7 days.

Prologue.

"Darling, would you please turn on the TV?" Said the black-hair woman, as she got a glass of wine from a wooden cabinet in the kitchen. She poured wine in it, and looked down. She sighed, and looked at her necklace, tucking it in her shirt.

Tock.

The woman stopped, static, what she was doing. She heard it. She shook her head. Maybe it was just a bird.

ONE WEEK LATER.

"And back to you, John!" said the weather man from the news. I took a sip from my water bottle and looked for the control remote to change the channel, that is, when John Foster, the news anchor, said something that caught my attention.

"Yesterday morning, Michelle Oscars, mother of two, was found dead in her house, with her necklace missing," he said, "Now, the necklace was hand-made, and is very important to the case. The FBI said that whoever has information about who may have it, please do not hesitate to call the emergency hotline," he finishes. Then, a picture of the necklace is shown.

Shit.

I quickly stood up from the couch and walked to the kitchen counter where I put all the mail that I already checked. I spread all the letters to find the right one. There it was, a pink envelop, with a white paper inside.

I turn the envelop upside down, and shake it until a small necklace falls down. The same necklace that was in the news, was right on my hands.

I grab the paper, and trying to read anxiously, as my hands didnt stop shaking, I realized I was in more trouble than what I thought was some secret admirer.

The house was tiny,

As white as snow.

The older one had something shiny,

It was on her neck- hanging low.

Accidentally, I hit my knee,

Oh, fuck no.

You have seven days, Blossom.