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Dear Melissa,

If you're reading this, I'm dead.

Nah, just kidding. Though I might be. Who knows? A bit like Schrödinger's cat. Whatever. It doesn't matter.

I would ask how you were, but that is pointless. I guess I'll start with who I am. I am... somebody. A guy. Looking for love. (That was a joke, by the way.) No, really, I am a guy. That's irrelevant. I am a theoretical physicist working at Stanford University. I am currently working on the prediction and investigation of the Higgs-Boson particle. (Look it up.) And I am here to warn you.

Don't look out your window. I meant that in a hypothetical sense. Obviously, I'm in the U.S.A, and have no way of reaching your house other than to pay a rather expensive airline ticket. Anyway, I am here to warn you, as I said. There will be people coming after you. Soon. I don't know how soon. It could be next week; it could be next year. But they have come after me, and so it is only a matter of time before they come for you.

How do I know? We are linked together. Historically. We aren't related, but it's something to do with the groups our ancestors were part of, and retaliation, and something or other. I don't really understand it, but that previous feud has come back to bite us on the asses, and ruin our lives, despite the fact that we have nothing to do with it. Fucking ridiculous.

Anyway, I don't want a massive amount of mail to send, so if you can follow these instructions, and make our lives a whole lot easier, and in fact your life a whole lot safer, that would be absolutely fantastic.

Go to HSBC Holdings Bank at the Canary Wharf in London. Enter the front door. When the receptionist asks what you want, tell her your name. She will have very specific instructions on what to do in that situation (you coming up to her). There will be a safety deposit box labelled 2234-C. If she leads you anywhere else or takes you to a different box, get away! This will mean she is compromised and is not trustworthy anymore. She would most likely try to kill you.

Don't worry. It's very unlikely that this would happen. Anyway, that box will have all the info you will probably need, plus some contact information for a woman who will be able to give you even more info.

Stay safe,

Andrew

Sent 02/04/2018

Melissa sat at the table, sipping her daily cup of coffee. Caffeine addictions weren't great, but felt so, so wonderful. Reading online, of course, who read papers these days? Old-fashioned men. Old-fashioned men have a tendency to be racist, and very pointed in their views. So, Melissa avoided the newspapers. The irony of stereotyping a specific group of people and calling them racist wasn't lost on Melissa, but neither was the fact that it was kind of true.

She contemplated whether to wake up her daughter. Anna Mercia, twelve years old, super-genius. School was tough for her. In a different way to anyone else. She was young, obviously, but in a grade about four years higher than the rest of her age group. And it was still too easy for her. She would, most likely, be needed to move up a grade again come the next year. Into year twelve. Melissa sighed. Parents often say their children grow up too fast. It was especially true in Anna's case.

It would never be easy for her. Sure, she had schoolwork, but it was impossible for her to make any friends, students in her grade considering her too young, and students at her age considering her too smart. It was bitter-sweet for her child, but Melissa knew that she would go on to do incredible things. Of course, it wasn't exactly easy on Melissa, either, dealing with the stress that came with Anna's abilities.

Not to mention the sideways glances she received when she said she was twenty-nine with a child in Grade 10.

The two received a lot of prejudice, but it didn't stop Melissa or Anna, both developing thick skins to cope with the emotional strain, allowing themselves the sweet release of emotion at home only. Home and work were the only places Melissa didn't have anyone looking at her funny. Or men, and occasionally women, calling her a slut, a whore, a hooker.

Melissa's workplace was possibly the friendliest environment she'd ever been in. The people were extremely understanding of her home life, and accommodated, allowing Melissa to rise through the ranks and become one of the most respected librarians in her town, with the staff and customers (Melissa always questioned whether this was the correct word. They weren't exactly taking anything permanently) all regarding her as a quiet, mild-mannered woman with a wonderful leadership and management ability.

Melissa was so grateful for the opportunity that she had been provided. Without that career, she would probably be working part-time jobs, which would definitely not be enough to provide for both of them. She cried sometimes, when she knew her daughter was asleep and wouldn't be walking in on her mother in such a state.

She resolved to wait for the postman before waking Anna up. He was a friend of Melissa's, one of the only men she'd met who hadn't treated her like a prostitute or a sex toy. They would always like to stop and have a bit of a chat, and so he left her house till last a lot of the time, allowing them to talk for an unrestricted amount of time. Anna would often tease her mother about this, but Melissa knew it was all in good fun, so she let it slide.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. "I'm coming Eric!" She walked over slowly, the effects of caffeine still yet to kick in. The doorbell continued ringing, and underneath the sound she could hear Eric laughing. "Anna is asleep! Stop!" The ringing ceased almost immediately, and she opened the door. There stood Eric, wearing an off-kilter grin, and holding five letters in his hand. Melissa noted this, but was unsurprised.

"Same guy?"

"Yep."

"Ugh." The letters had started barely a month ago, with just one being delivered to her door. She read it, and threw it away, assuming it to be trash. Two days later, the same letter showed up. Melissa threw it away again, but the number of letters slowly increased, to the point that Eric was delivering her four or five of them every single day. They were all the same, a supposed American scientist named Andrew telling her that her life was in danger.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell someone, Melissa?"

"Yeah. He isn't a stalker, and he seems to live in a different country, so there really isn't much we can do anyway."

"Well, as long as you're sure. I gotta go. I'm needed for something 'important' at work."

"Ouch. Don't get fired!" Melissa said jokingly.

"I'll try not to!" he shouted back. Melissa laughed as she turned and shut the door. She walked back into her kitchen and saw Anna emerging from her room, groggy and topless.

"Mum, do you have my clothes?"

"Yes, they're somewhere in the sitting room." A wicked smile spread on Melissa's face. She snuck over to her daughter, and before she could react, Melissa was on her, tickling the life out of her. "Mum! Mum! Get... Off!" she yelled through the tears. "Uncle! Uncle!"

"Okay, I'll stop. Come on, you'd better get a move on, or school will go on without you."

"It wouldn't dare."

"Don't get cocky." She returned to her table; the pull of caffeine too strong. She could smell the beans, the milk, and it was calling out to her. She got ready to take a big sip.

A bloodcurdling scream shot through the air like an arrow. Melissa had no hesitation. She ran in what was probably a split second to the doorway, before Anna burst through, crashing into her and knocking them both over. As they struggled to regain their senses, Melissa tilted her head towards where Anna had come from.

A man stood in front of an open window, his pistol glinting in the sunlight streaming into the room. He saw the two girls on the ground, and grinned.

Melissa collected herself, gathering enough sense to pick up Anna and crawl through a nearby doorway, screaming all the time. The man saw her moving, quickly raising his gun to shoot twice at Melissa, but missing her. Melissa didn't have the time to rest, scrambling up and sprinting with Anna in her arms to the nearest door, slamming it shut. She sighed a breath of pure relief but realised her perilous situation when he kicked it multiple times, attempting to batter the door down.

She pushed against it, while setting Anna down. Noting her wet arm, she looked down, and screamed even louder. Her arm was bright red, but strangely, there didn't seem to be any evidence of a wound. Eyes widening with realisation, she looked at Anna's arm. There was the wound, on her shoulder, bleeding profusely. Another problem that didn't have an obvious solution.

She shifted a sofa in front of the door and dealt with Anna's predicament. "Anna, oh my god. Anna. Darling, we need something. To apply pressure. To... I..." Melissa was losing it, the sight of her daughters wound too much to bear. The pressure was getting too much. She was going to die, in this house, her and her daughter. Her face started to stain with tears.

It was at times like this that Anna's personality would come in handy. Being an extremely smart girl, and person, comes with consequences. One of these consequences was a lack of human understanding. The ability to communicate and think like others. Usually, it was hampering, but as for that moment, her objective view of things was very important.

"Mum, stop. I'm fine. Yes, it hurts."

"But then-"

"But it only grazed my shoulder, and it looks worse than it is. I won't die. I told you reading those medical books would be useful, right?"

Melissa nodded. It vaguely registered to her that this was backwards, that the mother should be consoling the daughter, not the other way round. But she didn't understand. Who would be coming after her? She didn't do anything! She was innocent, of whatever crimes she was being accused of. But then again, if she was being accused of something, there wouldn't be a man in her house trying to kill her.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"You need to go get him."

Melissa nearly cried, hearing the words her child spoke with such detached interest. It would be a massive task. Bigger than Anna could ever imagine. And it was down to her.

The man had kept kicking the door. He would not be stopped. What could be causing him to act with such determination, seemingly out of the blue from her normal life? She looked around the room and spotted a large window. That would be perfect. Just the right size for her to climb out of the house and go around the back. Although, she could just run away with Anna.

No. Too risky. The chance that he would hear her and come around to investigate was too great. Anna would probably die. She would certainly. She had to do this by herself. She steeled herself - and jumped.

She landed more deftly than expected, landing on both feet and immediately going to the front door of the house. It was the closest entrance to the man that wouldn't cause a loud noise. She opened the door and froze as she heard a creak. But the man continued kicking the door, from what Melissa could tell. She slipped inside, but unlike the time spent on the outside, she moved more quietly in the house, taking care to avoid any floorboards she knew were creaky.

She only increased the speed of her journey when she heard Anna's voice. "That's right, Mum, just keep the pressure on." She was covering for Melissa, making it seem like she was still in the room. Clever girl. Still, incredibly dangerous, and she was now more desperate than ever to find and kill this man.

She reached the kitchen, and sprinted quietly across the tiles to a drawer, containing the sharpest knives in the house. She took out her chef's knife, the largest knife that would still be easily and quickly moved. Completely transfixed by her acquisition of a weapon, she forgot the stealth portion of her mission, and shut the drawer with a loud 'bang!'. "Shit," she muttered to herself, as the banging and kicking on the door immediately ceased, and she hid behind the door of the kitchen, listening to the footsteps increase in volume as he came closer.

He ran into the kitchen, but stopped, his expectation to see her not satisfied. He was rather tall, which gave Melissa an advantage. Running quickly up behind, she stabbed forwards with all of her might.

She missed! Partially. He turned at the last second, meaning the knife plunging towards his heart ended buried in his arm. It was still a hit, and the man shrieked with pain, before hitting Melissa across the face. She stumbled a bit but felt unusual because of it. So her shock tripled when the next fist that the man swung, she caught in her hands.

She was too shocked to think. Luckily, her body seemed to know what to do. She pulled the man towards her, and spun him around, retrieving the knife from his arm. The next move the man pulled was also countered by Melissa. His arm raised up, as he tried to point the gun at her head. However, she struck again with the knife, slashing him across the wrist, forcing him to drop the gun as his nerves ceased function.

She stabbed him with the knife again, forcing him to double over in pain. From there, she grabbed the gun from the ground and shot him in the face.

Blood exploded from the man’s skull as his body collapsed to the ground, her face completely in the firing line of the skull. She felt her body shake, as the gun suddenly felt like a lead weight in her hands. She fell with the gun, landing right in the pool of blood. Her vision was foggy, and before she blacked out, she saw one last thing that connected all the dots.

She saw an envelope.