Whispers Of Spilt Blood

Chapter 1

(Rewritten)

There's a feared day that may come when a person we've known our whole lives, trusted with our secrets and have even loved, may turn out to be someone entirely different.

This is a day that has come too soon.

It's come in the form of flashing blue and red lights, shrill sirens, and sporadic shouts. It's come with a dreamlike quality which is lent to the suffocating air. It's come with an urge to grasp onto irrational thoughts. Thoughts, hopes, that the scene in front of you has to be a dream.

For how can everything have been so normal a mere few hours ago. Only to fall to pieces in a matter of seconds.

How could I have known that a chilling evening news report could soon be a frightening reality...

"Tragedy has struck yet again this evening as another murder is uncovered in Indianapolis. The police have not yet disclosed the name of the deceased. A suspect was arrested earlier this evening. The man is currently in custody and has confessed. He will be arraigned before 1st District court on Monday.The chance of a death penalty has been brought to the attention of the press. With many debates over the issue of the death penalty, this homicide and the trial stemming from it will only further aid in dividing the two sides."

The news reporter's voice drifts over to where I'm making popcorn. Frowning, I cross the cool kitchen tiles and slide onto the plush living room carpet. Grabbing the TV's remote control, I turn up the volume as the woman continues her evening announcements.

"This has brought this month's tolls alone up to thirty murders, a record for the state of Indiana. Experts say that the entire US has experienced a 19% rise in homicides. However, while police advise people to be cautious, they stress that the situation is under control."

Shaking my head, I turn off the TV lost in my thoughts.

"Reagan!"

I startle at the voice and drop the remote. Grumbling under my breath, I pick it up checking to make sure it hasn't broken, before setting it on the glass coffee table.

"What, Rick?" I yell, slightly irritated.

I hear Rick's footsteps coming from the second floor and he stops at the top of the glossy wooden stairs. He walks down to where I stand before taking off his wire thin glasses and rubbing his temples.

"What's that smell?" He wrinkles his nose, a look of disgust in his warm, honey colored eyes. Eyes which are identical to my own. I stiffen as I smell the air.

"Crap!" Running over to the kitchen, I yank open the microwave and I catch a whiff of burnt popcorn.

Pinching the top of the bag between my fingers, I dump it in the trash. I go to the pantry, ready to make another bag when my phone rings.

"Can you make the popcorn?" Rick rolls his eyes but proceeds to reach into the pantry and take out the popcorn. Unraveling the plastic wrap from around the bag, he pops it in the microwave. I pick my phone up from the counter.

Perching on one of the stools next to the counter, I glance briefly at the unknown caller ID before answering the call.

"Hello?" Static greets me on the other end of the line and then silence. I frown.

"Hello?" I try again, but the silence only continues.

Shrugging, I hit the end button. I place my phone on the counter, then clap my hands. Rick startles slightly at the sudden sharp noise, before gesturing to my phone.