𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝙰 𝚂𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖, 𝙱𝚊𝚋𝚢

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎

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song of the chapter: hayloft II by mother mother

"one got shot and the other got lost in drugs and punks and blood on the street."

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The pillar on the far left side of the studio was perfect for hiding behind. I had never wanted to hide or blend in before. I used to love being the center of attention. But that all changed.

When I arrived three hours earlier, I began asking around to get as much information as possible. An hour later, I disappeared behind the pillar to write it all down. This way, no one would bother me, and I wouldn't get distracted.

I was still trying to tie the director in with everything. He had asked Sarah Darling to meet him there last night. At least, according to Sarah's roommate.

No one seemed to like Sarah. She did nothing but complain, and she despised her character. That gave almost everyone here a motive.

      I was so busy thinking it through that I almost didn't notice someone sit down next to me.

"What are you writing?" The person asked. I looked up to see Detective Kincaid.

"Just some stuff I found out from asking around," I shrugged.

He perked up a little at my response. He seemed to need all the help he could get. They were really struggling with this case.

"Anything that might help?" he wondered with a twinge of hope in his voice.

"Uh, maybe," I furrowed my eyebrows as I flipped through my notebook. "Oh. Um, do you know why Sarah was there last night?" He shook his head with an increasingly interested look on his face. "Well, I was told she was meeting the director Roman for a meeting." His eyes grew with interest.

"Are you sure?" he clarified.

"I talked to her roommate. That's what she told me," I summarized.

"Wait. How'd you find her roommate?" he questioned, with his hand up.

"Like I said. I asked around. You don't have to take my word for it. I can give you her number, Detective," I offered.

"That'd be great," he smiled. "And please, call me Mark." He had a nice smile. "Here." He handed me his cell phone.

I flipped to the page in my notebook where I had the number written down. I used that as a reference while I typed it into his phone.

"Hey, while you're at it, why don't you put your number in, too," he offered. I raised my eyebrows at his. "You know, in case we get new information."

"Okay," I decided. I typed my number into his phone, and gave it back to him.

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Dewey and I were sitting at the kitchen island, an awkward silence consuming the room. I could tell Dewey was stuck in his head, obviously overwhelmed.

"So, um, did you know Sarah well?" I wondered, trying to pull him from his reverie. He jumped slightly.

"Oh. No, not really. She wasn't very easy to talk to," he admitted.

"Yeah. From what I've heard most people hated her," I recalled as I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter.

"That's wax," Dewey warned me as I was about to take a bite. I quickly put the apple back in the bowl.