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𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨

𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✪ ｡ﾟ･ ───

          𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐖𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃. Being scared of the dark is not unusual for young children, as it holds many things our undeveloped brains cannot yet comprehend. And so, we fear it, and to us, this fear takes over our minds, as whenever we come in contact with this fear, our amygdala's reaction is one of the three, fight, flight, or freeze. And each one has its own consequences, and as we choose one, we will never know what would've happened if he chose the other.

        Why do people kill? It's a question that runs through his mind everyday, even though he knows the answer to his own question. But staring at the photos in front of him, at the dead children and parents in front of him, he questions his answer. Is it so these killers feel something? If so, what are they trying to feel? He knows the answers, yet he can't find them on this case. Perhaps childhood trauma, he's not quite sure.

          Meanwhile, the things that go bump in the night become very real, as she awakens, a small cry escaping her lips as she does so. She knew she should've asked for another bedtime story, and right now, she could really use one. Little does she know, she'll never get one. Ever again. 

          She quickly grabs the closest thing to her, in her case, a small, stuffed, pink elephant. It's extremely comforting to her, especially as the darkness surrounds her, even though she knows she isn't alone. A snore in the corner of her room comforts her slightly, as a middle aged woman sits in a rocking chair in the corner of her room. 

          A sudden shriek in the dead of the night makes her jump, as she cries out, tears running down her fat cheeks, as she clutches the elephant to her chest, shutting her eyes shut. The woman in the corner of the room awakens, groggily looking around, squinting her eyes in annoyance. 

          "Victoria?  What's happening?" she asks, but she soon sighs, realizing she's talking to a four-year-old little girl, who won't be giving her the answers she needs. She rolls her eyes, huffing out a breath of annoyance, before getting up from the rocking chair, and stretching. Her almost black hair falls out from behind her, and she soon walks over to the little girl's bed, as she sits down on the edge.

          "C'mon now, Vickie, it's okay, it's okay," she says, trying to comfort the little girl. She slowly removes her hands from her eyes, as she looks at the woman with fearful eyes. Another scream shakes the house, and the woman scrunches her face up. 

          "Come here, Victoria," the woman urges, as she quickly motions for Victoria to follow her. The young girl scrambles out of her bed, fear evident in her tears, which shimmer with tears. She leads her to the corner of the room, as she has her bend down near the rocking chair. 

          "Just stay here, okay?" she asks, and the young girl nods. The woman sighs, running her hands over her face as she stands back up, turning to look at the door. She balled her hands into fists, as she hears footsteps slowly making their way towards the door. She knows she won't be able to do something, hell, she's not even real.

          The door slowly creaks open, as a shadow is born onto the floor. The person is front of the woman looks crazed, a blood-thirsty look in her eyes, that the woman has never seen before. Her breathing is rapid, and audible. The woman looks back to Victoria, who stares at her, eyes wide. The person takes a step forward into the room, and the woman's eyes dart to the knife in her hand, doused in the blood of the Evans family. Fear, for the first time in her short-lived life, overwhelms her, as the crazed person continues to slowly walk forward, walking right through the woman, as she makes her way to Victoria. 

          The woman turns around, as she watched the killer approach four-year-old Victoria. "Hey Vickie, just look at me, just look at me," the woman motions, as young Victoria's eyes switch to the woman, more tears streaming down her eyes. "Yeah, that's write, just keep your eyes on me," she encourages, and the killer stops in their tracks, and confusion floods over the woman. The person tilts their head as they stare at Victoria, before following her eyes back to the woman, and their face dawns in realization. 

          "You're right, you're right," they speak, to no one in particular, and the woman narrows her eyes at them. "Shut up! I would've thought of it sooner or later, it's not like I have all night!" the person shouts crazily, before crossing their arms childishly, as they storm out of the room. The woman turns, as she watches them exit, before turning back to Victoria, whose eyes are still wide with fear. The woman bends down, as she paints a smile onto her face.

          "It's okay, Vickie. It's okay," the woman soothed the young girl, who still clutched on to that small, pink, stuffed elephant. "It's okay, now, it's okay," the woman repeated, and she did so for the next six hours of the night, staying with the little girl. Hours later, people in uniform finally showed up rushing through the house, invading it. They searched every crack every crevice, and the woman wasn't sure if she could trust them or not. 

          They say we fear what we do not yet understand, and that's exactly what was happening with Victoria, as a man walked in through her bedroom door, the second person who had done so in the past eight hours or so. The woman turned to face him, as he called out to his colleagues, before approaching Victoria, who looked at him, terror still evident on her face. "Hello, my name is-," the man began, but Victoria was quick to cut him off.

          "Bianca tells me not to talk to strangers," she blurted out, as her eyes darted back to Bianca, as sobs racked through her small body. 

┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ✪ ｡ﾟ･ ───┐

𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒:

└─── ･ ｡ﾟ✪ ｡ﾟ･───┘

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