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Blood and Ink

    You bolted upright in your bed and groaned as you pressed the power button on your phone, being blinded by the intensity of the screen's brightness. The time displayed on your phone was 3:14 a.m., causing you to flop back down onto the pillow in frustration. You threw your phone towards the edge of your bed and flipped over on your side, making another futile attempt to sleep. You couldn't get your mind off of what nearly happened earlier, because you just froze. You never just freeze, and you were irrationally angry that you had allowed it to get that bad.

  You scrunch your face up in dissatisfaction when you realize that tonight, just like yesterday, was going to be restless and uncomfortable. Should you just give up? Watch a movie with a piece of Nutella toast? That sounded pretty good.

  You tossed the covers off of you, stepping onto the hardwood flooring of your house. You sigh and tie your hair back into a ponytail, swiftly pushing any stray pieces behind your ear. Opening the cabinet to pull out the toaster, you swear you hear a camera flash behind you. Toaster still in hand, you turn towards the direction you think it came from, but you see nothing to prove your hunch.

  You walk back towards the kitchen island and place the toaster on top to grab the sliced bread next to it. You open the drawer beneath the countertop to grab a butter knife and place it neatly on the counter. You turn and walk towards the pantry and flip the switch on, instantly finding the Nutella and pulling it out as you close the door behind you. You flick off the light switch and smile twisting open the jar. 

  Midnight snacks are always the best, but you typically prefer them when you're choosing to be awake. You untwist the tie on the bread, moving the heel of the loaf out of the way to grab two slices of bread. You slide them into the slots of the toaster, pressing the button down and starting the timer. You hear another camera shutter, but this time you brush it off to the inner mechanism of the toaster. Grabbing a paper plate from the stack on your counter, you curse yourself for jumping as the toaster ejected the freshly toasted bread. 

  You shift back to the toaster, popping the hot bread onto your plate and grabbing your butterknife. You dip it into the Nutella, generously spreading it into the toast until you're satisfied with the amount. You grab your plate and walk over to the sofa, plopping yourself down. Grabbing the tv remote, you press the power button and regret it when you're nearly blasted out of the room by the volume. You quickly mash the volume button until the sound is at a comfortable hum, and you flick your gaze towards your movie collection on the shelves behind the tv. You immediately land on the horror section, but you shake your head and laugh. It's four in the morning, and that would most definitely not go well for your already shattered nerves.

  You land on The Goonies. A true classic in all its glory, you slip it off your shelf opening the cd case, popping the disk out of its plastic enclosure. Slipping the DVD into the player, you settle back into the couch with your toast and bite into one of the delicious slices. You curl up, leaning on the arm of the sofa in the most comfortable sitting position you can manage. You're smiling as you watch the movie when you hear your phone ping from your bedroom. You sigh, debating just leaving whoever texted you right now on read when it pings again. 

   You slide off the couch with a groan, just wanting to relax with your comfort movie. You turn on your phone and read the screen, seeing a text from Derreck and one from an unknown number. Reading Derreck's first, you fight the urge to scream when you see his message.

 'Mind writing an article about the Ghostface murders? I'm kinda drunk off my ass right now. Thanks, lots, sugar. Here's the info.' 

  Your good mood is instantly gone, but you realize what article he just asked you to write. Murder! Thank God, something interesting. You open the link he sent you, instantly being greeted with photos of a gruesome crime scene.

  A smile stretched across your face as you realize what opportunity has been given to you when your phone pings again. The same unknown number from earlier. You click on the message, gaining an instant sense of confusion and fear.

 'You got a problem with your boss? I could help with that if you'd like.'

  With your eyebrows scrunched, you read the next message.

  'You just gotta answer one question for me.'

  You stare at the text for a minute, unable to register what to say, but your fingers land on your keyboard with a quick reply.

  'My boss is an ass, but I can handle him, thanks.'

  You open your laptop sitting on your desk, pulling up Google Docs with a simple click of your mouse. Your phone pings a couple of times, making you flick your attention back to the phone screen. Two more messages from the unknown number, and you're starting to debate blocking it.

  'Now why don't I believe that?'

  'And you're not even going to ask what my question is? I thought all journalists are curious.'

  Now you're starting to get annoyed. Slightly scared, but it's mostly an annoyance. How did they know Derreck? How did they know you? Huffing out a sharp breath, you reply.

  'No, I'm not going to ask what your question is because I have no interest in it. I do however have an interest in who you are? How do you know who I am?'

 You put your phone back down, setting it on vibrate. You scan the news article about Ghostface and much to your disappointment, it's not a new article on murder. It's a report on the sudden stop of murders in the area. No new bodies had been found for two weeks, and people were starting to wonder if it was done and over with. You knew enough about the killer to know it wasn't; when he got bored with a town, he'd move to the next. You guess that he got bored, and that's what you started your article on. 

  You lost yourself in the research, and before you knew it, you had a completed article of nearly a thousand words. You give a small smile due to the pride you had in the paper, pressing save you close the document than your laptop. You open your phone to check the time and see five new messages from your favorite unknown number.

  'You're quite rude you know that?'

  'Maybe my question is the best question ever. You may be missing out on the best conversation starter ever.'

  'We don't know each other, but I have a lot of knowledge of your life, including how Derreck is a piece of disrespectful scum. I'll fix up his behavior, don't worry.'

  'All I'm asking is one thing; answer my question.'

  'That's it.'

  Scrolling through the messages, you can't help but laugh. Whoever was on the other side of the phone was genuinely hurt by your disinterest. Feeling slightly bad and pressured into finding out what their question is, you text back.

  'Fine, I'll bite. What question is so important that you'll set straight a condescending man like Derreck?'  

  You go to put your phone down but it immediately buzzes in your hand, displaying the question of a lifetime.

  'What's your favorite scary movie?'