Chapter 1:

What am I doing in this woman's pantry again? I shouldn't be hiding. What's the police going to do? I listen quietly as the old woman entertains the two police officers with stupid stories, month old biscuits and tea. How long is this woman going to entertain them?

"Clay, my dear! You may come out!" Dressed in the ridiculous attire this woman makes me wear, I swing the door open, making sure it slams into the wall. I stare down at the officers. I ignore their prying eyes and walk towards the old hag.

"Ma'am?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"'Kindly' show these men out." I nod and approach the men. I pass between their chairs and grab the back of their collars. They yell as I drag them out. Their kicking's making it easier. The old woman follows behind me and only walks forwards when I approach the door. She opens it and I toss the men out. The fly down the steps and land against their vehicle.

"Thank you for coming." The damn hag says in a mellow sweet voice.

"This won't thwart any suspension, ma'am. They'll believe you have something to hide." I say as the woman closes the door. She looks at me and stops smiling.

"That's all we can do anymore. My daughter-in-law won't leave me alone. All I've got left is you." I frown.

"What if they come again?"

"Don't let them in. Tell them what they want to know." I nod. I look across the white themed living room towards the window. The blinds are half open—enough for the sun to spill through. The entire house is mostly consistent of white, off white, and snow blue. The accent color really depends on the room. For example, the living room is pink, kitchen is yellow, bathroom is orange, bedrooms are all red.

"You always got something on your mind. You remind me of your mother when she was young. She used to come around a lot. It makes me wonder what happened to your father. When they met, it was a bit rough. And I—" I walk away. I hate it when she talks about my parents. My dad left before I was born. Last month, I was told that he died in an accident. They wanted me to attend the funeral.

"When do you think they're coming back?" The woman doesn't say anything. She just watches me.

"Maybe tomorrow." She finally answers. I sigh and sit down in one of the two arm chairs. I suddenly feel exhausted and ready to sleep.

"You could go home and check on your mother. You—" I immediately stand and start cleaning up the mess the two officers made. The woman laughs. She never told me her actual name. She just wants me to call her "ma'am". I've heard people call her a variety of names. Miss. Clove, Jenna, René, etc., etc. You never know with this woman. I never bothered to ask either.

"What time is it?" The woman asks as if I didn't just shoot up like a cat that accidentally jumped into a puddle. I check my watch.

"15:37." I respond.

"I don't speak Military, kiddo." I sigh.

"3:37." The woman nods and waddles off. I watch her quietly. She's a short, round woman with short white hair so curly that you'd think it's becoming an afro. Her skin is nearly translucent, allowing me to see her veins. She constantly dresses like your typical grandmother going to church in a single color. I turn away. That woman barely reaches my hip. How the hell can she kill an unborn kids still stuck in their shitty mother's womb?

I start washing the tea cups and their little plates. I start preparing snacks for the damn woman. She literally eats a three course meal for everything. I hear a gunshot. I turn and run towards the woman's bedroom with a plate still in hand. I drop to my knees.

Red soaks the bed sheets and carpet. A gun slides out of the old woman's hand and falls on the ground. There's another shot. I stand still. The plate slides out of my hand and falls. Slowly, I reach up and touch my bleeding ear. I'm not dead.

"Damn it!" I yell and run towards the little old-fashioned phone this woman has. I dial for the police. They have barely even spoken when I identify who I am, where I am, what happened, and to hurry the fuck up. I throw the phone aside with the operator still on the phone.

"Ma'am. Ma'am! Please tell me you're not dead! C'mon!" I check the woman's pulse and fall on my knees. I push back and begin to cry. It's not because the damn woman's dead. It's not that I'm now a suspect. It's not because I have any sort of attachment to her. How the hell am I gonna pay the damn bills?

A couple minutes pass by. I hear sirens and loud knocking. I immediately stand up. Within in seconds, I open the door and the police, paramedics, and all sorts of other people file in. Pictures are taken. Body bag, yellow stands with black numbers. Questions. Question after question after question.

Suicide. But why? Why hire a damn bodyguard if you're gonna kill yourself off anyway. The woman's eighty-seven! She should— I jerk away, sending a sharp pain through my ear and head. Damn it!

"Whoa, whoa!" The head detective says and steadies me. I push him away. I don't even look at him as he falls. I storm out the door and into the pouring rain. Just as lightning flashes, I let out a scream drowned by thunder. I fall onto my knees. I pant and start punching the ground.

"You told me you wouldn't do anything stupid!" I yell angrily. Someone places their hand on my shoulder. It's the same person. I look up to a purple colored umbrella with a little white pony on it. The head detective peers down at me. His fingers gently move my hair from my face. His dark eyes stare down into mine. An ugly scar forms over half his face. I pull away.

"You're putting quite a show. Why don't you keep it up?" I stand, immediately towering over the head detective. The detective stumbles back slightly.

"What did you find?" The detective smirks.

"She was stressed and in pain. She felt like a burden to you and just offed herself. What more do you want to know?" I walk off.

"Let them know." I say, getting in my beaten up car, and drive off.