❝I hurt people;
especially pretty girls like you ❞
In which an innocent but broken girl foxtrots with insanity.
And the music only stops when a demented man says so.
➳
Criminal psychology student...
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"Daryl Grady's family history, perhaps, is the most noteworthy aspect in the case profile."
Professor Turner's voice was flat yet modulated, as she addressed the hall full of students who had their eyes glued to the bright screen right in front of them.
"His brothers— Arthur and Connor." Turner stated as an achromatic image of two little boys, one perceptibly quite a few years older than the other, appeared on the plain screen.
Tahlia sat there with the little eraser tip of her pencil playing in between her lips, her complete attention channeled towards listening to every word coming out of Turner's mouth.
Driven by the strident realization of the nearing exams, in a matter of a few weeks, Tahlia had every fibre of her body compelling her to put head back into her studies.
Any threats from a certain serial killer would have to wait.
She may have lost her place as the star student in Turner's eyes, but Tahlia refused to let her mental ruin affect her grade. Losing the scholarship would mean foolishly severing everything she'd persevered for half her entire life.
With that thought reinforced in her brain, she began making notes about the life of Daryl Grady, a 47 year old man serving life sentence at the California State Prison for first degree murder.
"Next, we'll take a look at Bonnie Grady, Daryl's mother.
It was then that one black and white photo of an elderly woman was projected onto the screen. Her dark hair was styled into an outgrown pixie cut, while her aging face held a generic photography-studio directed expression.
"Bonnie Grady's relationship with Daryl was dicey from the very beginning. She was known to be very emotionally abusive, even having humiliated him in front of his neighbors, teachers in public. Not quite mother-of-the-year material, one may say."
With her head down to her notebook, Tahlia had merely just begun to write when an odd, atypical hushed sound came from beside her.
First, her brows furrowed; second, she turned her head towards the noise, her confusion only deepening. The lights were turned off for the presentation, but it was just luminous enough for Tahlia to be able to make out the other students busy writing or typing down Turner's key points.
Dismissing it, she picked up where she had left off writing about Bonnie Grady.
"Natalia"
This time she froze.
It was no longer just an ominous noise, but her name positively whispered in an unearthly manner.
Her head shot to her sides, her system starting to grow all jittery. Not one person seemed to be looking her way, let alone calling for her.
