George

*April 13

5:41 pm

It’s been 15 minutes and I’m still waiting for my soup. Usually Gilligan’s isn’t this packed, but being my luck I stop in on the one day it is. Gilligan's is the local cafe that my wife and I loved. The food is good, and it’s not very crowded most of the time so on a rainy day we liked stopping by. It has a cozy coffee bar kinda vibe, with wooden accents and dimly lit lights. My wife Amelia hadn’t been feeling well the past few days. Something about her head she’s been said. So, today after work I decided to treat her to her favorite soup. Maybe the soup help her feel better. She hates missing work, said it gave her anxiety. Though I feel awful keeping her home, I need her to feel better.

“Order up !!” Lost in my thoughts, I look up to see a wide stretched hand with a small cup of steaming soup in it.

“Thank you.” I take the soup from the man’s hand, and make my way through the shoulders and briefcases to the door. Taking my keys out I unlock my car and see the back lights flash a few feet away through the thick fog. Climbing into the driver’s seat I secure the soup in the cupholder next to me.

*April 13

6:24 pm

Making my way up the steps to the front door I fumble through my pocket looking for my keys. The soup and my briefcase in the other hand as I unlock the door. It feels nice to be out of the thick damp air. Making sure to shut the door softly behind me, I make my way towards the kitchen. Automatically I assume Amelia is in the living room or the bedroom. ‘I wonder how she felt today?’, I wonder. Placing the soup carefully on the kitchen island, I set my briefcase down and drop keys next to it. Feeling exhausted I go to make myself a cup of coffee. Reaching to the cupboard I grab a mug when I hear my shoe squeak. Looking down, my brown leather shoe had been tinted crimson to the side. Looking around I notice that behind me my footprints had been stained red. My eyes start to follow the red printed floor, bringing me to the source. My stomach feels sick, I can’t move, the coffee mug shatters on the floor.

Scott

*April 13

12:38 pm

Lifting furniture all day can do some harm to a man's back. I feel like mine’s gonna pop outta wack like my pa’s sometime soon. But I’ve been doing this for years, so far, no issues. I go in the client’s house, move their furniture, get paid, get out. That’s the way it’s always run and I have no problem with that. Although, being on the rather short side makes it a little harder to lift some stuff. I’m also a handyman. Just a lil somethin I do on the side. To help out with bills and all. It’s also been a passion of mine since I was young. But taking over my pa’s business was first priority. So I do some stuff for local families, but nothin’ beyond that. Don’t want it distractin’ me from what I really gotta do.

Today though I’m helpin’ Mrs. Amelia. Real nice lady. Called me a bit ago saying something about a sink leaking. I’ve worked with her and her husband George for a couple years. Real nice people, I’m happy to help ‘em out.

I’m pulling up the drive when I see George walkin’ out to his car. He looks up from his phone, “Hey, Scott! Here for the sink?”

“Yea you bet,” my feet touch the pavement and I slam my car door shut. Judging by the briefcase and crisp looking suit, I’d guess he was heading to work. George is some lawyer I’m pretty sure, word has it he’s pretty good at what he does. Explains how they have such a nice house. It’s small enough for the two of them, but well furnished and kept.

I’m making my way to the door when I remember something I forgot to ask George, I see him putting his things in his car.

“Aye George !” He turns to look at me, “Is Amelia at home? Or is she at work too?”

“Yea, she’s not feeling well so she’ll probably be in her room, but she’s home.”

Making my way back to the door I turn and smile back, “Okay George, have a good one!”

Daryl

*April 9

10:15 am

This morning I’ve been given another job assignment. Somewhere in Maryland. So, this morning I took a flight from Chicago into Baltimore. Trips like these are easy, three days tops and I’ll be out of there. It’s a no stress job really, once you get the hang of the schedule. After getting off my flight and grabbing my bags, I head down to the lot to look for my driver. The driver is the one bringing me to my hotel and destination for my appointment.

“Morning Sir, Daryl I presume?”

Looking over I see a boy, probably 17 or 18 years old, a fraction of my height.

“Yes, that’s me.” I climb into the limo and review my itinerary for the next few days. Looking over the clients description, I see that they’ve left an address as well. Nothing unusual, just business. It’s rather warm in Maryland, which defeats the purpose of my trench coat, but it’s tolerable for now. Would’ve been nice to have checked the weather when packing. Looking down at my Rolex I see that I’m right on time. Everything’s going well so far.

‘Easy’, I wonder, as I look out at the beautiful scenery outside my window.

‘Just business.’

Third Person

*April 13

12:15 am

Amelia woke up, feeling a kiss on her forehead.

“Good morning love, I’m headed off to work, Scott’s coming around 1 to fix the sink.” George smiles at her warmly, and grabs his keys and briefcase. As he’s walking down the stairs he shouts back up, “If you need anything I’ll have my phone on me!”.

Amelia hears him enter the house, and she hears him working on the pipes under the sink. The sound of his metal tools clinking and clacking. After a few minutes she decides to go down to the kitchen to make a tea, due to her increasing headache.

‘Scott must’ve arrived early’, she thought. It was 12:25, and George said he’d come at 1. Making her way down the stairs, she quietly creeps her way around the kitchen counter and sees a black briefcase. Followed by a black trench coat, that she didn’t remember being George’s.

Daryl waits by the side of the kitchen door, for her to emerge from the doorway. It said to only go after the lawyers wife, no one else. He hears her soft footsteps patter down the stairs. Soon enough he sees her blonde head emerge from the side of the doorway and slowly her body starts to appear as she makes her way into the kitchen. With her back towards him, it’s just the right moment, he takes his aim and suddenly her body moves from his view.

She saw him from the corner of her eye, behind the door. His large body crouched in a corner by the door. Something metallic glistens in his hand. After a few seconds she moves back from the doorway into the kitchen, terrified. Thinking about how to handle him, she devises a plan and starts to put it into action. Though it’s hard to think clearly with her heart pounding against the walls of her chest. Her breath quick and short, and the dew of a cold sweat coating her face. ‘Who is he? What does he want? What will I do with him?” She tries her best to quietly round the back of the hallway and into the other end of the kitchen.

‘There’s only one thing to do.’

Daryl moves quietly towards the doorway, trying to find where she went without being seen. This is supposed to be an easy, quiet procedure. Slowly Daryl pokes his head out the doorway and sees she’s not around the doorway or at the end of the stairs.

Amelia quietly made her way around the hall and into the kitchen, she sees his back is to her. This man seems to be looking around the corner for her. He’s dressed in all black with a messy head of auburn hair. Standing at maybe 6 foot, Amelia knows she can’t take him on her own. She’ll have to get him by surprise. Looking around she see the pans hanging from the rack above the counter. Carefully and cautiously she grabs the largest pan above the counter as she creeps up behind him, and with all the strength she can muster she hits him in the head with the pan. He crumples to the ground groaning in pain. Out of sheer terror, she continues to strike him with the metal pan. Sickening cracking sounds make her feel sick to her stomach. After a couple dozen strikes, she stops and looks down. Blood is splattered against the side of the counter, and a pool of blood emerges. Panting, Amelia rests the pan by her side, and stares with wide eyes at the man laying motionless beneath her.

Scott walks up the porch towards the front door. He quietly creaks the door open, trying not to wake Amelia, knowing she’ll be resting. He walks through the doorway and turns to go towards the kitchen. That’s when he sees her messy hair, she’s panting with a frying pan on the counter right next to her. And below her, a man, his face a mess of blood and mangled flesh. He slowly looks up at her with wide eyes, to see her staring right at him.

“H-h-h-honest Sc-cott, he tried-d attacking me. I-I didn’t know what to do, and then-en I just grabbed the pan, it was the only-y way Scot-t-t-t…”, tears started pouring down her face. Her body started trembling.

“Scott don’t t-t-tell anyone. P-p-please.” She started moving towards him, and he immediately runs for his car.

“Scott stop it!!” She yells after him. As Scott was about to reach the bottom step of the porch he feels a powerful blow to the back of his head.

Amelia was sobbing as she was dragging Scott up the steps. The humid muggy air, slicking her messy hair to her neck and causing her hands to sweat and slip. He had been somewhat of a friend to her and George. But if she let him go he could tell someone, that would ruin both her and George’s careers. He’d never get a job at another firm again. Thinking about the last 20 minutes made her stomach sick, she felt even more lightheaded, and she felt an anxiety build up in the pit of her stomach. After a strenuous effort she managed to haul both the bodies into the back corner of the kitchen. Blood still staining the floor. Amelia took Daryl’s gun from the floor and pulled the car keys from Scott’s pocket. She knew she couldn’t be here when George got home. Rushing out of the house she started Scott’s car and stared one last time at the place she once called home.  

George

*April 13

6:25 pm

The coffee mug shatters to the floor.

In the front corner of the kitchen there is a pile of bloody bodies. A pool of crimson surrounds them. I rush over, and take a closer look. What I see surprises me. I see scott, a large gash on his forehead. I look to the second body, the face too beaten to be recognizable. But I know it’s him. His signature black getup, a gold rolex watch on his left wrist, and his auburn hair matted by sweat and blood to his neck and forehead. This was Daryl.

I feel my blood boil. The sight of his dead body laying before me told me he failed. My mind still hasn’t wrapped around the fact that she’s still alive. I thought I had hired the best man possible to do the job quietly, I now know I was wrong. How could she have taken him. I look back over on the counter and see most of Daryl’s things, but one thing is missing. His gun. Judging by Daryl’s state, I know she didn’t shoot him. Looking back over at Scott I get even angrier.

I’m absolutely livid. Gathering my things I storm out of the kitchen, whip the door open, and slam the door shut behind me. Throwing my things in the car I start the engine. Glancing into the car mirror I see my hair messy and out of place, my eyes alive with rage. In the backseat I look to see my gun laying on the seat. She won’t get away again.

‘She’s going to pay’.