I have to endure his voice any longer.

"Johnson, I'll handle this. Go and help Smith out a moment, will you?"

The voice comes from an incredibly shorter policeman, maybe five foot six. His voice is a lot more tolerable than this Johnson man stood before me, and he has a strong accent...American I think. He and his colleague are like polar opposites, and the difference in height only makes one of many differences. Johnson is pale with his head shaved, where as shortie is tanned with wavy brown hair that reaches just past his shoulders. Johnson's eyes are pale blue and look cold, where as short Mexican looking man's eyes are brown and look warm. Johnson's expression reads 'I'm going to go home, do my taxes, and then watch paint dry' where as short stuff's expression reads 'I'm going to go hug some kittens and socialise with my friends'.

"Whatever you say, Fuentes." For the love of god dude, shut the fuck up before I set your face on fire though I doubt there will be a change in your stupid expression. Thankfully for me, he turns and quickly strides away before I can commit my first murder.

"Sorry about that, Steve isn't exactly a people person." The man, Fuentes, chuckls.

"And I don't think people are a Steve person, either." I mutter, watching Steve continue to walk away. He even walks like a person with no personality, and I don't know how you can walk like that but props to Steve for being able to do it.

"Oh come on, he isn't that bad." Fuentes tells me, laughing as he did so. Wow, this guy is a happy son of a bitch.

"Does he ever hang out or go to clubs, stuff like that?"

"Well...okay, maybe he's a little bit boring."

"He seems like a wet fish."

"What?"

"You know, boring and stuff."

"Oh okay. Anyway, can I help you or are you just having a wonder around?"

"I was wondering if I could ask someone some questions? You know, about what happened to Suzie."

"I'm sorry, but I can't really tell you anything about what happened."

"Please? I went to college with her and I just...I want to know if my friends will be okay. I'm just unnerved by all this, and I'm worried for my friends safety. They're basically my brothers." I watch as his face resembles a loom of pity as the lie slips so easily off of my tongue. It's not that bad though, it's only half a lie as I am actually concerned about my friends. I'm not that bad a person. Fuentes rests a hand on my shoulder and pats it lightly, probably in a sort of comforting manner.

"I understand, but I really can't tell you much. Although I can tell you that I think your friends will be fine, seeing as the victims are all different ages. Just be careful, and make sure none of you go out alone at night."

"Alright, thank you Mr Fuentes." I tell him sincerely, I even manage a smile because this guy isn't half bad and I actually like him, unlike that Steve prick.

"Just call me Vic, now you head on home."

"Okay, bye Vic." Then I turn and walk back the way I came.

"Stay safe kid!" Vic yells after me.

I shout a reply as I continue to walk, but then something crinkles under my foot. I stop walking, and lift my foot to see what I stepped on. On the cobblestone ground is a piece of paper that looks like it was written in a rush and ripped out of a notebook. Leaning down I pick it up and look at it. Upon closer inspection I notice that there are multiple creases through the centre of the severely crinkled paper (which reminds me of my grandmother's skin) and the corners are dog-eared, showing that it must have been looked at a lot then folded carelessly and thrown into the pocket or bag of whoever it belongs to. That's isn't what catches my attention, it's what's written on the paper that intrigues me. '5 by 14th May' is written on the paper in messy, almost illegible, hand writing. Fourteenth of May...that's in two days time. What if...no, could it? Could this possibly have fallen out of the pocket of the murderer? I'll think about this more later, I just need to focus on getting home right now. Shoving the piece of paper into my pocket, I continue on my way home.

* * * * *

"Jeez Josh, you've been gone ages!" Was Matt's greeting when I finally walked through the front door, forty-five minutes after telling Dan I was just going to run into the shop.

"Don't worry Matty B, I'm still alive." I shout in reply as I make my way into the living room, shrugging my coat off on the way and throwing it at Max before sitting down besides Matt on the sofa.

"What took you so long anyway?" Dan asks from where he is stood in the kitchen.

"I bought this." Upon saying this, I pull the chocolate bar I bought out of my pocket and wave it around, quickly moving it out of the way as Matt tries to swipe it from my hand.

"It took you that long just to buy a chocolate bar?" Max asks, raising an eyebrow.

"And to walk back!" I told him in my defense.

"It still shouldn't have taken you that long. What were you actually doing?" Dan asks as he leans against the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed across his chest.

"He went down that alleyway." Chris says, finally joining the 'let's interrogate Josh!' conversation.

"How do you know?" Max questions him.

"I saw him as I skated around again, he walked down the alleyway where Suzie was murdered."

"Are you trying to find out stuff about the murders so you can try and understand the murderer?" Matt asks.

"Okay, maybe I did. I'm not going to get anywhere though." Looking down at my lap, I grab the chocolate bar in my pocket and throw it at Matt's face as he tries to get it again, letting him know that he can have it. An angry mutter of thanks later, and he is already eating it. Crossing my hands in my lap, I sigh quietly in defeat, knowing that I'm not going to get anywhere with this whole thing of trying to figure out the murderer.

"I have a friend who might be able to help." Max tells me, and I instantly look up at him.

"I'm listening."

"We go to college with them and I think they may have some stuff you'll be interested in. I must warn you, they're kind of...weird, and a tad creepy but really nice."

"Really?"

"Sure, I'll give them a call."