Summer

Chapter One

“Arie,” Parker spoke in a grave tone, he smoothed out the newspaper with a dead body on the front page. “The poor family…she was destined to escape here.”

Arie. It meant the lion of God. I closed my eyes and tried to picture her, someone who appears to be fearless and magnificent. I expected her to tempt people once you seen her beauty, just like her name; Lion of God, the feline that captures with her claws.

Her soft hair colored like a thousand lighted bulbs, I'd imagine Arie to have the character of an undiscovered gem, the one to be the welcoming committee for whoever unfortunate enough to crash in Old Roacher: a wide smile for the fellow, her baby blue eyes shining like glittered topaz, and she would hold a basket of fruit with her neat, bubbly handwriting that says, “Welcome to the community!"  That's right; Arie would be that type, the compassionate, loving person that has enough heart to go to South Africa or Thailand just to be involved with the society. 

Of course, still the mystery remains that if everyone in town loves Arie, who had killed her?

It was a curious thing that out of anyone and to die by any method, she was killed by torture. It didn’t fit the picture—she wasn’t raped, she wasn’t mugged, hell, she wasn’t even hardly touched but the deep slashes and the bloodied scratches around her heart was something. Something people couldn’t ignore, like a trademark, and it was a perfect circle, around and around until it was deep enough for her heart to be bare.

Why.

As I created various theories in my head, I failed to notice the trickle of people streaming in, some men grunting about their hunger and some women talking overly loud with their shrill voices, wearing the same type of patterns repeatedly; I enumerated how many times I saw leopard or cheetah print. The number was high.

I saw my dad walk in slowly, a head full of messy hair and his laid back grin aiming towards his friends at the little corner booth. It seems I rarely saw my father with each passing day, the fading memories of sweet kisses a month ago seemed years now. My chest fluttered when I saw a beautiful blonde haired woman with dark lashes and rosy lips strut toward my relaxed dad, who just settled in his seat.

"Coen, my darling! These last few months have treated you fantastically," the stranger spoke with a faint British accent, she went ahead to kiss my father's cheek. The two men in front of Coen started to wolf whistle; the woman blushed deeply as if she isn't use to getting so much attention from others.

My dad looked up to the British gal and smiled sincerely. "Valerie, pleasure to see you again. How's your brother, is he feeling better?"

Valerie smiled, and smoothed her long blonde hair. "It seems Jason is in Italy to find his inner self. Other than being horribly confused, he's gotten better from the attack."

The two friends looked at each other and one of them asked a question, "he was attacked? Wolf attack?"

"God no, my brother hates two things: people and the outside. For the first time in weeks, he decided to eat in a restaurant with his friends near his house. While walking back home, he was suddenly attacked by a stranger." Valerie told the tale with an exasperated tone. "Jason was luckily unharmed with only a few cuts and bruises all over his body, but he'll live."

Immediately the two friends whispered in a heated conversation, my dad however was disinterested and began staring at the decor of The Wonderland.

I continued to look at him, noting how a month could change a person. His hair seems longer; his face was skinner stunningly, it made him look more aristocratic than sickly.