Beyond the Screams ✔

Chapter Nineteen

I almost felt useless. The headphones over my ears, my fingers running over the buttons on the desk. I was in the recording room alone. Emily had other commitments today, so she couldn't come in and help me record. Bryce was upstairs, currently coaxing information out of Ms Edith Jones. But even as the music flared in my ears and my hand was beginning to cramp from all the work, I felt good.

I felt confident.

Out of all of our suspects, the agents were the most suspicious, and then when it came to the agents themselves, Edith seemed to be the one in the spotlight. Everything seemed to be adding up, she was leaving the country, she was in the room at the time, she refused to be speaking to me -  possibly from guilt - it just seemed to be perfect.

Almost too perfect.

But I ignored the feeling. Instead, sighing, and leaving the room. I could hear the faint voices and crashes of the cymbals in the other rooms, but other than that, it was silent. Which was strange. There would always be noise, noise on top of noise on top of screaming on top of this that and something else. It was never silent, well, it was rarely silent.

But I ignored it.

I walked out of the corridor, right into the centre area, expecting the familiar noise, the sounds that I was beginning to become desperate to hear again and I didn't even know why. I walked into the main area and I didn't see Bryce at my cubicle. Fine then, he should still be up with Edith and if he isn't, then he'll be back in a second. Then I took the time to look around the room, something was off, I tried to pinpoint what it was. It didn't take very long. It seemed that the bad mood that I had been shoving so deep inside that I didn't even realise was showing, had leaked out. Almost everyone looked depressed. A feeling that I could seem to recognise by the back of my hand by now. It felt like someone had pinched my heart, hard.

Something had happened.

And if I was correct, Someone had died.

I scanned each desk, finally locating one with a paper print newspaper sitting unused on top of it. I took the few steps that I needed to get there before placing my hand on the first page,

"Do you mind if I read this?" I asked, but not asking. The musician that I didn't recognise offered me a sad nod. I didn't even utter a thank you before snatching away the thick paper and rushing back over to my desk so I could read it properly.

LONDON'S KILLER HAS STRIKED AGAIN!

The title sent a shiver down my spine. Of course, of course, of course. The moment I feel as if things may be returning to normal, another is killed. I forced myself to read the article, at least in respect of the person who had been killed.

Most would now be used to the headlines and news announcements of deaths, however, it seems that our elusive killer has no intention of stopping. While the body was found early this morning, it seems that the young girl had been killed late last night. Mary-Anne James, a sixteen-year-old, devoted fan of musician and singer Rosemary Hughes, was found dead this morning a mere street away from the mentioned singer Ms Hughes is currently in employment. She was walking home with a close friend, Katie Young when they were separated and Ms James was killed. According to reports, Ms Young walked in on the murderer in the act. She was able to confirm that our killer in question has black hair,  but was unable to recognise the face or give any more details, and is now in question with the police and Sargent Kensington, who is currently the officer assigned to this case.

Mary-Anne. I knew Mary-Anne, one of the sweetest girls and possibly politest fans I had ever had the fortune of meeting. And now she was dead. Gone like every single other person that had been killed.