Beyond the Screams ✔

Chapter Two

Three Months Later.

The last couple of months had been hectic, the demand for music had gotten higher, Mr McPherson said that it would 'raise morale' and would benefit London to have some more music in the air. I was rushing towards the studio office where my manager and closest friend Emily and I worked. While there were always other musicians and aspiring singers in the building, ever since the depression had begun more and more people were trying to get a record deal. Emily and I seemed to be in the building the most, writing and recording the new songs, which were doing exactly what Mr McPherson wanted us to do, Raise moral. A small hat was lying on top of my red curls, I was wearing a long, black, collared dress, ending around my knees. My hands were covered in short, black lace gloves and as usual, I was wearing a pair of high heels, thankfully, though, these were much smaller and much easier to walk in.

Finally, a huge two storey building came into my sight, A huge sign reading 'McPherson Music' flashed in my vision. The building was decorated with large windows, it was a classic brown brick but looked red under the suns harsh rays. I pushed open the door and was immediately met with a huge onslaught of people. All I could hear was prices flying out of agents mouths and forty different types of music playing over each other on broken, old record players. As soon as the door opened everyone looked towards me, the room fell silent, the mountains of music becoming quieter and quieter until it stopped with a static halt. I scanned over the room, I shrunk under their gaze. I quickly hurried out of the lobby, heading into one of the back rooms. The back rooms were full of the musicians that recorded and worked here. I didn't bother to check if they were staring at me too, But based on the quiet, usually loud, atmosphere I was able to make a pretty logical guess.

I picked up the pace, beginning to walk faster and out of their sight. I turned a corner and walked up to the stairs onto the second floor. While none of the musicians, (like myself) has offices, some of the main agents of the company do, which is why I was heading upstairs. On the second floor was Mr McPherson's office and, of course, the agents. Thankfully it was just a hallway with large doors connecting to offices. I walked down to the end and knocked on the door. I heard a miserable 'come in'. I pushed open the door to see Emily slouching in her chair. Her brown eyes were red and puffy, signalling that she had been crying. Her usual short, neat,  black bob was a mess with stray hairs flying everywhere. Her cheeks were tear-stained and her dress was creased. She looked distressed and messy, very different from her usual neat and tidy appearance. Emily looked up to see who had walked into her office and gasped,

"Rosemary? But how?" She gasped, standing up from her desk.

My brows furrowed, "What do you mean Em? Has something happened?" I asked, confused.

She scanned her desk and grabbed this mornings newspaper, she shoved it into my hands, "Read it, God I was so worried,"

I unfolded the crinkled paper. On the cover of the paper was a large black-and-white photo, my blood ran cold.  It was a body, ripped apart. The image of Klaus dead body flashed through my mind. However, this was different. The murderer had left Klaus's body recognisable, but this was not. I could tell it was a girl but that was about it. Her face was slashed apart, and she was covered in bullet wounds, ranging from her chest to her neck and her torso, I felt my stomach churn as I looked over the picture. I pushed the feeling down and moved onto the article that was written in small, articulate print.

As most would remember the Tragic loss of one of our greatest musicians of the age, Klaus Richardson, most would be ready to move on and forget. However, it seems that moving on may be harder than we thought. Only last night was the body of rising singer Rosemary Hughes was found dead and bleeding in an alleyway only two streets away from McPherson Music Studios. It has been confirmed that the route Ms Hughes takes each night passed by the alleyway in question. While her face is unrecognisable Ms Hughes red hair laid untouched, confirming scientists and police 's hunch that it was Ms Hughes who has been brutally murdered. In fact, one would say that it's possible that the murderer of Mr Richardson has indeed struck again. We have no word currently from Ms Hughes family, Boss Gilbert McPherson or agent and close friend, recently widowed, Emily Smith. Read more on .....