Prologue

Siren lights illuminate her face as she stares emotionlessly at the ground. Her hair is practically glued to her head from the light rain falling down and dried blood is stained at the tips. She holds the blanket that the paramedics provided tightly around her body, trying to ease the chills. Her hands touch, and she flinches. How could she forget it was on her hands too? It was everywhere.

"Ma'am," She looks up at a paramedic, a young woman who can't be older than 30, "I have to check for any injuries. What's your name?"

She stares for a minute, and the paramedic almost asks again, but the sentence finally registered as she answers, "W-Wendy. I'm Wendy,"

"Alright Wendy, this'll just be standard—"

"What happened?" Her voice is a whisper, but she meant to say the words with power—loud and clear. Wendy did not want to show how terrified she was. She did not want them to suspect that she saw the killer. That she heard him growl her name with fierce emotion before running past her. It was only after he was gone that the moment settled in her head, becoming a permanent memory. She wishes that she could forget it, but her body refuses to let her as the goosebumps continue to rise.

The paramedic's eyes softened as she gave a sad smile, "Let's focus on making sure you are okay first, deal?" Her words were meant to be comforting. Wendy knew that, but it only made her stomach turn as she forced a smile, nodding once as an answer.

Her father's killer walks free. And she is next in line.

-

"Where do you believe it all began?" She asks.

Once again, Wendy casually answers with, "I can't remember." She tugs on her necklace, running her fingers up and down the design, and feeling her heart pull in return as she thinks about her father. The necklace was one he wore up until his death. Her mother said that he wanted her to have it. A sterling silver necklace with a shield pendant. There was a knife from top to bottom of the shield, piercing through the heart in the middle.

She slowly drops the clipboard on her lap, putting the pen on top whilst looking at Wendy. The couch was no longer comfortable as she shifted in her seat a bit. "Wendy, I can only help you dissect the information if you meet me halfway,"

Wendy sighs, closing her eyes and trying to force back the tears that threaten to fall, "I want to forget. Talking about it makes it real," She glanced down at her lap, twiddling her thumbs before letting out a shaky breath. She holds her palms open toward her, "It was everywhere," Wendy whispers, and her therapist does not press any further. "I walked in. And—and he was in the kitchen. I heard the music. The sound of boiling water. But the lights were off. I should've known something was wrong when I saw the lights were off," Wendy sobs as she tries to speak the last sentence, but it is intangible.

"Wendy..." Her therapist trailed off, "no one would have expected you to know what you were walking into. It's not your fault," Wendy doesn't speak, just grabs a tissue and takes deep breaths to stop herself from crying. "Have you talked to your mother recently?" This was a redundant question as she already knew the answer. Dr. Evelyn Knight is her full name—a close college friend of Wendy's mother. Wendy knew that what they discussed would stay private, so long as she was not a danger to herself or others, but it was difficult to lie about little things such as this.

She keeps her head down as she shakes it, crumbling the tissue in her hand, "I'm still upset with her for sending me off to college. As if I am going to be able to concentrate on schoolwork, ya know? I just feel so alone in this,"

"Wendy, you are never truly alone," Wendy glances up at Dr. Evelyn, noticing her sly smile, "What about that cute guy who is attached to your hip? He always picks you up from here? Clay, I think?" The tone in her voice caused Wendy to roll her eyes at the insinuation. This is the exact reason why she will not allow him to pick her up anymore.

"Oh, please. He is my friend, but he doesn't understand how it feels to be going through this. My mother would..." Her voice gets softer toward the end, wishing that her mother would not push her away during a time when they need to stick together.

"I understand. Maybe you should try to call her after our session. I think you should be discussing some of this with her," Wendy simply nods at the suggestion, but does not know whether or not she will actually take it. She stares at Wendy for a moment, as if she expected her to say more, but she had nothing left to say. "Okay, great." Dr. Evelyn gave her a warm smile, but Wendy responded with a forced one. She couldn't help but let her mind race about the one who was trying to kill her...and why. "I guess I'll see you back here Monday, same time."

Most of their sessions consisted of talking about normal, everyday stressors or her goals for life after college. It is rare that they approach the main reason why she started attending therapy, and Wendy thinks that is on purpose. Like Dr. Evelyn believes maybe if she is comfortable, she'll be more complacent about expressing her nightmares. Little does she know, Wendy doesn't ever plan on revealing the most bone-chilling detail. The one that could potentially save her life or end it sooner.

Wendy nodded once, keeping her closed-mouth smile before standing and walking out of the room, bracing herself to walk out into the world where the killer roams free. 

A/N:

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